Riding Shotgun: Honey, Chief Morale Officer

Meet Honey

She wasn't planned.

I lost my cat companion the hard way. One night, one moment, one road. The kind of loss that leaves a quiet in the cab you don't know how to fill. You don't realize how much presence a small creature carries until it's gone and the seat is just a seat again.

A friend decided I needed a truck pet. She talked me into a road trip to visit someone. I agreed without asking too many questions. That was my first mistake. Or my best decision. Depends on how you look at it.

I came home with a puppy.

Honey was five weeks old. Mom had stopped feeding the litter. She was tiny and honey colored and apparently already decided she was mine. I didn't have much say in the matter. Red Heelers are like that. They don't ask permission they just move in and start rearranging things.

She figured out the door locks before she figured out how to bark properly. Started rolling down the windows. Adjusted my mirrors. At five weeks old she was already running quality control on the rig and finding it lacking.

Three years later she rides shotgun on every mile. The moment we slow down through a town she's up on the door, window down, watching the world go by like she's personally responsible for it. When I come back from the store she buries her nose in the grocery bags before she acknowledges I exist. Priorities are priorities and I've learned to respect them.

She sleeps through the highway miles. The second I touch the brakes she's vertical and at attention asking if this is the stop she's been waiting for. It doesn't matter if it's a red light or a fuel stop or a rest area. Brakes mean business and Honey is always ready for business.

She's not along for the ride.

She's co-pilot. She's keeper of the door and inspector of groceries and the reason the cab has never felt empty since the day she moved in uninvited and made herself completely at home.

This is Honey. She'll be here every mile.

One Safe Mile | onesafemile.com