By: Squealexander Hamilton, Travel Correspondent & Uninvited Road-Trip Guest
Let me paint the emotional landscape for you:
Sunday, 4 p.m. The humans pack the car with snacks, luggage, road-trip dreams, and shockingly, zero pigs.
Already, the trip is a failure.
Atlas, my floppy, golden-hearted nephew, was chosen as the VIP passenger. Meanwhile, I, the farm’s most gifted traveler and bed-connoisseur, was left behind with pigs who snore like a thunderstorm fighting a lawnmower.
But fine. Whatever. I’m not offended.
(I am deeply offended.)
The Epic Journey… That I Should’ve Been On
They left on Sunday and arrived on Wednesday.
That’s three days of “Atlas gets pampered across America.”
This time, Krystin decided to break the trip up and splurge on hotels instead of driving straight through like a caffeinated cowboy.
I once told her that driving straight through was easier.
But apparently, things have changed now that Atlas bats his eyelashes and takes up an entire back seat.
He got two hotel stays, slept in human beds, rode an elevator, and stopped at dog parks.
One Tennessee rest stop even had:
- an agility course
- a riverside walking trail
- and absolutely zero pigs, I might add
While Atlas was out there vacationing, I was at home trying to un-stick a piece of straw from my butt crack. Life is cruel.
Oh, and Police Encounters?
Atlas also met three police officers.
Two were innocent bystanders at a fast-food joint, probably just trying to enjoy their fries without being inspected by a 100-pound baby horse.
But the third officer?
Ah. The moment of destiny.
By then, the humans were one hour away from Atlas’s new home.
The finish line was in sight.
Victory was near.
Krystin’s bladder was attempting to file for emergency medical leave.
She was using the sort of controlled breathing you only see in childbirth classes when suddenly:
Blue lights.
Pulled over for going four miles over the speed limit.
Four.
Do you understand the extraordinary level of restraint it was taking Krystin to be driving that carefully when she was both:
- painfully close to her destination, and
- approximately 93 seconds away from disaster?
Frankly, Atlas thinks they should give out medals for moments like this.
I agree.
Thankfully, she was let go with just a warning, and the race toward both destiny and the nearest bathroom continued.
Arrival: Atlas Meets His New Mom
Once they reached Atlas’s new home, he met his mom, Liz, and sister dog Charlie. He pretended to be shy for one flicker of a moment… and then discovered he was allowed to sleep on Liz’s bed.
With pillows.
Soft ones.
He face-dived into them like a pig into a watermelon.
I am fine.
Everything is fine.
The Barn Plot Twist
The next day, he got loaded into the truck (tragically, he said) and was taken to a barn.
But THEN…
like a dramatic season finale reveal…
Krystin and Chris walked in.
Atlas lit up like someone had plugged him into a generator.
He watched horse dentistry, got extra pets, and followed Charlie around while she taught him all the important “this is where the good smells live” spots.
But nothing… NOTHING… prepared him for Cousin Andel.
Andel: The Self-Employed Olympian
Andel plays a game no one understands.
He sprints down the barn aisle at full speed…
barking the entire way like he’s calling play-by-play commentary for his own race…
Then he turns around…
and sprints back.
Then he does it again.
And again.
And again.
No face tag.
No tug-of-war.
No chasing buddies.
Just a one-dog speed trial championship where he is the athlete, the referee, and the cheering crowd.
Atlas was bewildered.
I am bewildered.
Scientists would be bewildered.
But Andel?
He is thriving.
My Final Thoughts, Because I Know You Want Them
Atlas survived the road trip.
The humans survived the road trip.
The pillows miraculously survived the road trip.
And I, abandoned again, survived the emotional trauma of not being invited.
Would the entire journey have been elevated by the presence of one very handsome pig narrator?
Yes.
Obviously.
Indisputably.
But I’m proud of the big guy.
He handled elevators, police encounters, new siblings, crazy barn dogs, and the grief of leaving his foster humans behind.
And now he’s living his best life, sleeping on a bed like royalty.
I’ll allow it.
For now.
Snoutfully yours,
🐽 Squealexander Hamilton
Travel Critic • Pillow Rights Activist • Overlooked Road-Trip Candidate