Dog’s Rule! is a (p)awesome bus service based in Sullivan’s Gulch, Portland, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

Creative Thinking for Canines
in Portland, Oregon

Driving with a 12-pack isn’t usually the smartest idea. But when the “12-pack” is a dozen adorable dogs, it’s genius.

Meet creative thinker Meg Vogt, affectionately known as the Dog Bus Lady of Sullivan’s Gulch. When Meg launched Dogs Rule, a bus service for dogs in Portland, Oregon, the locals really got on board.

The dogs on the bus go woof-woof-woof all around the town—en route to leash-free parks.
© Ryan LaBriere @LabrierePhoto

Dogged Devotion

Throughout her life, Meg has solved canine challenges that would overwhelm most people.

Consider Mr. Diego.

Viciously attacked as a puppy, Mr. Diego was soon making his mark on the world—specifically on its inhabitants. But Meg, who was then a dog walker, spent years working through his issues, gradually enabling him to socialize peaceably.

By 2015, Mr. Diego had become the poster pooch for the local humane society. 
© Meg Vogt

Chelsea, a retired police dog, had degenerative myelopathy. Every morning, said Meg, she’d “ease the dog’s rear end into a special wheelchair and drive to a park where Chelsea could chase after squirrels.”

“We totally bonded. Still, I told myself that when Mr. Diego and Chelsea passed, I would move on to a real job. But there was no way. I had all these soul connections with dogs.”

After a series of remarkable careers—paginator at USA Today, audio engineer, video producer, camp counselor, radio show host, and concierge, Meg had found her real job.

Meg, Max, and Grendel practice howlistic therapy.
© Joyce McGreevy

How Much Is That School Bus in the Window?

In 2008, Meg bought an old school bus and figured out how to operate it on the drive home. She parked it beside the house that she shares with her very supportive wife, Deb (“Not a Dog Person”) Bridges. Then she invited the neighborhood over.

Sullivan’s Gulch neighbors gather for a paint-and-pizza party.
© Meg Vogt

The dog bus was born. And wow, did it ever bus a move. Who let the dogs out? Oh, I see: In Portland, Oregon this is not a rhetorical question.

Blue Rover, Blue Rover

Recently, I joined Meg on her rounds. Our destination?  Thousand Acres—open land, berry bushes, and a delta. It’s off-leash paradise.

Because her passengers lack opposable thumbs, Meg uses house keys that clients entrust to her. Eagerly anticipating their day out, the dogs trot to the bus door, race up the steps, and take their usual seats.

Why chase your tail when you can catch a bus?
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s Spring Break. Several dogs are on vacation, taking their humans with them, so we’re down to a six-pack and a bonus pup.  Our seven riders range from petite Moe to a pony-sized Irish wolfhound named Grendel. (Which technically makes Grendel a Beowulf-hound.)

Now add Meg’s “god dog” Piper the Scottie, Ida the yellow Lab, Max the French poodle, Porter the black Lab, and Finn the fantastic medley. It could be a recipe for chaos. Instead, it’s like the best buddy movie ever.

Grendel leans his massive head out the window, breezing. Moe snuggles. Porter seems pensive, as if composing a bestselling bark-all. Max, Ida, and Piper look out the windows. Finn reclines but casts a supervisory look over the pack.

The dogs are poised for that first sight of green fields.
© Joyce McGreevy

Go, Dog, Go!

The dogs somehow contain themselves as Meg parks. Once out the door, they run merrily down the path, splitting off occasionally to run in broad, looping arcs.

Best dog run ever!
© Joyce McGreevy

There is no happiness like that of dogs roaming free.

“Ida Idaho” spots a puddle and knows just what to do.

Dive in!
© Joyce McGreevy

Max and Grendel show off for the pup-arazzi.
© Joyce McGreevy

Porter, the quiet one, turns daring explorer, scouting the perimeter.  Piper and Moe hold court with adoring fans.

Finn wades into the water. There is no branch so big, no stick tossed so far, that he cannot retrieve it.

Finn branches out.
© Joyce McGreevy

The Leader of the Pack

When it’s time to go, how do you gather a pack of dogs from 1400 acres? The secret is to be Meg Vogt. At her call, all seven come running. Together, they lope along as one big family and board the bus.

Anyone who thinks the dog bus is a trendy business is barking up the wrong tree.
The only high end in this labor of love is Grendel’s.
© Joyce McGreevy

To be tuckered out after a day of fun is the best kind of tired in the world. While the dogs rest, Meg shares her story.

Incredible Journey

“I was that white kid on the Rez,” she says.  “It was a beautiful experience, growing up in Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin.”

Most nights, Meg would take her bedding out to the screened-in porch. There she’d sleep with her dog Carly, whom her mom had rescued as a puppy.

“It was sweet waking up to the sound of an Evinrude motor on the lake. I’d get in the canoe with Carly in front. Then I’d take off across the lake, go hiking in the National Forest. That was my childhood.”

Lassie (and Buddies), Come Home

One by one, the dogs are returned home. I feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, sad to bid farewell to my new friends.

Max loves Meg’s dog bus so much, he watches from a balcony for its arrival.
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s the community, says Meg, who helps keep her bus running. When the dog bus needed a new transmission, folks pitched in. “Sullivan’s Gulch is a good community that way. We all take care of each other.”

Meg chats with Sullivan’s Gulch neighbor Štĕpán Šimek . . .  
© Joyce McGreevy

. . . and a delighted passerby named Monique. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Dog Tales and Winding Trails

Now Meg hopes to fund a multi-purpose space for dogs and humans called Rawhide Ranch. So she’s writing books. There’s no shortage of material:

Her richly lived life has doglegged around the world. (Although we’ve only just met, Meg and I discover that our paths had crossed years earlier. We’d both been volunteer radio hosts at KAZU in Pacific Grove, California.)

There’s true love conquering all as Meg’s wife faced down metastatic colon cancer. Deb played soccer between rounds of chemo and went from having a 6% chance of survival to becoming a world-class race walker.

When Moe lost a twin, the pack cheered him up.
© Joyce McGreevy

Then there are Meg’s “myku,” her version of haiku. Doggerel? Hardly! But the dogs clearly are muses:

        Shut down your keyboard.

        Come! Take in the morning light.

        Can you smell the rain?

Creative thinking at its off-leash best.

That night, I make a wish on the Dog Star: May Meg’s dog tales and other writing find a loving home. And may the dog bus and the dog pack always roam free.

Long may their tails wag!
© Joyce McGreevy

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