Oregon or Bust

Woof, woof.  Me and Mom are on the road again!

We are on our way to Cape Perpetua.  I can't wait to go to the beach.

Mom has a J-O-B. She says that's a good thing. I'll reserve judgement.

The trip is going great. I love rest areas. The smells are heavenly.  Talk about diversity!

Yesterday Arlo, the Giddy Gat, rode in his carrier. This morning he hid behind the couch before Mom could catch him. He says he likes riding behind the couch but I think he just won't admit he'd rather be in the carrier.

I'll check in with everyone when we get settled.

Your friend,
Pearl

Living In An RV Park

The last time I wrote I promised to tell you about life in an RV park. Here goes.

Mom and me and the Little Bastard (Arlo) have been living at the Casa Grande RV Resort in Casa Grande, Arizona. We live in a Class C motorhome. Mom says that not all RVs and not all RV parks are the same even though they all look the same to me. But all RV parks have rules. And not all of the rules make sense.

For instance, any time I’m outside, I have to be on my leash. That really cramps my style. Mom says that some parks don’t allow dogs at all or have certain areas that are off limits to dogs. Can you believe that? It is incredible that we still suffer that kind of discrimination in the 21^st century in the United States. Also, there is some weird obsession with poop. There is a rule that Mom has to pick up my poop. If she doesn’t we could get kicked out. That seems a little harsh to me. There are even signs up that ask us to report people who don’t pick up poop. People seem to enjoy rules – why else would they have so many? Mom does like the free poop bags and she gets annoyed when the dispenser is empty. She says there ought to be a rule.

Most of you know that I don’t really like to have other dogs in my space. Except for Ruger. He’s OK because he recognizes that I’m in charge. So in my opinion, the biggest con about living in an RV park is all the other dogs. I get that people like to have us around. I’m actually suspicious of people who don’t have a dog with them or at least a little dog smell on their clothes. You can’t ask for a more loyal friend and most of us are good travelers so I’m not surprised by all the dogs. It’s just a big adjustment for me. I’m 14 and I don’t like adjusting. There is a Sheltie here named Miley. We get along OK. There are a lot of little dogs. I get in trouble for barking at them even if they bark first. Some of these dogs pee in my area. That has meant a lot of extra peeing for me. I know you know what I mean.

Not all the dogs here are little. There are some big dogs including a couple of air head Golden Retrievers. They think life is just one tail wagging, tongue lapping lark. Neither of them have done a serious days work in their lives. Then there’s a dog called a Mastiff. I don’t know what that means but she is one big dog. Even though Mom doesn’t think so, I do know that I’m short and being next to the Mastiff really drives home the point. Down the street from us is a dog called a “Dorky.”  Mom is embarrassing when she sees him. He is a Yorkie, Dachshund mix. I say big deal. There’s a puppy here named Amigo. I’d kind of like to play with him but he’s so wiggly and squirmy. And cute. Yuck.

Much to my surprise a lot of people have cats in their RVs. You know that Mom insists on keeping Arlo with us and I’ve always kind of thought that he’s embarrassing. But unlike me, he has to stay inside. I’m not sure why except I think Mom is worried that he wouldn’t find his way home. He’s about as smart as a piece of rawhide. Here’s the shocking part. Some of the RV cats wear harnesses and are walked around the park! One of them even gets pushed around in a stroller. 

There is a homeless kitten here that Mom has been feeding but she can’t catch it. She says she wants to get it fixed and find it a home. Arlo and I have both told it that’s what Mom has in mind in gory detail because there is no way that we are getting another cat. We have scared the kitten so much that he won’t let Mom get close to it. And she’s still feeding it! What a trout!

As far as what this place is like, there are some trees and some pretty plants. Unfortunately the plants are up high so I can’t pee on them. That’s pretty much the only dirt. There is row after row after row of RVs, fifth wheels and trailers that all have big tires. The streets are all paved and every place else is gravel. I don’t like to walk on gravel. The asphalt makes my feet dirty but that bothers Mom a lot more than it bothers me. There is a grassy pet area which I assume is nice. But since I have this little control freak issue, I don’t get to go there.

This place is full of comedians. Mom and I have heard every short joke known to man. Mom smiles at everybody and says ha, ha. It makes me mad because people don’t understand that my form fits my job herding cattle. OK, I’ve never herded a cow. I have smelled them and I think I would like to herd them. Or at least eat their poop. Anyway, I guess it stands to reason that when most of the people have nothing to do but wash their RVs and keep track of what everyone else is doing that you are going to meet some jokesters.

Mom likes this place because it has a nice swimming pool. I love to swim and on these hot days I’d really like to take a dip in the pool but I have noticed that there are “no pet” signs there. However, there is an exception for service dogs. Hello? Herding dog. Companion. Chief of RV Security. I think I qualify but Mom never takes me.

Well, that’s pretty much what life in the RV park is like. It’s not bad, I guess. I’d like to get to come and go as I please and poop without Mom standing there with her bags but it’s entertaining to watch the dogs and the kitten and people. And Mom and me are together. That’s huge.

Oh, remember all those comedians with their short jokes? My favorite thing is to stop in the middle of the street when I see them coming in their cars and pee. Sometimes I pretend to pee even if I don’t have to. Now that’s funny.

So, take care and bow wow.

Your friend,

Pearl

Ruger, You Forgot Your Kitty!

The past month or so has been very trying. 

First, Kyle comes home.  That’s OK because I really like Kyle.  I have faint tickles of puppyhood memories every time I smell him.  He picked me up in Colorado and brought me to Alaska.  At least that’s the story.  I just remember his smell which I think is awesome.  But he brought a dog home with him.  I had heard he had a dog but I didn’t believe it.  This dog’s name is Ruger.  He’s young and he pretty much does what I tell him to and that is by far his most attractive quality.  He’s actually useful in the yard when it comes to chasing rodents because he is faster than me.  But he has a really short attention span.  Me, I can bark at a rodent in a tree for hours.  Ruger almost never barks and if the squirrel doesn’t come down in a couple of minutes he’s off doing something else.  Sheesh.

One great thing about Ruger is that it is easy and quite entertaining to get him into trouble.  All have I have to do is show him something stinky and he rolls in it.  Ha, ha.  Then he gets a bath.  Very funny.

I don’t like having Ruger in the house.  And I don’t like him to stand at the door waiting to get let in with me.  I go in first.  That’s just the way it is.  Fortunately, we have a front and back door so we split up.  I decided it was OK for him to be on the porch with me because I could explain things to him but not at the door.  Rules are rules.

As if bringing Ruger wasn’t bad enough, Kyle also brought Ruger’s cat.  His name is Arlo.  Mom thinks that’s a cool name because of some singer.  I say, who cares.  Arlo is just a year old and he doesn’t listen to a thing anyone says to him.  He plays with rubber bands for God’s sake.  Arlo is kind of fun to chase but I get yelled at when I do.  Am I just supposed to ignore his rude behavior?  We have rules around here.  Besides I’m not really chasing him.  I’m trying to herd him.  I’m told it’s impossible to herd cats but I don’t believe it.

Kyle was supposed to stay all summer.  Mom made it abundantly clear to me that I was going to have to not only tolerate Ruger and Arlo but be nice to them.  I’ll tell you, I saw nothing but misery ahead.  I had plans for the summer and none of them involved a black and white dog following me around.  Ruger is always happy and he always wants to play.  I have work to do – security rounds, maintaining my look out on the porch, guarding the chickens and ducks (that’s another story) – I’m a busy dog.  Oh, and that doesn’t include letting Mom pet me and sitting on her lap once in a while.

Then I got some wonderful news.  Kyle got a job in Seward.  I love Seward.  I was there when I was a puppy and swam in the ocean.  Do you know how many great stinky dead things there are on beaches?  Anyway, Kyle and Ruger and Arlo would be leaving.  Yes, siree, there is a God.  I couldn’t wait.  Suddenly, I didn’t mind Ruger leaving in the middle of a squirrel chase or jumping over me on the way to the chicken coop.  I didn’t mind if Arlo got me in trouble.  In fact, I just gave him dirty looks instead of chasing him.

I started getting really excited when Kyle started packing.  Ruger got nervous and anxious and that made me even happier.  I know how packing works.  Once the suitcases come out travel is eminent.  Ah, soon I would be alone with Mom and Lee.  The homestead would return to its normal patterns.  My afternoon nap would be undisturbed.  No more weird meowing sounds.  No more of Ruger’s ridiculous tail wagging.

 

Then the morning of Kyle’s departure arrived.  I could tell Mom was a little sad.  She took pictures of Kyle and Ruger and we sat on the porch and waved to them as they drove out of the yard.  I comforted Mom as best I could but inside I wanted to do my happy dance.

We went back into the house and right away I found a bunch of rawhide flip chips Ruger forgot to pack.  I’m sure me hiding them under the desk had nothing to do with why he forgot them.  I was just settling in for a good chew when I heard it.  I shook my head and figured I must have just imagined it.  But no, there it was again – a meow.  And then I saw him.  Arlo!

Mom, Mom, Mom, let me out, which she did because she is very compliant.  I ran down the driveway barking and crying out, Ruuugeeeer, you forgot your kitty.  But it was no good.  The dust had settled and they were already miles away.

Mom has promised me that it’s just for the summer.  I’m getting used to Arlo but really, he does such undignified things.  This morning he was in the window sill and he stretched and fell on the floor.  I kid you not.  And playing with rubber bands?  It doesn’t get much more stupid than that.  I mean, who cares?  I don’t even feel jealous of that.

What really hurts is that Kyle left Arlo here with Mom and Lee’s permission.  I was not consulted.  Obviously I must have dozed off during a critical discussion.  I will have to make sure this never happens again.  For the time being, I guess Arlo is pretty funny and he’s a sloppy eater meaning I get a few pieces of kitty kibble once in a while.   In the mean time, I will do as corgis have always done and persevere, making the most of even this horrible situation.  Excuse me now, I think I’ll go root around in the compost pile.

Until next time,

Bow Wow