Two months ago we made a half assed effort to test the dogs in the travel trailer.  We only went 15 minutes from home, took two cars and I brought the dogs home to take a nap midday, we had full hookups…  Overall, it was ok, Brick hated outside but we were content to leave him watching cartoons inside while we threw sticks in the campfire.  Maybe, always a saint, can, will and does roll with anything. But realistically, it wasn’t a true test of their instincts to survive in nature.

This trip we went more than an hour from home to New Brighton State Beach Campground. (we could just make out the sounds of the ocean, but didn’t see it, didn’t smell it, no sandy bottoms (and I’m not entirely certain those “waves” weren’t just big trucks on the interstate)) At the last minute I decided to forgo taking separate cars, as originally planned; I’d planned to be prepared for Brick’s inevitable “too muchness,” I could bring him home and the party could continue undisturbed. (I know, a party without me? As if!) Admittedly, I bit my nails the whole outbound journey.  Neither dog had ever been in the big truck, never been chased by a trailer, never been on a ride that long. Yes, I worry, it’s my schtick. But being side by side, surrounded with favorite blankets and me raining candy down from the front seat, they behaved like we were going on a quick jaunt across town; Maybe quakes head to toe, Brick mostly enjoys – he likes the scenes and smells – so long as he’s not expected to ever get out. Ever.

We arrived. Parked. Snacked.  I left the dogs inside the first hour or so to give them time to condition to “oh shit, we’re staying here?” Once bf got himself leveled and outside accessories unpacked and set up, I brought them out to potty.  Maybe, always a perfectly adaptable angel, emptied.  Brick tucked tail and cried. Bf booked a group campsite so we had so much room for activities!  I put Brick inside and took Maybe for a couple small laps to explore and keep her arthritis infested legs limber. Another couple hours passed, Brick realized there were no cartoons this time so he agreed to join us outside, but only if his portable crate was available – he likes to be in there where nothing can see him or “”get”” him. Works for all of us so I was more than happy to oblige.

One complaint about the ginormous site; the fire pit.  Logically they placed it smack in the center, in daylight, easily spotted in the distance.  From the fire, in the blackness of night, we could not see the camper.  In the interest of peace, convenience and safety, I left the dogs inside while we fired up a campfire friendly cobbler. When we were done with our kumbaya and headed back home… we were greeted by a skunk digging in our camp side trash can.  I dunno… I assume, because we were far from home, this skunk had a different diet, no recent sprays, the dogs did not ‘nose’ he was there (thank god!) but had they tuned in, the trip would have taken a drastically different turn!

Our first night ending, I chased the skunk to oblivion,  took the dogs out to potty. Maybe, my little old faithful, did as requested.  Brick resisted – which is his normal.  During his hospital stay he went 2 days without a proper potty so I really don’t worry about it, I know when he’s ready, he’ll go.  Got back inside. Organized dog beds and blankets so they’d be content to sleep on the floor. Took my shoes and layers of clothing off. Down to pj’s and socks..  Brick paced.  He whined.  He sat at the door, ears low, eyes wide, my sweet little boy “uhm, Mom? I think I gotta potty.” Put layers and shoes back on, strap on a headlamp and make the trek outside. Good god, did he go!  But, better now than 2am.

Because we didn’t have hook ups, Bf reminded me to turn stuff off to save our reserves.  I did tell him that I would sacrifice my showers to make sure there was enough clean water for the dogs but he said that was absolutely not necessary! I did catch him pouring a big jug of water into the tank early on day two…  so I humored him and went into the bathroom and let the water run for a while.

Maybe wanted to explore, and she’d been so good, I did take her for a wander to the empty group site next to us.  It was just as big, but freakishly clean. Sure, some people pack rakes or blowers to make their site tidy, clear things that could rupture an air mattress. But there were no leaves.  No pokey buttons from the eucalyptus. No lost toys or crayons. No painted rocks.  Our six picnic tables scattered with no rhyme or reason; this one had them lined up like a reception hall. As we explored, I looked for anything out of place, and spotted a couple thin pieces of bark intentionally twisted together and chuckled as my brain flashed to “Blair Witch” because the difference from ours to the vacant site was almost spooky.

Day three we debated on whether we should stay another night or head home. The pros and cons were pretty even, but I finally reasoned – everything had gone well, let’s not test our luck, we’ll have an extra day for laundry and junk…  So we set to packing and cleaning to depart.

I’d been leaving full poop bags on a log because – really – I simply cannot control my headlight.  I need both hands to fumble dogs and pick up… to walk them over to the dumpster too, in blackness, I hear a noise and swivel, that light is going to blast every tent, camper, those rigs on the interstate. No, I accept my lack of coordination and just let the full bags pile until daylight. I gathered them all and tossed them in, as the lid dropped, I see a flash of something grey.  I dismissed it as one of the bags must’ve bounced off something inside but then Bf, on his return from a can dump, says there’s a squirrel in the dumpster.

No, I can’t ignore that.  I find a long, somewhat weak branchy stick, and push it into the dumpster, but I won’t get close enough to hold the lid up, and I can’t find anything nearby that is going to work.  While I’m staring at the ground, circling, I hear a truck and look up to see a ranger approaching. Ah, the cavalry has arrived!  I approach the driver’s window and see two rangers in full gear, bulletproof vests, guns…  did not know that was a thing, but asked for a broom handle or something to open the dumpster, explaining, I don’t want rabies or the plague or anything squirrel related.  The driver smirks and tells me they have something ‘pressing’ but he’ll take care of it.  Even better!

We finish loading up and depart. As we pass the neighboring campsite we see the two rangers there, pulling off rubber gloves.  Bf says “must be a crime scene.”  We continue down the road and I’m thinking “Maybe’s DNA is all over that site! Hope she didn’t saturate any of their evidence!”

CSI: according to the urine analysis, suspect is menopausal with the metabolism of a sixty-eight year old woman who may have osteoporosis. (Seinfeld 7:15)