For the Love of Chase

How one small dog changed the way we travel—and the way we live.

When we decided to buy a Casita, it wasn’t just for us—it was for Chase.

Chase is our six-year-old Jack Russell terrier mix, full of energy, opinions, and heart. We rescued him when he had just turned a year old, after he'd already been re-homed twice. Because of that, he carries a deep fear of being left behind. Travel, something we’ve always loved, became complicated—flights were out of the question, and even short getaways felt impossible.

When we moved from Florida to Oregon, we drove five days cross-country with him because the cargo hold of a plane would've been too traumatic. So we made a choice: if Chase can’t go with us, we’ll find a way to bring the world to him.

Enter the Casita—a small, lightweight fiberglass travel trailer that we can tow with our recently upgraded Subaru. We chose the turbo model not only because it could handle towing more weight, but also because we love Subaru—and this was our first time ever buying a brand-new car. It felt like a milestone worth celebrating. It’s our leap of faith. We don’t know yet how Chase will feel about it—or how he’ll behave. He’s nosy, reactive to big dogs, and sometimes a bit much. But he’s also sweet, loyal, and at his happiest when we’re all together. We’re hoping that this little home on wheels will give us back some of the freedom we’ve missed—and offer Chase a new way to see the world… from the safety of home.

The truth is, Chase is more than just our dog. He’s like our literal son.

Sitting here in a hotel room in Provo, Utah, on our way to Texas to meet Cade and pick up our Casita, surrounded by five bags—only two of them for me—I can say without hesitation that he’s spoiled, and we’re not even sorry about it. The love I have for him is different than the love I have for my two grown daughters—but it’s just as real, and it runs through every part of our life together. With Cade traveling for work half the time, Chase has been my best friend, the one I see and talk to every single day. Being new to Portland and still finding my footing, he’s kept me from becoming a full-time hermit.

He holds me accountable with his watch-like precision for walks and feeding times, and his boundless energy keeps both of us moving. Over these last five years, it’s become clear: he rescued me, not the other way around.

Of course, being this bonded also comes with its challenges. In the past year, we were lucky enough to find a daycare that he now goes to every Tuesday, which he loves. But our go-to sitter—the one who watched him for longer trips—recently had to step away. Finding someone new hasn’t been easy.

Chase refuses to share his space or toys, and has a bit of a... complicated history with cats. So finding a sitter who adores dogs but doesn’t have one is like finding a unicorn. All of this just reaffirmed our decision: if Chase can’t stay somewhere, we’ll take him with us.

It’s not always easy. There are trade-offs, and moments where we wonder if we’re doing the right thing—navigating travel logistics, calling ahead to check pet policies, tiptoeing around campground etiquette. But we believe it will be worth it. We imagine a life where he’s always with us—on the road, by our side, in a space that feels safe and steady no matter where we park. That hope is what drives this choice. This lifestyle is rooted in love.

Anyway, he’s clearly number one in our household—and he knows it. We plan our days around him, rearrange our travel dreams for him, and carry his favorite blanket from hotel to hotel like it’s the most precious cargo we own. What he doesn’t know—what he probably can’t know—is that he’s not just part of our life. In many ways, he’s shaped it.

This little Casita won’t just be a trailer—it’ll be our way of saying, "Wherever we go, you belong." And in that way, it’s not just Chase who’s along for the ride—we are, too.

-R. Michael

Want more personal stories like this one?

Check out my other series, Not That Anyone Asked — where I share deeper reflections, moments of vulnerability, and a little eye-roll-worthy honesty along the way: https://rmichaeleyeroll.substack.com/