Camping With My Buddy

You never know what's gonna happen when you take a dog camping with you, lol.

Camping with My Buddy

 

 

 

 

I love to camp, and when my Dad was still alive, we went camping each summer. One particular trip they (my dad and stepmother) had just bought a new, used mobile camper--a real monster--longer than a school bus. And it had ALL the amenities. (Not really what I consider camping!) 

Anyway, it was equipped with a bathroom, shower, stove, microwave, oven, and not only with a smoke alarm, but also a propane alarm, in case of a propane leak--which could be deadly. At night, I slept on a single bed made up where the table and benches were, and my dad and stepmom slept on a double bed that pulled out over where the couch was--covering most of the aisle. On this trip the girls were in Girl Scout Camp for the week, giving me a much-needed break. Buddy, a black-and-white Springer Spaniel, liked to sleep in the ?cave? under the bed, formed by the underside of the bed above and the covers draped down over the sides. This way he did not have to worry about being stepped on if someone got up in the middle of the night.

So, one night we were all sleeping peacefully when, 'round about 5 a.m. the propane alarm went off. As if it had been choreographed, each one of us leaped straight up in bed, then made a mad dash for a different door or window to open them and ventilate before we blew up. That?s funny . . . everything was wide open because it had been a beautiful, balmy night. We were so well ventilated we could not possibly have set off that #%#@%# alarm--but there it was, screaming out in silence of an early morning in the woods.

Wait! Where was Buddy? Why, there he was--way up front on the floor under the steering wheel shaking like a leaf. Oh, I forgot to mention that the propane alarm was on the low front wall of the couch--which happened to be under the bed when it was opened up. And as soon as we picked up the covers and ventilated under there, the bloody thing stopped screaming at us!

Hmmmm. Now what on earth could have possibly set that thing off under the bed in a very well-ventilated camper?? You don?t think it could have been . . . Buddy?? No. He was a gassy dog (and oh did they smell), but was it enough to set off a propane alarm? Yer darn tootin' it was!! And that is exactly what happened! And every trip thereafter Buddy absolutely refused to sleep under the bed, choosing to sleep on the floor under the steering wheel--as far away from that alarm as he could get!!

The camper is gone now, but the memories of that night remain. Buddy crossed the Rainbow Bridge several months before my Dad, and I am sure was waiting there to meet him when he arrived almost three years ago. And I'll bet there are NO propane alarms in Doggy Heaven!!

     © 2003 Linda Newman (All rights reserved)