Davis Bayous Campground is near the town of Ocean Springs on the Gulf of Mississippi and is part of the Gulf Islands National Seashore, meaning many people camp in this tiny squished-together campground.
As we were driving to our specific camp spot, I heard Mom saying, “It’s only for one night, it’s only for one night.”
Arriving at our site, Mom almost cried with relief.
View from the front of The Ivy. All the campers are almost on top of each other.
View directly outside the camper door. Look at all the space I have to run and nose around. Plus, Mom can gaze at trees instead of the food the neighbor is cooking.
View behind camper. Soo much-wooded space plus a secret path. Mom was in camper paradise. Wonder where the little trail we only have access to might lead?
YES! The trail emptied into a lake, a perfect swim place for a large hot, road-weary Mutt to cool off. And where Mom could watch people fish, boat & kayak.
Mom & me were both ecstatic with our camp spot. It was the only spot in the entire campground with an area for me to roam and have direct access to the lake. Mom felt quite satisfied & would go back in a heartbeat.
We got camp set up early, so Mom decided to play tourist as this was her first time in Mississippi. Fortunately for me, only outside stuff sparked My Mama’s curiosity; that meant I wasn’t a sad Mutt stuck in a hot auto all afternoon.
Crossing over the bridge into town was a marina with these cute boats.
These homes are one-family dwellings.
Mom could only marvel at the immense size.
All the pictured houses were located right across from the ocean shoreline. There wasn’t any public parking on this narrow windy road, so Mom assumed the beaches were private. Mom also thought many dogs have peed in these yards, so she didn’t come unglued when I pee marked all the areas I felt needed marking.
I’m prancing on the part of the beach down from the pictured houses.
There were other dogs on the beach; all us four-legged ignored each other to keep our two-legged parents happy.
We got back to camp, had supper, and went on our evening stroll down to the water. As we were the only ones down by the water, I wore my electronic neckwear, no rope attached to Mom.
As I always do, I let my nose provide my direction. Imagine my surprise when I rousted out a cute little bear-type critter. When he turned around, and my keen eyes spied the mask, I knew the cute bear thing was actually a nasty, mean raccoon. Those raccoons always try to hide behind the mask. I’m older, wiser, and no longer fall for the cute, come play with me act; those raccoons are best left alone or hanging for dear life in a tree. 😊
Mom is easily distracted, so her mind was miles away when she heard a commotion in the spindly trees in the lake shore’s swamp. Mom’s mind went from distracted to foul when she realized I was directly involved with disturbing the evening’s peace. Foul was kicked aside by fear when My Mama thought I’d rustled up an alligator.
After dashing into the woods, Mom found me sitting at the base of a long skinny want-a-be tree gazing up at a raccoon, who had a death grip on a few spindles swaying in the breeze.
Mom kept telling me what a good boy I was walking back to camp! I was stunned, speechless, cuz I thought I was going to get me butt reamed for treeing a raccoon.
The evening got weirder cuz Mom kept calling & sending the raccoon picture to friends and family like she was proud of me. Proud of me for what? I did want any dog would do, and heaven help me if it had been a cat. Then I, for sure, would have gotten a verbal chewing and probably grounded too. Hey, maybe if I made the cat wear a mask before I harassed it, I wouldn’t get yelled at when I chased the fast furry play-things.
My take away from this evening’s excitement is … as long as the animal is wearing a mask, it’s ok to tree the sucker.
Tomorrow, we cross back into Louisiana. Mom is excited to be once again back in the land of “The nicest people ever.”