Mom was excited; she caught the moon coming up as the sun settled into the horizon. I was not enthusiastic and, if I’m honest, a bit dismayed that Mom expected me to howl like my cousin the wolf!
My Mama thinks crazy sometimes. First off, my DNA is Pit, mixed with other quite desirable breeds, though Wolf is not one of them. I look like a wolf with my Mastiff build, but that doesn’t mean I know how to howl.
Second, the moon was not full, and if your “ahhing” at the sunset, it ain’t dark enough to bay. Wolves and their brethren create those full moon melodies covered by the dark of night.
Third, Mom would tell me, “Be quiet” if I broke out into a deep-throated late-night wolf song.
Now you all can see what I endure. Mom’s ideas cause me to roll my eyes so much that I’m afraid they might dislodge or get stuck.
Treats would better help me live with Mom’s crazy. Hint, hint – send goodies!
Picture of the ride Mom fell in love with. I guess it goes speedy-quick and turns on a dime, all things My Mama appreciates.
Mom also strongly enjoyed the health aspect. The rough bouncy ride loosened Mom’s lower back so much that she didn’t creak when bending to fill my water dish. That’s not the only physical aspect that got loosened… Can you say, “Bowel cleanse?” That mower managed to eject a few pounds off Mom, which made her want to run out and buy her own.
I can’t imagine Mom pulling the Ivy back to Minnesota behind a mower, can you? Plus, where am I gonna ride? In The Ivy? I don’t think so.
While Mom was singing songs of happiness while chopping grass down to size, I was stuck back at camp. Typically, it is not this wet, but that’s the only difference in my day-to-day life. Mom didn’t like the rocky, dusty site we camped on, but the views of the bay and sunsets made it tolerable.
I was moping around waiting for Mom to get back from mowing when my eyes spied this magnificent bird flying back and forth, back and forth across the sky. I don’t know how Ms. Bird stayed airborne as I never saw her flap a wing.
Birds’ sky travel was mesmerizing and hypnotizing, which helped me pass the time, waiting for Mom to get back to my side.
Mom not only saw the bird, but she also talked to the little lady it was connected to. This little lady teaches boardsailing, so Mom plans to visit and sail next year. I can only hope there isn’t any room for me on the board.
The only reason I get in the kayak; is Mom knows I fit.
This is Mom’s non-mowing ride. She’s official cuz it says, Camp Host. I called “Shotgun,” hopped in, and was excited to be on our way until Mom turned the key.
That contraption rattled, gasped, and jerked around like it simultaneously had an epileptic and asthma fit. I was jerked forward and would have bonked my head on the windshield if it hadn’t been missing. The windshield was missing, not my head. Then I lost my footing as my bulk was slammed back against the seat. That was enough “Camp Hosting” for me. As soon as Mom let go of my collar, I bailed.
My Mama coxed, begged with treats, and finally threatened my very being, trying to get me back into that blasted nightmare machine. I boldly and with conviction said “Hell No” to that deathtrap on wheels. Because I weigh almost as much as Mom, she couldn’t really do anything, could she?
This is the scene Mom, minus her shot-gun partner, drove through when locking the campground up for the night.
Mom is having more fun on this adventure than I am. Harrumph.