Last weekend, T and I decided to pack up the pooches and make a hasty retreat to the family camp on an island nearby. It was nearing 30 degrees in Town, and as we packed the gear, grub and goodies for the dogs, all we could think about was the cool breezes and drastic drop in temperature that is a given at the camp. We have been experiencing a bit of a heatwave here lately, our first taste of summer, and all the heat and humidity really were draining, so we were looking forward to taking the dogs and getting away for an overnight adventure.
Bruce hadn't been in the boat since he was just a puppy, so we were a little excited to get him out and let him enjoy a cool ride in the boat, and to be able to run free on the island (I was hoping he would enjoy boats like Elvis did, and not take after his sister Duffy, who is scared to death the whole time she's on a boat). Bruce grew a little since the last time here was at the camp, eh?
Brucie is a seagoing boy! (Duffy was cowering by Tom's legs and the steering console)
Elvis would have been so proud!
Anyhow, it didn't turn out to be much of an escape form the heat ... it was 28 C on the island and I think it was 30 on the mainland! The poor dogs were so hot, and chasing the kite (see previous post) had them pretty worn out (who knew that kites are the arch nemisis of the Valley Bull? Apparently, it is an ancient feud, I had no clue!).
Bruce was so hot that he started sneaking to the water's edge and getting a drink from the ocean, despite my efforts to make sure he was only drinking from the fresh water that we had in bowls everywhere for them. T said he'd be fine, but I worried all day about him. Once the sun started to go down, it cooled off a bit, and he started to drink from the water dishes ... and drink... and drink ... and drink. He easily drank 3 gallons of water himself in the evening. You could tell he didn't feel well ... a little unsteady on his feet, no energy, and sort of a glazed look in his eyes. Then he started the vomitting ... he'd drink a bowl of water, and 10 minutes later, he's bring up a bunch of water. Then back to the dish to repeat the cycle. Poor boy! I was so worried ... but everytime he got sick, he seemed to get a little steadier on his feet. By bedtime he was back to rights. Duffy, his older, wiser sister, didn't partake in the salty slurpies, and was fine all evening. Ever since we left the island, we've referred to the weekend as "the day Bruce Drank all the water".
The dogs really enjoyed the fresh air and they raced around on the rocks, in and out of the camp , and had a ball following everyone around (T's parents came over for the afternoon with 4 friends and 2 of the friends young kids, aged 2 and 5 ... Bruce adopted the children as his own, and the little girl fell in love with Duffy -- our dogs have not been around kids much/ever, but they were so good with the little ones - I was very proud!). Everytime someone went for a walk or left the sitting area, Bruce would jump up and go with them (pretty cute).
I did manage to slip in some knitting, casting on when we arrived for a ribbed hat with some Noro I had in the stash
finished that evening beside the fire. The next morning I cast on a second one with another ball of Noro (finished it the other day) ... this is what Bruce did while I knit
Duff is also an afficianado of the picnic table
both of them like to get up on the tqables because they can see everything going on and because the entire beach is rocks, and walking on them hurts their toes (they spent a lot of time flaked out on the picnic table, enjoying the sun!)
It was an uneventful night ... I kicked T's butt at Cribbage -- I had 6 or 7 hands in one game that scored 16 or more! Really lucky night.
My inlaws came back over in the morning and cooked us breakfast (T didn't pack any breakfast foods), and stayed on for lunch later on, which we cooked. We headed back after lunch but just before we left, my MIL apinted a few new signs which my FIL hung up -- important stuff if you are a newcomer to the camp!
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3 years ago