Dog day weekend

As you guys were moving into the sixth heat wave of the year, we were moving into a red Ford Edge loaner to get us 5 hours away, to the Berkshires in western Massachusetts. 

Mountains = cooler temps.

Just plan cool (Photo: Stu Bykofsky)

But the long-weekend vacation was only partially weather-motivated. The major motivation was to visit my daughter, and the travelers were tense.

Tense because my Berner daughter and I have different political ideas, one being how much the government ought to hand out for free.  The other source of tension was that we were bringing our Shih Tzu mix, nicknamed Nut Bag, all 20 pounds of him. Daughter has a strong, handsome, 60-pound  Australian cattle dog mix, who is calm and friendly.

Nut Bag is neither, to other dogs.

The two dogs had met once before, in Philadelphia, with everything being wonderful. My daughter’s version.

Nut Bag growled and snapped when my daughter’s dog got too close. That is my version, supported by Half Pint. 

I call my daughter’s dog Lancelot, because he is handsome, and brave. He has treed a couple of bears who invaded my daughter’s spacious yard. 

For the benefit of new readers, I don’t use the names of family, friends, or even dogs, because the tree of the internet is populated with some useless sloths with nothing better to do than cause trouble.

Daughter and I agreed when we arrived she would greet us outside her house with both dogs leashed.

That was the first plan to be discarded.

Well, it was outside, and they were leashed, but it was just as we got out of the car. Nut Bag was delighted to see my daughter, whom he has seen many times. He loves her. Most critters, except Republicans, do.

He gave Lancelot a fish eye, but otherwise ignored him.

That was a victory. 

 Lancelot is such a good boy, he’s 6 ½, he didn’t object when Nut Bag picked up some of his toys. Some dogs would react violently to his space, and possessions, being invaded. But, as I said, Lancelot is a good boy.

There was no growling, and Nut Bag seemed to accept the presence of the much larger dog. Nut Bag got so casual, he even walked under Lancelot once or twice.

Daughter with dogs (Photo: Stu Bykofsky)

He happily shared my sister with Lancelot when she was in bed. He got to be a real, off-leash dog in the woods behind my daughter’s house. Little Nut Bag the. seemed to enjoy the freedom of running free in the woods, much more than visits to the dog park, which we suspended because he wasn’t having fun. He felt bullied by the other dogs.  Here he discovered his true dog inner self.

Knowing the two dogs could be trusted alone in the same room was important.

This may sound strange to anyone who hasn’t lived with a dog, but it is a responsibility not only to keep them fed and healthy, but happy, too.

This means we can have them together in the future with no worries.

It’s as if two quarrelsome siblings suddenly decided to bury the hatchet, kiss, and make up. 

We did a bunch of other stuff, too, but the takeaway memory is dogs having fun. 

4 thoughts on “Dog day weekend”

    Hope that your New England family survived the ‘caines, storms, rains and all ot the other stuff.
    Common ground. Animals will bring out the best in people. Especially when they’re from the opposite side of the political fence.
    Pam & I. We’d rather be around animals. If we had more ground and a place to ride, we would have horses.
    half way through the book

  2. A skier who fell is in a snowbank up to his glottis. Onto the scene walks a rescue dog, a St. Bernard with a cask of booze around its neck. The skier cries out, “At last! Here comes man’s best friend… and a dog!”

    The only time I ever saw my father cry was when he buried his dog Honey. Dad didn’t even cry when he buried his father. Honey kept Dad company — I mean Dad never went anywhere without his dog — for more than 12 years. Dad was a POW of the Germans in WWII and Mom said he wasn’t the same man who went off to war when he came home. He was distant with the family for the rest of his life, but was a different person around Honey.

    The only dog I ever had was a Bijon (spelling?) a gift to my son, Michael, when he was about 12. The dog lasted about six months and then got hit by a car when it ran into the street from our yard. Never got another dog. Could not deal with the pain.

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