Road trips are one of my favorite ways to travel. There’s something freeing about rolling the windows down, blasting a playlist that swings from Noah Kahan, to some country, and hitting the open road. Plus, when I bring my Golden Retriever, Whiskey, along for the ride, it turns into a whole different kind of adventure. He's only 11 Months old but Whiskey is basically a professional road tripper at this point—This guy has literally been to 4 states in his 11 months of life. He’s definitely mastered hotel stays, long car rides, and even how to charm the front desk staff into giving him some extra treats.

Traveling solo with your dog is rewarding, but it also comes with its own set of challenges. Over a few trips, I’ve picked up some tips and tricks to make these trips smoother—for both of us. Whether you’ve got a high-energy pup or a snoozing sidekick, here are my go-to pieces of advice for making solo road trips with your dog less stressful and way more fun.

Here’s the thing about owning a horse—it’s not just owning a horse. It’s a relationship, a partnership, and a commitment to dirt-covered jeans and perpetually hay-filled pockets. Horses aren’t just part of your life; they’re part of you. And I bet you’ve got a hundred iPhone photos of your horse—blurry, backlit, or featuring that one weird ear flop they do when they’re kinda over your nonsense. And listen, those photos are great—but they don’t exactly do justice to the bond you share.

That’s why I’m here to tell you why you need to book a professional pet photography session for your horse. Trust me. It’s worth it.

Here’s the weird thing about dogs—they are so much themselves that when they leave us, they take a part of us with them. If you’ve lost a dog before, then you probably get it. Losing one feels like losing oxygen for a moment.

A loss that hit me hard was my dog Daisy, my yellow lab. She was 12, with a love for table scraps, and a personal vendetta against squirrels, when I lost her suddenly. One day -just like that—she got sick out of nowhere and then she was gone. No fanfare. Just this big, gaping hole in a house suddenly too quiet.

And just when I thought my heart couldn’t take another crack, it did. Shadow, my black lab and my very first dog, passed a few years later at age 16. Shadow wasn’t just a dog; she was the foundation of my childhood. Saying goodbye to her was like closing the last page of a book I didn’t want to end.