Last April, we happened upon Valentine Lake, one of the best lake camping spots ever. This small lake contains fish & alligators plus campsites along one side of the shore. A man named Greg & his tent occupied 1 of the camp areas. Camping at Valentine Lake awakened Mom’s heart. At the same time, Greg & his hotdogs made my heart sing.
Greg is a journalist & Mom is a wanna-be writer, so when Greg invited Us to his campfire, Mom enthusiastically agreed. Mom brought popcorn, hoping Greg wouldn’t notice she was picking his brain. Greg’s a smart cookie; ya can’t pull anything over on him, popcorn or not.
At that point, neither of us knew Greg had hotdogs & would be sharing them with me. After I was assured I wasn’t eating any deceased cousins, I took to hotdogs like a fish to water. My mouth exploded with pleasure & the memory hasn’t faded one iota.
This year, Old, Man Winter thwarted Mom’s plan to meet up with Greg to camp. My Mama enjoys being warm, so we have spent every night on the road in a state campground where electricity is abundant. When Ivy is connected to shore power, we stay roasty-toasty when the temps dip into the burr-chilly zone.
Valentine Lake camping is boondocking. Boondocking is camping without water/sewer/electricity. Mom & the Louisianians have high hopes that the low nightly temps will rise into 5o’s by March. When My Mama’s comfort no longer requires heat, we will immediately head to the shores of Valentine Lake.
Throughout this season of travels, I’ve asked Moms, “When are we seeing Greg?” “Don’t forget to schedule time with Greg.” And “Mom, I think we are close to Greg’s house; we need to visit him. He misses me.”
Why am I so insistent on seeing Greg? He fed me the most delicious hotdogs I’ve ever eaten (actually the only hotdog I’ve ever eaten) & I want to know what else he might have up his sleeve, or rather in his refrigerator. My Mama’s food choices are boring. Peppers, potatoes, carrots, onions & lettuce. What’s a dog supposed to do with that crap? When Mom’s in the kitchen, my salvia glands are glued shut. The only time I get excited when Mom cooks is when the smoke alarm goes off.
Finally, the day I’ve been yearning for has arrived. Mom tells me we are on our way to Greg’s house. As soon as I hear that, I’m bouncing all over the place & yup, The Ivy gets irritated & pops her door open. (If a Mama doesn’t know how to fix a camper door, it simply doesn’t matter how many bolts, screws & springs a Mama purchases (see the previous post A Gem…for explanation).)
Let me tell you, peoples, My Greg did not disappoint! 1st off, he has a big, fenced yard for me to run, play & poop in freely. Greg actually invited me into his house!!! I’m a huge dog & he was comfortable with me in his home. I couldn’t go into the kitchen or by the couch where my man liked to sit. Even though I was told to lay on the wood floor or stamp-sized door rug, I was happy to hang with my favorite peoples. Greg asked Mom a few times if he could get me a lovely comfy quilt to lay on & My Mama always said, “Oh, no need; he’s fine, thx anyway.” Honestly, I wanted to grab Mom’s ear & drag her to the floor so she could make a more informed decision.
When My Man brought out steak chunks for me to eat, I forgot all about the floor. In fact, I sorta swooned when my olfactory’s got hit with that cooked meat scent.
The following day My Main Man Greg made me breakfast! Sausage & eggs. He put the egg on top instead of mixing it; just how I like it. This yum fest turned me into a drooling fool. I love this man with all me heart!
Notice the stupid carrot? 1 guess as to who tossed that in!
Greg invited a friend & her dog Chester to play with us at the neighborhood park. As Chester & I were playing, I heard Mom say, “Boy, my life would be easier if Otis was the same size as Chester.” That hurt me feelings & I reacted by doing a very, very bad thing.
Chester loves his balls, no… I’m not talking about the ones attached to him; I’m referring to his throw ball. He was having soo much fun chasing his ball I decided I wanted it. Because I’m 2 times Chester’s size, I decided to take it. Chester said, “Hell NO,” & the game was on.
Chester is no wimp, but at literally ½ my size, what’s the poor dog gonna do. In me effort to show Mom the advantages of having a dog my size I completely over played my paw. As I stood over Chester, I growled the deepest growl I could muster then added raised ruff & bared teeth. After a quick minute, I realized ALL the 2-leggeds were yelling at me.
After coming to my senses, I stopped my rude & uncalled-for behavior. Chesters Mom was all over him with love & concern. My Mom looked at me with disgust & embarrassment. I couldn’t meet Greg’s eyes.
After that debacle, we walked back to Greg’s house, where Chester left post haste singing, “You’re in big trouble, you’re in big trouble. I’m gonna get lots of love & treats while you’re in big trouble.”
I got put in a time-out & no more steak for me.
The next morning Greg showed forgiveness by giving me his last egg. Mom appeared to have finally recovered from the incident when I inadvertently tipped her over. I thought I’d again be seeing a time-out, but Mom just laughed. (Whew.)
As we headed out of Greg’s driveway, I said a silent prayer, “Please let me see My Main Man Greg again & soon.”