Stick a Fork in Me…I’m DONE!

First of all, I want to thank so many of you who expressed concern and sympathy for Merry’s dog Lucy.  I don’t know what the final decision will be.  Merry really wants to continue to train Lucy at this point in time, but how long that will be a viable option is subject to debate.  Only time will tell on this.

My brother is a show breeder and well respected expert and author on the subject of German Shepherds.  We are all well versed in the dangers of hip dysplasia.  Merry questioned the owner of Lucy’s parents carefully on this subject and they insisted that neither of the parents nor the grandparents had any problems.  I think they either misrepresented the truth or are just ignorant of the facts.  I am so sad for Lucy and for Merry.

♥♥♥

After a beautiful start to yesterday, a nice afternoon and a pleasant evening…it all disintegrated in a big hurry.

The evening was cooling off nicely and we settled down in our snug little bunks for a good night’s sleep when BAM – the sky lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve and the heavens roared and rumbled like Russ’s stomach right before a good meal…maybe even louder.

Now most of you have been in a thunder storm in your RV but this was our first time to experience the rumbling echoes inside a tin box while two fifty plus pound fur balls, overcome with terror, found new and inventive ways to drive their mommy and daddy CRAZY! 

At home, Poppy runs for the bathroom at the first sign of a boomer.  She wraps herself around the toilet and, thus hidden from the night terrors, passes the time with the door closed and the exhaust fan running at full speed.  This way she feels cozy and safe and can barely hear the heavenly cacophony.  The fantastic fans in the motor home were of no use as it was raining so they had to remain closed.  We ran the fan on the roof A/C all night but even that was not enough to mask the noise of the thunder boomers.  If you have ever been in central Oregon during a thunder storm, you know they don’t hold back – you get the whole shebang.

Rusty on the other hand has no such safe place and has no idea what to do with himself.  He normally crawls into bed with us and lays shaking between our heads until the storm passes.  Last night he took this behavior to new heights.  First he wanted on Russ’s bed, then my bed, then he wanted on my pillows – the foot of my bed being deemed less safe than the head.  Then he wanted down, then he scratched on the beds, then on the door…any door…then under the table, then back on the beds, then on the small dresser between the beds.  He shook like Santa Claus’s tummy and the proverbial bowl full of jelly.  He would not be comforted.

Meanwhile, Poppy knows there is a bathroom behind door number one and she is determined to go inside.  The problem is, in a Lazy Daze, the water closet is tiny, and the toilet is perched on a small ledge with very little floor space below.  On one side of the toilet sits a VERY small waste can and on the other, a toilet bowl cleaner.  After denying her access for most of the night and trying every other method we could think of to clam her, I finally opened the bathroom door.  She would barely fit on the floor but even that wasn’t good enough.  More than once we had to disentangle her and forcibly remove her front leg from the waste can as she tried desperately to curl herself around the coolness of the toilet bowl.  My hand towels and wash clothes which normally sit on a low shelf, were scattered on the floor and in the waste can and the toilet bowl cleaner came crashing down more than once.  Finally, about 4:30 this morning, Poppy became convinced that she could hide on the small floor portion of the bathroom and I turned on a portable fan and closed the door as far as it would close without totally squishing her and she fell into a fitful sleep. 

Not so with Rusty.  He had me up ALL night.  Finally, as Poppy calmed down, I took Rusty out into the living area and closed the door so Russ could get some sleep.  Since more of the same was forecast for tonight, we had determined that we were heading for home ASAP.  Russ needed some sleep so he could drive us home.

I tried to get a little rest on the narrow sofa – no WAY!  Rusty jumped on me, laid on my feet, jumped off, went under the table, scratched at the sofa, crawled down into the driver’s foot well, climbed out and into the passengers foot well, scratched at the windows, stuck his head under the curtains and on and on.  Finally about 5:30 I gave up, got dressed and took him outside for a long walk.  The sky was still angry but the boomers had stopped and I thought I could walk the restlessness out of him.  We did have a nice walk and I walked within 6 feet of a small doe enjoying her breakfast al fresco.  We nodded a greeting and she watched me carefully walk around her and she went back to her business.  Rusty neither saw nor smelled the deer!!!  That tells you how out of it he was.

So what does “I’m DONE” mean?  I am seriously re-thinking all this travel business.  Seems like every time we go anywhere there is a problem.  Either I am sick, or Russ is sick, or I fall down the steps, or Rusty cuts his leg, etc., etc.  There are always problems with the dogs.  I did not want to keep carrying their home beds into and out of the motor home so I bought them brand new beds…same kind, from Costco.  Nice clean soft beds that don’t stink.  They HATE them.  Rusty tried and tried last night to “make” his bed to his liking and I even joined in – nothing doing.  Just too new and soft.  And speaking of beds…it it WALL TO WALL dog beds when we go.  I am always tripping over a dog bed or a water dish or a bowl of dry food.

I just think the whole idea of travel is too much trouble.  All we do is work.  We work for days getting ready to go – loading up, topping off gas, propane, water…washing bugs off…you all know the drill.  Then we go for one frigging night, get NO sleep, and come home and do the whole process in reverse.  NOT WORTH IT!  And I know one thing for sure…if I EVER get back in that motor home it will be without the dogs.  They are too old and too set in their ways and they just want to be in their own home in their own beds.  The only reason they want to go is they don’t want us to go without them.  If we just stayed home 100% of the time and devoted all our time and attention to them, THEN they would be perfectly happy.  So since they are old and we chose to be their parents, I guess that is what we need to do.  Beyond that, I am too tired to think.  Think I'll go take a nap.