On The Road

We're on a trip... last minute decision to go after agonizing whether or not to for a month. This story will be uncharacteristically abbreviated, as the computer battery is running low and I left the chord out in the van.

The dogs and I travel quite a bit, as there's not much to do in our part of the world. We used to have a wonderful camper, but we sold it. Then I tried putting a bed and a portable toilet in our van. (More on that later, fear not!) Now this is the first trip trying hotels again. And I'm SURE it's the last.

We left our house at 3:30 in the afternoon, after finishing up the last orders, and mucking out the van, and filling the crates with lots of fresh blankets and chew bones. A rather tearful hug to Bill and Very Old Dog and the others who stayed home; I do detest having to travel without Bill and the Other Dogs. The older I get the more I hate it.

I loaded up the elated Mama Pajama, Sam I Am, Swede William, and Lindy Loo, and drove the eight blocks to dear Heather's house to kidnap Lindy Loo's litter brother, Emmett, as I am wont to do. As soon as I pulled away from the curb at our house it started to pour down rain. Again. We'd been having tornado watches all day. It was ninety degrees with thirty mph winds. Freaky for October.

I kidnapped Emmett and fell down the porch steps leaving Heather's house. Drat. Now I was sopping wet on my bottom. And that last cortisone injection in my shoulder and the two weeks of physical therapy? Undone. But I did not let go of Emmett's leash, good Human! I sat in a puddle in the downpour and contemplated if I were capable of getting up, decided I was, and off we went again.

Then it started to hail.

Eek, this computer battery is going to die. Fast forward: it's 1:15 AM. On the fifth attempt we find a hotel with a supposed non-smoking room, for only $80 plus tax. There is not one single blade of grass anywhere. There is a junk yard dog tied in the lot next to the hotel. (A not so Super 8.) The room smelled just horrid, and I thought maybe it was a smoking room.

Until the dogs found the whole clam, shell and all, behind the dresser. Someone had carry out steamers, and one apparently went overboard. And it was long enough ago to stink.

GROOOOSSSSSSSSS! Gross me out. Gross-o-mundo.

Now if the little dog in the next room would stop barking, I'll get to sleep and decide that this is all hysterically funny.

Six hours of driving down, ten more to go!

Later... I think I'm going to dream of the ocean.





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