A trip to camp with the dogs

The weather this week has been hazy, hot and humid so Ameranth and I decided to take the dogs out to camp for a swim. Rosie didn't go, and she was very upset about staying home with J. He said she sat looking out the window and howled mournfully- at least until he gave her a special treat and she was over it.

Rosie didn't go because she gets carsick, hates water and would run away. Anna was happy, until she realized Boomer was coming too, and Boomer was, as always, sooo excited to do anything, that he bounded into the car, sat on Anna's head and panted happily.

We drove out to Torsey Lake to the land that my parents bought in the '60s for our vacations, which is about a half hour north of us. My uncle owns the lot next door and he offered the use of his dock and beach, since the other dock wasn't in the water yet, and he has sand rather than mud. Anna had swum before and had her recent exposure to salt water, so she was more interested in investigating smells and running through the woods, but this was all new to Boomer.

Ameranth went in first and coaxed him out to her, and we threw sticks for him to fetch, because he would go through the fires of hell to fetch something, especially if he thinks Anna might want it.  After the first panicky thrashing when the ground disappeared:

He seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, at one point swimming out to a plastic jug tied out as a mooring 30 feet from shore. He came right back when called (after he realized it wasn't going to be fetchable).

He even found a treasure- a tennis ball, floating near the campfire area.

Anna found a 'treasure' too. That stump in the right above has been just offshore as along as I can remember and has several roots that stick out. I looked over at Anna to see her tiptoeing her way along one as if she were on a tightrope. Just as I was focusing for a picture, she leaned down and delicately picked up a sodden lump which clearly had a head at one end. Hilarity ensued as we chased her through the briars and we chased her through the brambles and we chased her through places a rabbit couldn't go. (extra credit if you know that song!)

It must not have tasted good (and how bad does that have to be if a dog doesn't like it?) because she dropped what turned out to be a drowned muskrat baby about 8 inches long. Now what to do with it? Scooping it up gingerly on a stick- I suggested two, like chopsticks, but Ameranth was doing it and felt one would work. And it did. We got it over to our side of camp and stashed it under an overturned wheelbarrow, since that was the only dog-safe place we could find.

My uncle came down to visit for a few minutes between tending the chicken he had cooking, and told us a funny story. He and his son had been standing right here on the beach when my cousin suddenly jumped back. Something had brushed by his ankle- it turned out to be the cutest little baby muskrat, they have their burrow right over there and it seemed lost.  Um, awkward.  We did explain that we had just seen (probably) the same small animal and it wasn't looking too good, but made it clear it was really most sincerely dead before Anna came along. He seemed to take it well.

We don't go out to camp much anymore because we live in Maine, and go to RI for vacations, but we used to bring the kids up every Memorial Day weekend when we lived in RI. This was in 1986.

Shoeshine, Ms M, J, Ameranth, and Sectaurs in front.

And I was lucky enough to find this picture taken in just about the same place.

That's #2 in the back, #3, my father, #5, #4 and numero uno (me) leaning soulfully against the tree. Judging by my short hair and glasses style I guess this was probably around 1968.

Lots of good times out there. #4 and her son run the joint now, and he is out there this weekend with friends, so I am sure the fun will continue for years to come.

(I did warn him via Facebook that we left a surprise under the wheelbarrow-good times indeed)