We had less than a two-hour drive. Mom was surprised and not at all pleased when I started to whine. Mom said, “What’s wrong with you? We’ve only been on the road for 20 minutes; go lay down.”
I’m not sure where I’m supposed to “go” to lay down in my cramped back seat space. When I fold my legs, I’m lying down. I think Mom really means “sit down and shut up.”
Me, “I gotta poop.”
After five minutes of not whining, I started up again. Mom was like, “You’re going to have to get used to riding in the car for long distances. I know you don’t like it, but it takes a while to get from place to place.
Me, “I gotta Poop.”
“Otis, what in the world are you crying about? I can’t pull over every time you get bored.”
Me, “I gotta POOP.”
“Your nuts if you think I’m going to listen to you whine in my ear this entire trip.”
Me, “I gotta POOP Bad!”
“Well, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll stop at the next wayside rest.”
We crossed into Mississippi and went straight to the welcome center, where I bolted outa the auto into the tall grass. I did my business with a tremendous sense of relief, then spent the next 10 minutes investigating the new Mississippi smells.
We get back into the auto, and Mom goes, “Why didn’t you tell me you had to poop?” Grrrr … Mom understands all the intricate details of my life to write a blog, yet she can’t understand “I gotta poop!” Humm, occasionally I wonder if a good old paw slap might get my point across.
Mom didn’t hear a peep outa me the rest of the trip.
We arrived at Big Biloxi campground and found it to be perfect. There is lots of room for Mom to be comfortable and, way more important, lots of space for me to roam & run with Fred.
We toured the campground two times cuz Mom wanted to be sure we got the perfect spot. With her sassy little come hither backend, The Ivy enticed a couple from Minnesota to look up my blog and stop to say “Hi.” Mom is excited to visit with them more this weekend.
Mom’s ideal camp spot was right across the road from an excellent tiny independent of any lake slough. (It’s not a pond, not a stream, not a mud hole. Slough is the only name I could come up with.) Seriously, It’s so close. Mom can keep an eye on me while she is setting up camp.
Even though my slough contains more water than mud, I managed to dig up a bit of wet dirt.
I’m in my happy place because I can cool off, relax, and eat grass simultaneously. It just doesn’t get better than this.
I understand there was an ant uprising in Alabama, and many of the little buggers thought flight to Mississippi for a new start was a grand idea. For whatever reason, they thought The Ivy made the perfect transportation.
Little did they know The Ivy dances down the road like a drunken sailor filled with jumping beans; all the jostling made the ants come out of hiding, so Mom got a big surprise when she parked and stepped into the camper. Ants everywhere!
My Mama doesn’t like creepy crawlers of any size or shape. She immediately started squishing ants and spaying them and the camper with the stuff she uses on me for flies. I hope she empties the bottle on those nasty hitchhikers.
It doesn’t list ants as something it kills, but they all skedaddled outa here before the spraying was finished.
Mom and me had a great couple of days running free with Fred. We haven’t seen one dog the entire time camped here. Then a series of unfortunate events happened.
Mom and me left for my run. As we came around the corner, a man (the camp host) was peacefully sunning himself in his chair with his dog at his feet.
I startled the man and scared his pup. His pup went Off barking and howling. I didn’t get close to the dog, but I started barking back; it was a loud mess. The host yelled at Mom to put me on a leash. Mom immediately attached me to Fred. Luckily the nice man from Minnesota picked that time to visit the host; hopefully, that distracted the mad from the host man.
Mom wished she could have explained that I was on a leash to the host. Because of our strength differences and lack of substantial size differences, the best way for My Mama to control me is by electronic collar.
I respect Mom and try to follow her commands, but If I have a strong hankering to go see something, she doesn’t have a prayer of holding me back via a rope. On the other hand, less than a one-sec mild jolt to my electronic collar, and immediately Mom has 100% of my attention.
The other unfortunate part was we stopped across from the camp host site to pay the camping fee. When I’m running hard, I don’t pay any attention to people or other dogs; I just run by, but if I stop, I notice and want to engage what I see.
We did the entire run with me attached to Fred. When I trot alongside Fred, I see and smell everything. That means Mom has to constantly be on guard (Mom only uses the shock collar for emergencies), ready to hit the brakes before I yank her and Fred to the ground on my way to investigate a curiosity. Both Mom and me agreed it was about as much fun as a root canal.
Alas, it was a mess from start to finish.
Tomorrow we are leaving Big Biloxi Campground. I’m sure My Mama will find a place at our next stop for me to get my heart racing and legs pumping again.