Sleepaway Camp
I banished Beau to the kennel this weekend. I like to think of it as sleepaway camp for doggies, afterall he seems to enjoy himself quite immensely while he is there. I’m pretty sure the staff at the kennel however, is glad to see him go - if I can hear him baying from outside their building, I can’t imagine what it’s like inside. I pay extra for them to smile and tell me that they loved having him stay there, when in reality I know they are ready to boot him to the curb.
Being that Beau came from a kennel situation, spending his first 3.5 years on cement, he knows the drill. He knows that when people walk by the run’s door if he jumps up and looks obnoxious enough, someone will take pity on the poor soul and offer him a scratch or a treat. Also, since he’s fairly well behaved at the kennel, he also knows that if he’s a good boy and comes when called, he gets extra play time outside in this weather that he truly enjoys. And me? The benefits of sleepaway camp for me are… three days of peace and quiet.
Having Beau (or any dog for that matter) is like being the custodian of a small child and like having a small child, it’s nice to escape them for a while and have an “adults only” weekend. I can stay out until midnight and not feel guilty about a few whiskey sours and not being there to give him a walk or letting him out to pee at a reasonable hour. I can even sleep in and don’t have to wait with bated breath until he figures out I’m actually awake and the morning ritual of begging for breakfast begins.
It’s been nice to be home this weekend. My parents keep joking I’m just using them as a cheap motel, which is in fact, partly true. But I enjoy their company immensely and my mom and I had a good day today shopping. And not worrying about Beau.
And Theo? Well… hopefully he’s holding down the fort and doesn’t mind a dirty litter box.
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I hate to admit it, but… I love my cat. I don’t know if I can extend this statement to, I love cats, but certainly I love this little feline invader (ambassador?) that has taken up residence under my bed. In just the few days that I have had him, I’ve been amused, and worried and had all my cat-hating barriers removed. I thought that having a cat would help enhance my clinical skills in dealing with cats (afterall, how can I counsel clients on feline behavior, care, keeping or medical treatment when I have never had a cat?) but I can see that he’s really going to enhance my life.
I never know when he will pop up out of somewhere, meowing plaintively for god knows what, or when he’ll dart out from under the bed (or back under it). He sits in my laps and purrs, which feels so weird, while I study, and when I sleep at night he lays across my chest or with his face in my arm pit. He’s still not so sure about Beau, but Beau wants to be friends if he can.
I thought after taking Theo to the vet yesterday he would hate me forever, and for a while I thought I was right. He didn’t leave his hiding spot under my bed all day and wouldn’t even come when I called (which he was doing before the vet). But right now, he’s grooming himself while nestling in my lap as the election returns come in. I am finding that cats are very strange, very different from dogs, but enjoyable in their own way.
Cut feet, sunburns, and dog fights, oh my
Camping is pretty much awesome, and there is no other way to describe it. There is nothing like being outside, sleeping in a tent under the stars and playing in a murky lake. Steven and I went to Lake Sommerville this weekend, brought all three dogs, and “roughed it” for the weekend. Yeah, sure, we had an A/C unit in our tent and air mattresses and there was a shower facility about a quarter of a mile away. Oh, and his parents served us breakfast, lunch and dinner from their camper in another spot.
When we first got there, Beau freaked like I expected he would. I staked him and Faye out on 20-foot lines and they settled right in to the camping life. They ran around in the nearby field and played with Miko, who was tied to a tree about 10 feet away. We took them down to the water, in which Beau got in and got out as fast as he could. Faye took to it like a duck though – jumping and splashing in the waves and even almost playing with Miko. She’s got a great personality, so mild, so tame, so tolerant and easygoing. She rode in a kennel in the truck bed on the way up and slept in her kennel outside the tent at night.
On Saturday, they got left most of the day at the camp site, but I went back frequently to check on them, moving the stake and kennel out of the sun as needed and replenishing the water bowl. Beau barked his head off at any passerby between napping in the kennel with Faye, and although perhaps a little stressed and hot, seemed to be doing the camping thing alright.
I cut a big gash in my foot on a rock in the water on my way back to check on the dogs, so they got left for a while because I was bleeding quite a bit and couldn’t hobble around too well on the sandy beach. When everything scabbed over, I went and grabbed Faye and we went for a swim, while Beau was locked up in the kennel to keep him from getting into any mischief. She loved it. She splashed and swam… and pooped in the water. She had a big grin on her face, and just loved floating around in the cool water, while I got sunburned beyond belief and Beau napped in the shade.
After lunch, the dogs went back to the camp site for the afternoon, and we went back down to play on the jet ski for a while. It was getting late in the evening, so Steven and I went to check on Beau and Faye while dinner was cooking. While we were gone, Beau had practically dug a tunnel to China behind the kennel. Faye was as happy as ever. I turned around for five seconds to get the hose to wash them down and cool them off, and Steven gave them a bowl of water.
It was in that moment that Beau had had his last straw for the day and he about ripped Faye apart. She was crying, she was on her back struggling, she didn’t even know what hit her. Beau was all flash and gash, something I never would have expected, not in a million years. My little tolerant, mild-mannered moose became a starved, crazed beast in the blink of an eye and he gave Faye some quite impressive battle wounds.
She’s doing okay now, nothing too serious luckily, but she’ll probably have a scar on her muzzle and between her eyes from Beau going psycho on her. She was wonderful at the time too – scared and shaking, but allowed me to examine her face and flush it with water. Needless to say, Steven was wonderful and gracious and helped me get the two of them loaded back in the truck and we brought them home for the night. They were fine here alone and now this morning, other than being cautious, you wouldn’t have known anything had gone down.
I learned three things this weekend on my first camping trip with Steven. Number one: wear shoes in the water. Number two: wear more sunscreen. Number three: leave the dogs at home.
I think I got lucky this time, I think Beau was pushed to the limits and it was all my fault for not seeing the signs of his stress. But I had hoped that things would go well. I guess you live and you learn and there’s not much than can be done about it. Certainly, it won’t stop me from going back to the lake – just this time… dogs in the kennel, or dogs with a sitter. Sigh.
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