Khao Yai with a Shiba Who Refuses Hot Pavement

Everyone told us that Khao Yai in the cool season is a perfect trip with a dog. Nobody mentioned that you take a Shiba with you, and that a Shiba has opinions about everything: the car, the road, the grass, and especially the pavement. Mantou, our red Shiba with the face of a steamed bun, would not walk in the afternoon sun even for a sausage.

We left Ratchada at six on a Saturday morning, because the road to Pak Chong gets slow after nine. I had read that dogs should not ride loose in the car, so Mantou sat in a crash-tested travel crate with a cooling mat, a familiar blanket and one of my old T-shirts. We stopped every ninety minutes at a petrol station, where he drank, sniffed the world and refused to use the bathroom until I turned my back. A Shiba has dignity.

The accommodation was a small resort outside the national park, with a garden, and we had called ahead to confirm they accept dogs. National parks themselves do not allow pets on most trails, so our plan was walks in the resort gardens and nearby farm roads in the early morning and in the evening. We had a mountain of fresh air and not a single hot afternoon, because Mantou and I spent them in the cabin with the fan on, playing a very slow card game I have invented for one human and one sleeping dog.

The big drama came on the second morning. A wide, shallow stream crossed the farm road, and Mantou stopped in front of it as if he had seen a monster. He looked at me. I looked at him. Then he sat down, deliberately, like a king refusing to cross a river, and no amount of chicken would move him. In the end I carried him across, and he gave me the Shiba stare for the rest of the day.

At night, we sat outside in the cold under an amazing sky, Mantou wrapped in a small fleece, and I saw more stars than in three years of Bangkok. He snored on my lap. Our vet had suggested a tick check and a visit before travelling, so we had our paperwork and flea and tick preventives ready, and we did a full coat check in the evening.

What I would do differently: pack twice as much water, bring more towels, and never forget that Mantou loves the grass at Benjakitti Park far more than any mountain. But he fell asleep in the car on the way home with a face of deep satisfaction, and so did I.