Well I’ve officially tried something new. I didn’t really have much say in it, since dad tricked me by asking if I wanted to go for a ride, which of course I did, but he neglected to tell me the ride would end in the middle of a huge forest on a remote island with lions and bears and thousands of squirrels and other wild things.
OK, dad says it was a campground, not an island, and to stop being a drama-dog.
And there were no lions.
And probably no bears.
But there were definitely thousands of squirrels, and it was clear from the start that I was on their turf, and they were not too worried about me.
Yes, we were going camping, just the two of us.
Back to my story…
After a fairly short drive, only a day or two, we ended up at Watkins Mill State Park campground. I actually didn’t recognize it as the place we drove to a few days earlier to “scope out” good spots, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention — I was, but again… squirrels.
We parked and I joyfully hopped out ready to do squirrel battle, but was instantly tied to the bumper. Rats.
I think I heard at least two squirrels mock me from above. Fuzzy little hellions.
This time I did pay more attention to what dad was doing, because he said something about, “we’ll stay here tonight” and near as I could tell, there wasn’t a hotel in sight. So I watched as he got stuff out of the jeep, spread it on the ground, connected some poles and stuff, and then whoosh… a house appeared out of nowhere!
He walked around and unzipped the door (how come all doors don’t have zippers?) and started carrying more stuff inside.
When he finally let me come in I was amazed to find a bed, a table, and even MY bed that is usually at home upstairs and… get this… a FOOD BOWL! It was empty but hey, bonus points!
Then we went for a long walk down through the campground. Since it was a Tuesday afternoon, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. We only found two other tents, and then a bunch of spoiled brats in trailers plugged into 50 amp “roughing it” poles.
We smugly walked back to our spot, carefully sniffing at everything I could while dad repeatedly said, “no you can’t chase him” a lot.
By then it was time for dinner, and dad pulled a table out of a bag like some kind of rabbit-safe magician, and before I knew it, something on it burst into flames and I smelled chicken. (It was really windy outside so he didn’t cook on the picnic table. The tent made a good wind-block.)
Sadly, I only got to watch the chicken, and then my bowl appeared with my normal food in it. (I did get a bit of chicken and some tortilla before he was done though.)
After dinner, he set up our portable bonfire and we toasted marshmallows and enjoyed the warmth of the flames. That thing puts out a ton of heat; so much that I almost didn’t notice how quickly the temperature outside was dropping.
Once it was pitch black outside we decided there wasn’t a lot to do besides go to bed, so we called it an early night.
I was almost asleep when I heard unmistakable squirrel voices say, “psst… does ya tink it sleeping?” Followed by the crunching footsteps in dry leaves that sound like an 800 lb gorilla.
I sat up and growled into the darkness.
“Wat wuz dat? I heard sumpin’.”
“Hey, over dis way, I gots cracker bits!”
<stomp stomp stomp stomp…>
“You eated it all? Where is more?”
“Probably in the pen with the dumb woofer.”
I growled louder.
“Shaddup you make it mad.”
“So?”
“So… it dumb but fast.”
That made me bark, which woke up dad, who arrogantly told me everything was fine and to go to sleep.
Eventually, the squirrels moved on and I climbed up on dad’s cot and found a spot to curl up and cut off his circulation.
When my internal alarm clock woke me up at 5:00 am it was 40 degrees outside, but a toasty 42 in our tent. Dad begrudgingly got up and took me outside to do my business and gave me my breakfast. Then I climbed back up with him and buried myself in the covers to sleep again.
We snoozed off and on until the sun came up, at which point the coyotes started howling. I swear the instant the top of the tent got brighter, they started calling and barking and howling like the whole pack was fighting over a parking spot at Wolf Mart or something. Then as suddenly as they started they were done and all we heard were birds.
After I helped dad make breakfast (on the picnic table this time), we went for a really long walk through the other side of the campground, into the woods, out onto a lake trail, and across a dam to the other side of the lake. There were a bunch of geese over there that I wasn’t allowed to chase, and we met a couple of people on the trail who talked about how cute and soft I was.
I tried to tell them about how I bravely guarded our tent and chased away 800 pound gorillas and stuff, but they just went on about my fluffiness. I need to get dad to be a better advocate when I’m being heroic.
When we returned to our campsite it was time to pack everything up, so everything went back in bags and back into the jeep until it was like we were never there.
We were home in time for a late lunch.
So that was my first daddy-doggie camping trip. I think I’d probably do it again, but if it’s going to be that chilly I might have to request my own down blanket.
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