For some reason, a maternal instinct and the need to bear children is not within me, but an animal instinct is. There have been very few moments in my life when I have not had dogs and cats by my side. I find them such amiable, uncomplicated companions whose needs and wants are few, yet their love is unconditional. Best of all, I can be just who I am and there is no judgment (well, I have had a few that have mastered The Look), but for the most part, I am enough for them.

When I left for my journey, I left behind a wonderful, faithful bevy of companions in the expert care of friends. The dog is a Shiba Inu named Mika and would have made an excellent adventure dog, except for the fact that she really can’t tolerate heat with her Husky double coat. The cats, well, they are cats and best left at home. Plus, I figured I could go without either for a few months.

Then I spent one night in that middle-of-nowhere campground and realized the error of my thinking.

Two days after that lonely night, on my way up to Yosemite, I stopped in the town of Oakdale for a bite to eat and, on a whim, I asked Siri to find an animal shelter. I drove over after lunch and found the office locked; I had missed opening hours by 30 minutes. Still, I visited the outdoor kennels and among all of the yappy little dogs and large pit bull mixes, was a small quiet black dog, who stood wagging his tail, begging me to come over. Hesitantly, I left and made the two-hour trek up to Yosemite. A couple of days into my Yosemite stay, and dead tired from a 14-mile hike the day before, I decided to head back into Oakdale to see if that little dog was still there. I had no cell service so I couldn’t call ahead, and instead went on faith. And there he was. The woman brought him out to the play yard for a one-on-one “interview” and he charmed the pants off me. Thirty minutes later, I was headed to Petco with Willy Whatever, Adventure Dog, in the passenger seat.

Willy will limit where I can go to some extent, but we’ve managed a good deal of exploring in the week that I’ve had him (we’ve broken many no-dog trail rules along the way). And he is as good a companion as I could have asked for. Willy is not a runner and prefers to stay by my side. He sleeps in, and for someone who is not a morning person, nothing pleases me more. He mostly listens to me and he loves people. Willy does have one drawback (don’t we all?)—he is not keen on co-piloting. During our first car ride up to Yosemite, I looked over and saw long strings of drool hanging from either side of his mouth. When I stopped at a turnoff to wipe his face clean, I saw vomit down the inside of the passenger door (God, I hope the rental van company isn’t reading this!). I looked at him with dismay, realizing that so much of this adventure will be inside The Shroom making our way through the West.

We are still experimenting with the car rides, putting him in the front or in the back, surrounding him with towels, making irresistible beds and going as slowly as possible on winding roads. While he doesn’t vomit as much, he still produces an amazing amount of drool for such a small dog. We’ll figure it out, me and Willy Whatever, the Drooling, Puking Adventure Dog. I’d rather this than no dog at all, and I wish there were more people in my life who felt the same way about me.