Monday, March 11, 2013
It's time for me to admit it. My black lab is no gypsy.
He hates to travel. He hates to camp. He hates my driving.
He does love the beach.
The vet gave us some pills to calm his travel nerves and what I got for my effort was a stoned dog fighting off the drugs looking at me with that " I don't feel so good" look.
We cut our beach trip short.
After spending the night with an 87 lb unhappy comatose dog piled on top of us we called it quits. He was crammed in a tiny van, drugged and feeling like a doggie without a safe place and really just wanted to go home and see his gramma.
So, my dog is no gypsy, he's happy at home with his scheduled walks, morning biscuits from gramma, warm giant bed, toy box, bones box, the kitchen where the good smells come from, his trees and grass he marks as his own.
He'd prefer the world doesn't move on wheels.
He'd like it if the beach was closer.
The waves are fun but you can't drink the water so it's not a big loss.
The Columbia River will do just fine.