Hank's first bark on Sunday evening came out like a rusty gate. He tried again, got a sort of honk-wheeze, looked surprised at himself, then lay down on the kitchen floor, sighed through his nose and slept for eleven hours straight.
That was the aftermath of two nights at a kennel outside town while we went to a wedding in Duluth. Here's how we picked the place, what it cost and what came home.
Why boarding this time
Caleb's cousin Tessa got married in Duluth on Saturday, September 13. The ceremony was at two, the reception ran late, and the plan was to drive up Friday and come home Sunday. Our hotel didn't take dogs, and even if it had, Hank alone in a hotel room for ten hours would have been a disaster for everyone on that floor.
The people we'd usually lean on were out. Caleb's parents were going to the wedding too, and my parents in Mora had plans of their own that weekend. In July, when we went to the lake, Hank came with us. This time, for the first time since we adopted him, he'd need a kennel.
How we picked the kennel
Working at a vet clinic, I hear a lot about boarding places, good and bad. I called two within twenty minutes of home and toured one of them on a Thursday afternoon two weeks ahead. What I paid attention to:
- The smell at the door. A good kennel smells like dog and disinfectant. A bad one smells like urine. You know in about two seconds.
- The runs. Indoor-outdoor runs with solid dividers, so dogs can't nose each other through the walls.
- Group play. Optional, and we opted out. Hank gets overwhelmed in busy groups of dogs, which is also why we skip crowded dog parks.
- Vaccines. They wanted proof of rabies, distemper-parvo and the kennel cough vaccine, given at least a week before the stay. His rabies and distemper were current, but he'd never needed the kennel cough one, so he got it at my clinic two weeks ahead.
- Emergencies. I asked which vet they call if something goes wrong overnight and how they reach owners. They had a clear answer for both, which is less common than you'd hope.
- Food. We could bring his own, so his kibble went in pre-measured bags with his name on each one.
What it cost
- 2 nights at $42 a night: $84.00
- A bath before pickup: $25.00
- Total: $109.00
Mabel stayed home, and Addie, the teenager down the street, did three cat visits at $15 each: Friday evening, Saturday evening and Sunday morning, with a measured bowl of dry food to cover the gaps. That was $45, so the pets' share of the wedding weekend came to $154, which felt very reasonable next to a hotel room in Duluth in September.
Drop-off, pickup and the aftermath
I took Friday off, and we dropped Hank at 8 a.m. He walked in wagging, sniffed the attendant's shoes and followed her through the door without a backward glance. I'd braced myself for a sad scene. I wasn't ready for him not to care at all, and it stung a little.
Sunday pickup was between 4 and 6, which ended up shaping our whole morning. We skipped the post-wedding brunch, left Duluth by 1:30 and walked into the kennel at 4:15. He came out freshly bathed, smelling like coconut shampoo, wagging at full speed and making that rusty sound I'd never heard from him before.
The attendant said he'd been a sweetheart but very "chatty," which explained the voice. Hank talks when he's waiting, and apparently he'd spent two days answering every other dog in the building.
At home he drank a lot of water, ate dinner like he'd been starved (he hadn't), slept eleven hours and spent Monday mostly on the rug. He also rolled in the backyard within an hour of getting home, so the $25 bath lasted about as long as the drive.
I knew from work that a hoarse dog after boarding is usually just a dog who barked all weekend, but I also know what a kennel cough honk sounds like, so I listened all week. Nothing came of it. A cough that's getting worse, or a dog who seems sick rather than tired, is worth a call to your own vet instead of a wait-and-see.
By Tuesday his voice was back. He used it on the mail carrier, so I know.
