Tuesday, June 28, 2011

-- And Mommy Makes Three...

Heading out early today with my mom and dad.  Destination Yosemite.  I’d like to share with you a problem I encountered and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it:  My mom was in my seat.  Guess I forgot to call shot gun.  They wouldn’t understand me even if I did call it.  A couple hours into the trip, my mom must have seen me pouting in the back of the Supervan, cuz she shared. 
I got to look out the window, but got bored and decided to sleep some more. 

When we got to Yosemite, I overheard my mom and dad talking about not having any reservations…  Seems we got lucky though, cuz there was a space available for one night.  I sat in the passenger seat, sticking my nose out the window while my dad was talking to the ranger, and-- SQUIRREL!!!  SQUIRREL!!!  Oh my heck!  They were all over the place.  Gotta get out of this Supervan, quick!!!  And wouldn’t you know?  My dad had the audacity to close the window!  Sheesh.

Which way did he go???  Huh? Huh?  Which way? 

Our campsite was decent.  A lot of tent-campers with noisy children.  And the rangers told my dad that I wasn’t allowed on any trails... 

Are you kidding me?  Seriously???  How the heck can I find squirrels if I am restricted the boundary of my campsite?  When I got out of the Supervan, I sniffed every inch of the campsite and I could tell that squirrels had violated my space before I arrived.  When my dad tied me to the picnic table, I took watch. 

I heard my mom whining about something having to do with bears.  I’ve never seen a bear before, and my mom was pretty askaird.  There was this sign on a metal box by my lookout station at the picnic table.  Now I can’t read, okay, but even I noticed the typo on this sign…  I’m gonna have to report this to the rangers.  It’s shameful.  They’re more interested in drawing a nice silhouette of a bear than spelling the words right.  Can you find the typo? 

After roasting hotdogs on the fire pit, my mom and dad ate them while I drooled.  Sometimes, I don’t get any respect.  By the time my mom finished her last bite, I developed fat slobber-strands and I looked more like a walrus than a dog.

One good thing about being on medication though-- she stuck my pill inside a piece of the hotdog and I ate it without spitting it out.  Oh, didn’t I tell you?  I’ve been on meds for a week now.  I had a hot spot last week on my neck from scratching and I had to wear the cone-of-shame. 

Ain't I pathetic?
Go ahead and laugh-- it’s okay.    ‘Karma’ is all I can say to you.

1 comment:

  1. Hi S.T. It's cousin Ruby.  Sheesh, I been tryin' for days to comment on your blog! Anyway, sounds like you're havin' fun on the road. I wish I could go camping and hunting for squirrels.  Bag one for me, eh buddy?

    I hope you lerned sumthing from dat sine sew da bears don't cum (eew) in 'you' vehicle lookin' for food.  Get it? Yeah my mom found that mistake right away--she hates typos, too. If I could talk I'd say "what's the big deal, you understood what they meant" but she says it's a pet peeve. I thought I was her pet peeve? 

    Anyway, keep fightin' the good fight, my man, I can't wait to see pictures of you kickin' some squirrel butt. And I look forward to your next post.    XOXO Ruby