We stopped to play in the sand on our way out of Mississippi.
Mom thinks my paw prints are small for carrying around a dog of my size. I think they are the perfect size for running with lightning speed, jumping huge spaces, and climbing with balance on those precarious obstacles Mom wants pictures of.
On the beach with my perfect stride.
Saltwater is weird. I don’t trust it, so I only wade, never swim in it. I don’t drink it either cuz, Yuck.
Lake Shore Baptist Church. This massive church is nestled on the outskirts of a tiny town. Cool looking building, but Mom thought the size made it seem out of place.
We are crossing over Lake Pontchartrain Bridge which is 4.8 miles long! The water went on forever! Mom and I both were amazed such a long bridge could be built.
After a couple-hour drive, Mom was excited to be back in Louisiana but initially distressed over our campsite. (Do you see a pattern?)
Again, the front of The Ivy saw closely knitted campers.
The back view was wild and green.
Wild and green plus an armadillo! Her name is Amy. I wanted to get up close and personal in Amy’s space, but of course, Mom said, “NO!”
Never fear; there was more action near…
A Bee came out to play. Bee fun causes me to jump and dance in the air.
My rippling shoulder muscles impressed all who stopped to watch the action.
(Those who couldn’t see the bee thought I was possessed.)
Mom got a picture of the bee. Yay, Mom!
My birthday is coming up. I told Mom I wanted a subscription to Bee’s R Us. A jar of bees will be sent to me every month. She could let one bee out every day and watch with delight as I danced and pranced in the air.
Mom burst my balloon with negativity like, “Bee’s R Us doesn’t exist, and you will break a leg if you keep leaping after bees.” I fear my fourth birthday isn’t going to be anything worth remembering, much less blogging about.
On a more positive note, a hop, skip, and short walk away from our site was a closed, unused road. It was perfect for me to run, sniff out an armadillo and scare up a bird or two. Mom was pleased and said, “If we ever want to do something in New Orleans, we’ll stay in this campground on this site.”
Mom nor I or the camp host, for that matter, could understand why people choose to walk their dogs around the circle of campers instead of down this deserted road. At the campground, all four leggeds need to be leashed. Down the deserted road, the dogs could run free.
I’m starting to think that I get more off-leash running than most hounds. That’s probably why my coat is a lustrous golden brown, I’m the perfect weight, and my muscle mass is impressive.
I need all the run time I can get after spending miles and miles of my life cramped in an SUV.
Our next stop is Palmetto Island State Park in Abbeville, Louisiana.