Mommy and Daddy talked to me all week about going camping with them, so I was not nervous at all when they piled going-away things all over the kitchen and then in the car. I was one cool dude. Number one: I knew I was going. Number two: I knew they’d take me to go potty before I jumped up in the car. Number three: I saw Daddy pack my food and treats. What else is there?
One night before the camping trip, I saw a whole lot of my yellowish, bone-shaped treats in a bulging bag right there on the kitchen floor next to the cast iron skillets and lanterns. How was I supposed to know Daddy didn’t intend for me to eat them all right then and there? Okay, I knew. Even knowing I’d been piggish, I didn’t look a bit sheepish. I was glad I ate them and just smiled and smiled up at Mommy after my feast. She said she hoped I wouldn’t get sick tomorrow in the car, but I knew I’d be just fine. I licked my lips and smiled and smiled and smiled some more.
First step in a camping trip—I get to go bye-bye in the car. I was a good boy in the back seat for a very long time. I got to lie on my soft cushy bed on one side of the back seat, but being surrounded by mountains of clothes and pillows and coolers, I couldn’t move around at all. That was okay. I lay there watching Mommy and Daddy in the front seat, and whenever the car slowed down, I stood up, looked out my window, and whined to show them how excited I would be to get out of the car right then. But we only got out a few times.
Then we got to a forest where Daddy set up our little green cloth house with the screened porch on the front. Mommy put my food and water bowls on the floor there, but I couldn’t get into the porch from the forest or from the inside of the tent by myself. I had to wait for one of my parents to unzip screens to let me near my water. Zip, zip, zip—that’s the main camping sound I remember in the tent.
When the people ate their food at the table, I could lie on a soft chair near their bench. But when they got up to go over to the big fire to cook, then they were too far away, and I felt very lonely. The chair was too saggy and slippery for me to jump out of, so I was stuck.
Sometimes I got to go for little rides into a town. I liked that. Daddy walked me up and down lots of sidewalks while Mommy went inside stores. One night we went to a fish-boil restaurant, and I got to go inside too. Shhh … don’t tell my mom or dad, but there were some very interesting things to lick on that floor.
Then we went to a park by a big lake to watch the sun set with lots of other people and some other dogs. The other dogs sat properly still with their humans. But I went right up to everybody I could to say hello. They let me put my paws up on them. Some let me lick them. People lined up on the grass to pet me. I was so happy, I almost wiggled my butt right off. My tail was not tired one minute though. That night when I fell asleep snuggled up against my parents’ legs on the air mattress, I was one happy camper.
One night before the camping trip, I saw a whole lot of my yellowish, bone-shaped treats in a bulging bag right there on the kitchen floor next to the cast iron skillets and lanterns. How was I supposed to know Daddy didn’t intend for me to eat them all right then and there? Okay, I knew. Even knowing I’d been piggish, I didn’t look a bit sheepish. I was glad I ate them and just smiled and smiled up at Mommy after my feast. She said she hoped I wouldn’t get sick tomorrow in the car, but I knew I’d be just fine. I licked my lips and smiled and smiled and smiled some more.
First step in a camping trip—I get to go bye-bye in the car. I was a good boy in the back seat for a very long time. I got to lie on my soft cushy bed on one side of the back seat, but being surrounded by mountains of clothes and pillows and coolers, I couldn’t move around at all. That was okay. I lay there watching Mommy and Daddy in the front seat, and whenever the car slowed down, I stood up, looked out my window, and whined to show them how excited I would be to get out of the car right then. But we only got out a few times.
Then we got to a forest where Daddy set up our little green cloth house with the screened porch on the front. Mommy put my food and water bowls on the floor there, but I couldn’t get into the porch from the forest or from the inside of the tent by myself. I had to wait for one of my parents to unzip screens to let me near my water. Zip, zip, zip—that’s the main camping sound I remember in the tent.
When the people ate their food at the table, I could lie on a soft chair near their bench. But when they got up to go over to the big fire to cook, then they were too far away, and I felt very lonely. The chair was too saggy and slippery for me to jump out of, so I was stuck.
Sometimes I got to go for little rides into a town. I liked that. Daddy walked me up and down lots of sidewalks while Mommy went inside stores. One night we went to a fish-boil restaurant, and I got to go inside too. Shhh … don’t tell my mom or dad, but there were some very interesting things to lick on that floor.
Then we went to a park by a big lake to watch the sun set with lots of other people and some other dogs. The other dogs sat properly still with their humans. But I went right up to everybody I could to say hello. They let me put my paws up on them. Some let me lick them. People lined up on the grass to pet me. I was so happy, I almost wiggled my butt right off. My tail was not tired one minute though. That night when I fell asleep snuggled up against my parents’ legs on the air mattress, I was one happy camper.
