Camper is gone

Mom here.

I hate to inform Camper's friends that Camper is gone. He had to undergo surgery for a stomach issue. It wasn't emergency surgery but it was serious. We sought several opinions, and all of the doctors agreed it had to be done. The surgery was done by the best specialist (whom Camper thought was named Sir Jin) and he appeared to come through just fine.

But in the middle of the night the surgeon called and told me that Camper was being taken out for a walk and collapsed. Dad, Meri, Zamboni and I rushed to the hospital, but Camper had already died.

We are devastated. Camper was funny, intelligent, energetic, and our household revolved around him. He would have been three years old in May, and we were planning a trip to his Grandma's house to celebrate his and Zamboni's birthdays. We are stunned that he is gone so soon with so much living to do. Yesterday, he was energetic and active. Today, he's gone. It's too much for us to comprehend.

Zamboni and Meri were able to see him, sniff him and and know that he is, in fact, not coming home. They are shocked as well.

I know that Camper made a lot of you laugh. His diary here trailed off the last several months as he and Meri kept each other busy. He's been busy "agilizing" (as he liked to call it) and with the uncommon amounts of snow we've had this year. You should be assured that the fact that the lack of activity here means that Camper was having more activity -- more happiness and fun -- in life. And that's good, as these months ended up being his final months.

"His final months." I can't believe I just wrote that about My Crazy Man. I love that guy so much. He's my service dog and I'll be lost without him. But even more than that, he loved us, and we cherish and love him. I don't know how we'll ever move on from that. We're just lost right now.

Thanks for being such appreciative fans. I know his antics always made me laugh, even when he was breaking rules and even when he was bugging the heck out of me. I don't know what we'll do with this diary. My head is spinning and my heart is breaking. One thing at a time.

Bless all of you.

Thank you.

Mom.

Mysterious Day

This morning, I woke up early because Dad woke up early. He was putting on his play shoes, which I always take as a good sign. When he puts on his shiny black shoes (that sometimes are brown), that means he's about to abandon me for the day. But when he puts on his play shoes, I follow him around the house just to remind him how much I love him, what a great companion and protector I am, and that yes, I would enjoy a soccer or frisbee game very much. Even a walk would be nice.

But today, no matter how much I followed him around, he wasn't paying much attention to me. I followed him around the garage, where he was gathering metal sticks and stuff with cords (that I learned as a puppy that if you even think about chewing on them, humans get very excited.). He took out the flashlights even though it was day time, and some other stuff I had no idea what it was. And he said, "Camper, you're going to stay in the house with Mom."

What? Why would I do that, when Dad clearly was about to undertake something very important?

With that, he closed the garage door, walked me into the house, and closed the front door behind him. I was trapped in the house, like a prisoner. So, as an unhappy abused prisoner, I jumped up on the bed next to Mom, who was still asleep, since it was still dark out. I tried to figure out what was going on. Where was Dad going? With whom? And most importantly, Why didn't he take me? It hurt my brain to think about it anymore. I was trapped in prison, and I couldn't do anything about it. So I stretched out on the bed, which was cushiony and warm, put my head on Dad's pillow and went to sleep.

I was dreaming about herding turkeys when I heard big fat squirrels on our roof. I often hear squirrels running on our roof, and they kind of bug me. But usually, I hear them during the spring and summer. But it's winter now, and these squirrels sounded like they weighed about 100 pounds. Seriously! They thumped around and bumped around. It sounded like they were rolling around 50 pound acorns up there. So I started to bark.

Mom rolled over and told me to "be quiet, it's just Dad. " Then she went back to sleep. Mom was obviously confused. Dad had left, and our house was under attack by giant squirrels. Not only that, but the squirrels were Rogue Hard Rock Rodents who were piping some very disturbing noise into our house. I'm sure it was part of their plot to warp my brain so I couldn't defend my home and family. I was determined to protect the house. I started to run around the house and bark some more.

Mom called me and said, "Camper. Stop. You're being crazy." She told me to Hop Up on the bed. But I couldn't. How could I lie around while our home was under attack? I whined to her, hoping she'd understand. She didn't. She put me in my Boardroom. She went back to sleep. So I just lay there and listened to the rabid overweight squirrels take hostile control of my territory.

After a while, Mom got up and let Meri, Boni and me out to the backyard. I ran outside, barking as I ran through the door, announcing the the squirrels that their days were numbered. But when I looked on the roof, there were no squirrels. There were no giant acorns. Nor did I see any giant paw prints or marks from huge acorns. Most disturbing of all, I didn't smell anything. It's like they were rodenty phantasms!

Mom called us in for breakfast. I saw no reason to stand outside in the cold and look for something I clearly couldn't see while my meal got cold. I thought about all of this while I was eating. Something was definitely up though. Then I heard Dad call out to Mom from the garage. Dad was home! He asked Mom to give him something, which she did. But when I went out to the garage to see him, he was gone again.

That was odd. Did the squirrels take Dad hostage and Mom was paying a ransom? That made sense. I mean, I see that happen all the time on TV.

I went back outside and sat in the back yard for a while. I waited for a couple hours. I played with Meri during that time. Mom and I played Chuck-It. I wrestled with Zamboni until she got mad because I play too rough. I watched Meri dig a hole and then get in trouble for that. I saw the stupid crows. I thought about asking them if THEY saw any giant squirrels, but I figure that they were probably in cahoots with them, so I just barked at the crows more vigorously than usual.

But I never saw any giant 100 pound squirrels.

Then I went in the house and I HEARD them on the roof again! I rushed outside, and they weren't there. There was nothing on the roof!

Finally, Dad came home again. He changed clothes in the garage and took a shower. I whined to him about the 100 pound squirrels but he didn't understand what I was saying. I think he thought I was a madman.

But I know what I heard. I'm not crazy.

Thanksgiving 2008. I'm late.

Happy belated Thanksgiving.

It's called belated because I be late.

I was having too great of a day to stop and write my diary, although I thought about it, and Mom even said to me, "aren't you going to write your diary today?" But first I was watching the Macys Thanksgiving Parade with Zamboni and Meri, and we were waiting for the Underdog floaty balloon thing. Underdog is superhero, of course, so we love him, but since he's a beagle, Boni has a secret crush on him. Meri was very excited to see him too, because we have told her that as a beagle, she could grow up to be in the parade some day. I know, this isn't very nice, but it's funny, don't you think? That's what little sisters are for, after all. To give a hard time to.

Then the National Dog Show was on T.V. and I was cheering on the Herding Group (the German Shepherd in particular, of course). So I figured I'd get to my diary later. But by then, dinner was served, and of course, we had to watch Mom and Dad eat to see what we would be enjoying for OUR dinner.

I love Thanksgiving. Next to Christmas and my birthday, it's my favorite day of the year. Mom and Dad start cooking early and they're always in a great mood. This year, they sliced off the breast part of the turkey, so that I could have the rest of the raw turkey during the next few weeks, which was very considerate of them.

Mom decided to grill the turkey outside, so it was like a summer Thanksgiving. Every time we went outside to play (during commercials), we could smell the delicious turkey cooking. Meri kept walking over to the grill just to make sure that Mom hadn't dropped a bit of meat. Meri is a beagle; she's fastidious like that.

Meanwhile, they were cooking sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, vegetables, dressing and all sorts of other wonderful things in the house. The house smelled buttery, potatoey, piey, and everything. That's the thing about poor little human noses. They can't discern all the amazing smells. They just sniff and say "this house smells great."

But we dogs, especially dogs like German Shepherd and Beagles, who have especially great sniffers (220 million scent receptors, as opposed to a human's paltry 5 million scent cells.), we smell everything separately. I smelled the apple, onion, celery, cranberry, broth, and each of the fresh herbs in the dressing. I also noticed that there were several kinds of bread in the dressing, including wheat, white and sourdough. Boy, that smelled GREAT!

Boni and Meri would like point out that they are better sniffers because they're little and have the same amount of scent cells as I do in my bigger nose. However, I would like to point out that I have a bigger brain, and don't just think with my nose. So there.

So after the humans ate dinner, it was time for clean up. As she traditionally has, Zamboni stood by the oven and waited. If there are succulent tidbits, Mom hands her a bit, and she samples them "just to make sure." I've asked to "to make sure of what?" But she just rolls her eyes at me, like I'm a moron. It's tradition, and she and Mom have done this for 16 years now. Dad always asks, "must Zamboni stand RIGHT THERE???" as he steps over her to put the extra food in little contaners for the refridgerator, rinse off dishes, put dishes in the dishwasher, and all that. Zamboni and Mom just look at him like he's a moron too: "Yes."

And that's that. Tradition.

Tradition is very important in my family. You don't ever mess with tradition. Mom and Boni are serious about tradition. And if you really want to get your head knocked around a bit, just go ahead and try to mess around with Grandma's traditions. She's little, but Grandma will make you regret ever asking to change things one iota. Seriously.

So, all the dishes were clean; all the food put away, and then, the best part of the night -- our dinner. Now, it wasn't served on the fine china, which always bugs me a little. We just ate off the everyday stoneware, which, ok, is better than our usual bowls. And I admit, my bowls that Mom bought at a pottery sale, are much nicer than any "dog bowls" that I've ever seen at pet stores or online. But still, the china is very nice. It even has platinum ring around the outside. I think it would be very fine to eat off of it just once. But I've never asked. It seems a bit presumptuous, you know?

Zamboni says she has eaten off of china once or twice and the food tastes exactly the same. I shouldn't make a fuss over it, but just enjoy the food. But still, it seems a little disrespectful to me that on holidays, our humans don't let us eat off "the good stuff."

So this year, Mom cooked up turkey just for us. She cooked it in a pan with a bit of olive oil, some herbs, and some spices. We didn't get the grilled turkey -- she said it might be too fatty for Meri, who is still a puppy. Then she mixed in sweet potato, which we love, and she piled the mixture high on our plates. For Meri, she mixed this into her kibble.

It was warm, it was hearty, it was perfectly Thanksgiving food. It was delicious. Then Mom gave us each one bite of pumpkin pie. Our neighbor who is very nice, Mr. G, brought it over early in the day (I barked hello, then went back to watching the Hound Group on TV.). Mrs. G had made it for us. Zamboni got a regular bite. Since I can't eat crust, I got just the filling, which Boni says is the best part anyhow. Meri got a small taste. And finally, Mom brought out the can of whipped cream, held it upside down, and squirted a bit of it into the air above Boni's mouth. Zamboni is an expert at Canned Whip Cream, and she caught it with her tongue, kept her head back, and Mom squirted a bit more.

Then it was my turn. Mom squirted the whipped cream. I sort of caught it with my tongue, but missed some; it landed on the floor. I'm not allowed to eat off the floor, so Mom just squirted a bit on her finger, and I licked that. Mom wiped the floor, and that was that. Pumpkin pie with whipped cream. The best!

By then, we were so ready for naps! After LONG naps, we played for a while, then we went to bed early.

So, you can see why I didn't have time to diary yesterday. I had a wonderful day, filled with my wonderful family and amazing food.

I was also busy being Thankful. I am very lucky. I know that. I have a great family, including my family down in California. I have trainers who really like me and take good care of me. I have Doctor, Dr. B and Dr. H and all of their staff, whom Mom trusts with my life, so I do too. I have friends, and I have you, my readers.

I could not ask for anything more.

Thank you.

Your friend,

Campeche

Say Cheese

I love cheese. It's my favorite. When I think about cheese, it makes me smile. I love yellow cheese most of all -- that's the stuff that comes in squares. That's what we call it, yellow cheese. Dad says it's American cheese, but that's silly. All my cheese is here in America with me. My cheese is yellow cheese.

Mom says when I smile, I get a cheesy grin. I like when she says that.

So today, Dad told me that I would have to say cheese a lot. We were getting our picture taken for our family Christmas card.

Christmas? I know! That's what I said. That's like forever from now. But Mom wants to get things done now; when she does, she tells Dad, and we do things just like Mom wants.

So, that was the plan. Cheese and pictures. Unfortunately, we have a crazy Mer-Dog that has no idea how to get her picture taken. Mer-Dog, that's what I call her these days. She's kind of like the Meir Cats on TV, who are bouncing all over the place, except, well she's not on TV. She's here, and she's usually bouncing on Boni and me.

So, Mom and Dad set up our agility table and put a nice blanket over it. Mom laid a nice rug in front. It looked very pretty. Then we simply had to arrange ourselves. Boni and Mer-Dog on the table, me lying regally in front of it. Sounds great, right?

Mer-Dog was a bouncing wild crazy fool. Mom had some tiny Christmas trees -- for ambiance, you know. Mer stole one of those and started to run around with it. Then she jumped up on the table and landed on the other Christmas tree. She made me very nervous jumping and bouncing BEHIND me as I was lying regally, so I decided I better stand up. And Zamboni barked at all of us to sit down and stop messing up the family picture. She also took a swipe at Meri to show that she was serious. So Meri zoomed around the yard for about five minutes just to prove to Zamboni that Boni isn't the boss of her.

Mom IS the boss of Meri, but Mom was taking the pictures. Dad was supposed to be the Beagle Wrangler, but poor Dad, he seemed a little overwhelmed. He would call "Meri, Come" and Meri would run to him, take the Come snack, then zip off before Dad could put her back on the table.

It was chaos.

Behind the camera, Mom (I think) was snickering. That is pretty amazing because Mom never laughs when we're disobedient to HER. But she seemed to think all of this was pretty amusing. Zamboni, however, was still not amused. So she kept barking. I went and stood next to Mom. I was getting a headache.

Finally, Mom handed Dad the camera and asked him to take the pictures. Then she got busy. She called me back to the rug and asked me to lie down. Then she told Zamboni to sit down and be quiet. Then, in no uncertain terms, she called Meri to her. She took the Christmas tree away from Meri and told Meri to get on the table.

Meri, who is no fool, hopped on the table and waited for her next command. Mom positioned Zamboni, then Meri, and told Meri to sit.

She told all of us very firmly WAIT.

Then she walked and stood behind Dad. Of course, our eyes never left her. I don't want to say we're afraid of Mom. But when Mom is firm, we watch her to make sure we don't miss a command, just in case.

And Dad snapped pictures. A whole bunch of them. Then Mom walked back to us, gave us some snacks, repositioned us, told us to WAIT (firmly) again, walked back to Dad, and he took a bunch more photos. We did this a bunch of times. He changed rolls of film. And we did it some more.

Then Mom walked up to us, told us that we are Good Guy and Good Girls, gave us big snacks, and jumped up and said RELEASE! which meant that I could tackle Meri and wrestle her to the ground, which I did.

Later on, we all went into the house to take naps. Meri went into her boardroom, and I was hanging out in the living room. Boni was under the table, sleeping, as usual. Mom called me in to the kitchen and whispered, "Here, Camp. Don't tell the Girls."

And you know what it was? A big piece of Yellow Cheese! During all those pictures, I didn't get to say cheese once.

But I got my yellow cheese anyhow!

Now, we just have to wait to see if the pictures are any good. If not, we have to do the whole thing all over again. I guess that's fine, although I'll get another headache, as long as I get my cheese!

Taxation without Representation!

As you know, I'm not a political dog. But as you also know, I have a lot of canine friends and family in California, and this worries me:

Sacramento, California (Nov 20th, 2008)

The California Veterinary Medical Association (CVMA) has announced a statewide campaign opposing Governor Schwarzenegger's proposed tax on veterinary services, fearing increased pet abandonment and euthanasia.

The current proposal to tax veterinary medical care is contained in the administration's "Governor's Budget: Special Session 2008-09" document. The proposal recommends that on February 1, 2009, the sales and use tax be broadened to include services, such as "appliance and furniture repair, vehicle repair, golf, and veterinarian services." The CVMA is asking its membership of more than 6,000 veterinarians to write letters to the governor noting the hardship this proposed sales tax of approximately 9 percent would have on consumers; the potential adverse impact on already overcrowded pet shelters; and the unintended consequence of increases in food prices at the supermarket due to taxes on care for food production animals.

"Subjecting complicated veterinary medical procedures and treatments to taxation would be the same as taxing health care for children in California," said William Grant, II, DVM, president of the CVMA. "What will happen to the sick or injured pets of people already struggling with potential home foreclosures and job losses? How much more heartbreak is it fair to ask of our fellow citizens?"

Even though the proposal does not require the taxation of the drugs and medicines used in veterinary services, treatments and surgical services would be taxed. Thus, a Parvo vaccine would not be taxed, but a spay or neuter procedure would be. The CVMA is concerned about the impact on California's shelter populations. Shelters already care for more than 800,000 cats and dogs and euthanize about 400,000 every year at an annual cost to taxpayers of $275 million. Taxing care beyond affordability will only increase shelter populations past capacity, resulting in even more deaths.

http://www.petpeoplesplace.com/resources/news/view.php?i d=210


This is TAXATION of California's pets without representation!

You (and your humans) can contact/email Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger to let him know your concerns at
http://gov.ca.gov/interact#contact

Outstanding, Fine Athlete

So, I got a surprise today. Mom woke me up really early, and we went to my vet's office. And she left me there. She just handed over the leash to one of my favorite staff people and said, "Ok, Camp. I'll be back."

I hate when she does that.

Dr. H. explained that I was going to get some pictures taken for O.F.A. I figured that meant that I was an Outstanding Fine Athlete. I worried that Mom had not brushed my fur for these photos. But at least, I have a nice shiny smile!

So I waited patiently in my kennel in the vet's office. I was in the back room, where all the interesting stuff happens. Ok, it's "interesting"" if it happens to other dogs. It's fascinating if it happens to cats. When they do that stuff on me, though, it's terrible. But they weren't doing any of that stuff on me. I had front-row view and I watched all of the procedures. And when one of my friends on the staff saw me watching, they would say "Hey Camper!" So that was great.

Then, it was my turn. The staff and Dr. H put on the thick coats that means it's picture time. They asked me to lie on the table that is *always* cold. There wasn't any nice artistic swirly background for the photo to enhance my obvious good looks, though. But maybe they wanted me to look like a rugged athlete in my photos.

So, they took pictures of my fore legs, which are very muscular, of course. Then I had to lie down on my back so they could take photos of my iron-strong legs. Dr. H wanted to stretch my legs out, but I thought that I look more like an athlete when my leg muscles are flexed, so I tensed them up. So she and the staff had to rub my legs and my tummy (that was nice!) to get me to relax. Then, they'd pull my legs again, but I still wanted to flex my leg muscles for maximum rippling-muscles effect.

After a while, I realized that they didn't want a photo of my rippling muscles but of my sinewy strong runner's body. So I relaxed and let them pull my legs out for the photo they wanted.

I wonder if that photo will show up in Runners World magazine?

Then, a staff member that I don't know (she's new. I hate when they spring new staffers on me) told me that Mom was waiting for me. I was so excited, I was ready to barrel down the hallway to the lobby to get to her. But the new staffer wasn't to be trifled with. She made me sit and wait nicely before she would let me leave the back room. She seemed rather arrogant for a new girl, I thought.

Finally, we walked into the lobby and I was ready to hug Mom, but she made me lie down until I settled down (there's that stupid Settle Down again). While I was lying there, Mom looked at my pictures with Dr. H by holding them up to the window. They didn't look anything like me.

In fact, they kind of look like Boni's bony, knobby , skinny shaved leg. But Mom and Dr. H. were happy and said they looked good. Dr. H said we would send them to a radio-just to look at them, which makes no sense. We have a radio in the car and one at home. Why send them to another radio-just because it's somewhere else? And why do my pictures need to listen to music or NPR anyhow?

Then, Dr. H said that Mom can pick up my pictures and send them to OFA Foundation.

A whole Foundation of Athletes. Just like me.

I wonder if they have conventions? That would be fun, wouldn't it? We could sit around, swap stories about soccer, swimming, agility, and share some laughs about getting our OFA pictures taken.

The rest of today.

Zamboni came home. She is fine. She said she had a great time at the Car Vet. She got to go into the place where they sell the cars and meet everyone, and they were all very nice to her. She saw a sports car that she said she would look very good in, ears flapping in the breeze. A black sports car that the whole top came off, not just a window in the roof, like our car.

Then we had a laugh about how Mom would get cranky driving around in that car when it rained. Maybe I could drive Zamboni around, instead of Mom? That would be cool. I have to Google how to do that. We would look so excellent in a black sports car, since we're both black dogs and everything. It's nice when your car matches your fur. That's why Mom's car is black -- to match us.

Anyhow, then Boni went to the vet and saw Dr. H. who said that she thought Zamboni was ok. But she shaved Boni's right front paw leg just to make sure. Sure enough, nothing there. But Boni sure does have some skinny bony legs. She is fluffy, and I don't think I realized how thick her fur is. She's pretty skinny underneath. It's pretty funny. She says she's not amused.

The good news though is that the lumpy foot thing is almost all gone and it didn't go anywhere. It just POOF! Disappeared. So that's good news. Unless, maybe, I caught it somehow. Do you think that's possible? Because I don't want to be lumpy. I'm not vain (although I hear that I'm a very attractive dog), but I don't want to be lumpy. Mostly, I don't want it because it made it hard for Boni to run and hike. So I hope Boni didn't just leave it on the ground somewhere for me to step on. I mean, I hate it when I accidentally step in my own poop. I get so grossed out, I just stop, and Mom has to come over and wipe off my foot. If I step in someone else's poop -- even if it's Meri's or Boni's -- I just want to die. So stepping on a lumpy thing is just something I do not want to do.

But she said she doesn't remember doing that. Boni's kind of getting up there, and sometimes, she forgets stuff though. So I can't tell.

Anyhow, so that's good news about Zamboni. I asked her why she is licking her leg so much. She said it's because it hurts sometimes. And Dr. H said that could be because she has a bit of arthritis there, on her wrist. I'm sure that Mom will have a fix for that.

Tonight, Mom made pork chops for dinner, with delicious olive oil, cinnamon, cloves and garlic. And she served them with pumpkin and apple sauce. This is one of my favorite meals. During the summer, Mom doesn't cook for me as much, but when it gets cold and wet, she cooks more. All the stuff Mom put on the pork chops and served with them is good for arthritis, it turns out (I Googled it). So even though today was a Nasty Boring November Day, we got a delectable meal that made it almost worth it.

In fact, I'm pretty full. So I'm going to take a nap now. I might as well. Meri is napping. I don't have anyone to beat up -- I mean "wrestle with" -- right now anyhow.

A Wet November Day

Hey.

It's pretty boring here. Zamboni and Mom are gone. They went to pick up our car at the Car Vet because it was broken. The window in the roof was broken, and it's raining out. That is definitely not good. If you ever want to hear Mom say some words that she doesn't allow us to ever say, stand around when the car window in the roof doesn't close and it's pouring rain out. I thought it was kind of cool. I could sit in the car, travel to where we needed to go, and still get a nice misty rain on my head.

Mom, however, does not have the same appreciation for life's options that I do. She called up the Car Vet and brought in our car the same day. No sense of adventure, our Mom. None.

So I wanted to go with Mom, but Boni has to go our vet. Mom said they would pick up the car and go straight to the vet. She has something going on with her leg. I asked her about it, and she says it bugs her. It's the same leg that has the lumpy thing in her foot, except when I looked for the lumpy thing in her foot, it was gone. I thought that was great, you know? I mean, that lumpy thing has bugged Zamboni almost the entire time I've known her. But Mom is worried that the lumpy thing moved. But Boni's leg doesn't look lumpy. I don't know. This vet stuff is way too complicated for me.

So I'm home. Meri is in her Boardroom sleeping. She was Fixed last week. Did I tell you that? Yup, I didn't know she was broken either (like I didn't know that I was broken at the time that I got Fixed). But Meri is now Fixed, just like me (and Boni too...except it looks like Boni has to go to the vet today, so maybe she's broken again?). So Mom says she has to sleep extra for now. Meri says she's FINE. But you know Mom. She doesn't care what we think.

Dad is home. But he's doing work stuff. He's on vacation, but doing work stuff. I know. I don't get it either. Humans are so weird.

It's raining really hard, so Dad won't let me go outside. He says I'll get super muddy. Actually, I won't. I only get "super" muddy when Meri and I go out together, because we wrestle around on the ground. When I'm by myself, I just get wet and a little bit dirty. Ok, my feet get muddy. But I can't help that: our grass is all torn up. We used to have a nice grassy back yard, but the grass isn't so nice anymore. As a matter of fact, it's gotten a lot worse since we got Meri. It must be her fault. I wonder what she does to the grass when I'm not paying attention?

So, that's what I'm doing today. I'm just kind of bored. I hope Boni is ok at the vet. The nice thing about going to the vet is you get a lot of delicious snacks, and it's always great to visit all of our friends. I know they always appreciate it when I stop by to say "hi." I wish I got to go instead of Zamboni. I wonder if she's seeing Dr. B or Dr. H today? I really like them both. And the staff is always so friendly to me. They always say "Hulllooo Camper!"

Maybe she'll tell everyone there that I said Hi.

I guess I'll take a nap until she gets home and tells me all about it. Sigh. There isn't much else to do in this boring old house anyhow.

Staying At Home Vacation

Dad is on Vacation. But we're not going anywhere. Our last vacation was to the Washington Coast during the summer, which I never told you about because I have been so busy. It was a great vacation. We took the motorden.

We went into the ocean again, and everything. It was blissful, well, nearly so. Let me just say that three dogs -- when one of them is a tiny three month old puppy that Zamboni didn't like very much -- is a bit much in our very small motorden for a whole week.

Remember when Mom said last year that our motorden was small? Remember that Boni and I thought she was crazy, because it seemed perfectly perfect to us? Well, Mom (once again) was right. After about four days with a crazy puppy, it's small. After six days, it's tiny. Meri had her boardroom, which I guess made it better, except we had even less room on the floor.

I got to sleep on my bench at the table, which made it better. But Boni didn't like me sleeping ABOVE her all the time, because Zamboni, as you know, is the Beagle Queen, so after five days, she growled UP at me a couple of times. Of course, Mom and Dad didn't hear that. They just heard me getting snarly whiny back DOWN at Boni. And I got in trouble, of course, because that is how my difficult life always goes.

Meanwhile, Meri bugged both of us, just because she was there, demanding attention the way only puppies can. But she didn't need to. I mean, I was never like that. I can't believe how hoggy some puppies can be, you know?

Most of the time, we were outside, playing on the beach and taking long walks, which was great. Mom took me for super long walks, up to the highway, and I loved watching the blazing fast cars. I wish I could zoom that fast, although I'm almost that speedy! Then we would walk back to camp and I'd be tired and happy because I got special Camper Time.

The beach was the best part. When I went in to the ocean The First Time Ever, I was kind of surprised how the water moved back and forth and didn't stay in the same place, like at my pool. But this time, I was ready for that. So I played in the surf with Dad, or sometimes, Mom and had a great time. They would throw my Orange Cuz (my favorite!) into the waves, and I'd swim out after it. It was great.

What amazed me was Meri. She was tiny, but she's fearless. The first time we went into the water, Mom went in and I followed her, followed by Zamboni, the San Diego Surf Beagle Girl, who of course, loves the ocean. Meri followed Zamboni. When the water got too high, Meri just started to swim. When waves washed into her face, she just swam faster.

Dad was right there, ready to pick her up out of the water, but Meri swam furiously like a tuna. She didn't need anyone to help her. All we could see was her white head and brown flapping ears. Those big ears must be like water wings, spreading out, diffusing the water, and helping her float, because I've never seen a dog swim like that. It was crazy.

After a while, Mom said Meri had swam enough, so they went on the sand and played with Meri's tiny red Cuz. And that tiny beagle zoomed and chased and pounced. Not only that, but Zamboni zoomed and chased Meri and pounced on her too.

So going to the beach was phenomenal, except the fact that we got back to the motorden really tired. And cranky because we were hungry. And after we ate, Mom said we had to Settle Down (I hate Settle Down). But we were too excited. Plus we were still cranky even though we had eaten, because we were tired -- all at the same time. So we picked fights with each other. Zamboni would smack Meri, who would bite my tail, so I would get push Boni around.

This did not make Mom happy. Or Dad either. So he put Zamboni on the big Mom&Dad bed (which is a nice bed, and I would have loved to lie up there). Then Mom said "Camper. Bed. Now!" which meant I had to go on my bench. And "Meri. Boardroom." And Mom tossed a snack in there because Meri didn't know yet what Boardroom means, much less that you better go into your crate FAST. I would have liked a snack to get on my bench, but I didn't get that either.

That's what we did on our last vacation. About a month ago, Dad said he wanted to take vacation, and he said, "what if we go to your Mom's for Thanksgiving?" Zamboni sat up immediately and whispered to me, "that means GRANDMA'S house!" and she was very excited because there is only one thing that she loves more than Thanksgiving day with its delicious sweet potatoes and turkey and that's Grandma and Grandpa. And, Zamboni said, Grandma is an excellent cook...and far more generous than Mom with human food. It's a dog dream come true!

But Mom said immediately said "no." She said that she wants to wait until Meri is older and better trained before we take another long vacation. If we drive to Grandma's over the holidays, it would be at least a 7 - 10 day trip. Even though Meri has taken Puppy Class and is taking Basic Obedience, she's still kind of squirrelly. That's the word Mom used, squirrelly. It would be like having a rabid squirrel in the motorden. (Ok, Mom didn't say any of that last part, including the word "rabid." But I'm sure that's what she meant.)

We both glared at Meri, who was chewing on a Texas Toothpick and didn't have a clue what was going on. But Mom looked at us and said, "It's too bad that Camper and Boni were such maniacs on our last trip. They're adult and extremely well trained. They certainly know better."

Dad is on vacation. At home. Apparently, it's Boni's and my fault, and not the rabid squirrel's.

I have no idea how that happened.

Make It Quick Camper

That's what Mom said, "Make it Quick, Camper."

Meri and Mom are going to class tonight, and I thought it would be nice to spend the evening surfing the Net. But no. Mom turns off the computer AND she unplugs the internet, so I can't go online. One time, she caught me in the computer room when she got home. I'm not supposed to be in here unless Mom or Dad is in here. I pretended like I was asleep, but Mom figured it out. I was surfing the Net. I was online at ActiveDogs and trying to figure out how to order stuff. They have cool stuff there, that's for sure. But Mom thinks I have to earn cool stuff. Nothing in Life is Free, Camper.

Yeah, don't I know it.

Except classes. I get dragged to classes whether I earn those or not.

Meri is going to obedience class, and that's good. She's not very obedient. She used to be a good puppy and would follow my orders. And Mom's commands too. But then she turned 5 months old, and she thinks she's cool. Mom tells her, "Meri, Come!" and Meri thinks she doesn't have to come.

This is dumb on two counts. First, when Mom tells us to Come, there is often a delicious snack, an ear rub, and a Good Guy! (or Good Girl!) or even all three, when we arrive. Second, if we don't come, Mom just marches out and GRABS us (rather unceremoniously, I might add). And when she does that, there is no snack, no ear rub, no Good Girl! And you're busted. You don't want Mom to be cranky with you. But she is.

So, I've learned, when Mom says "Camper, Come!" I come. When Mom says "Boni, Come!" I come. When Mom says "Meri, Come!" I come. Especially when Mom says "Meri, Come!" because Mom has been handing out a lot more snacks since Meri arrived.

But Meri, she would rather sniff sniff sniff (she IS a beagle) than come to Mom. So I get Meri's snack. And Meri gets grabbed unceremoniously. And it's even worse for Meri because she's still small enough to be picked up and carried. So humiliating.

She doesn't care. She says she got extra sniffs in, and that's all she cares about.

Kids. You just can't teach them anything. You know?

So that's why Meri is going to class tonight. To make her obedient.

Although, I took that class, and many like it, and I'm well....sort of....kind of... maybe a LITTLE obedient. I mean, when I WANT to be. So I kind of wonder why Mom wastes her time trying to train us to be obedient. We're kind of rogue dogs, you know?

Oh geebers, speaking of time. Mom said Make it Quick. I better get off the computer. Or she'll take me off the computer

Unceremoniously.