My Vacation by Baxter

from some adventures of Baxter, a West Highland Terrier

My Vacation 

by Baxter

I love going to John’s house. He’s my owner’s boyfriend; I know this from all the kissing I’ve seen them do. John lives in Mossyrock, Washington, a rural town near the mountains.When we drive there, I always know we’re getting close when I see Christmas tree farms, blueberry farms, cows, and horses and Shelley looks happy. 

The minute we get to John’s, I can’t wait to jump out and run around his big yard, barking joyfully. I confess that even with all that outdoor space, I did leave the yard one time. I couldn’t help it. I saw a black lab with his owner across the road and I had to run over to check out the situation (luckily the road is just a neighborhood street with hardly any traffic).  There was a puppy too, but someone was holding it.  Then Frannie, the owner, crossed the road with her dog and chatted with Shelley for a while.  I could tell they hit it off from the friendly talking they were doing. I romped and played with her dog until I got tired of it and growled at him, baring my teeth. “Baxter!” I heard Shelley say, “be nice!” They talked a little more until Frannie and her black lab crossed back to their house, and Shelley and I went into John’s house.

The next morning, while Shelley was in the bedroom getting dressed, the lab and the puppy showed up at our front door. “Can Baxter come out and play?” they asked in their doggie language. When Shelley came out, John told her all about it. “The puppy tried to run in the house,” he said, “but Baxter chased it away and both dogs ran back home.”

A few minutes later, Frannie showed up at the door. “I apologize for my dogs,” she said, “please let me know if they ever bother you.”

“That’s alright,” Shelley replied, laughing. “They just wanted to know if Baxter could come out and play.” John and Shelley invited her in to see his house and they showed her around. They had a good visit and then she went back to her house.

Later that day, we walked through the daisy field beside John’s yard. This is a field, growing with tall green grass and white daisies. John had mowed a pathway through it so that we could take a walk.. It was a beautiful sunny day in the sixties. “This is my favorite kind of weather,” Shelley said. I trotted ahead of them as Shelley is a slow poke. She fell a year ago and broke her collarbone; she’s been a little unsteady ever since. John walks beside her, holding her hand and slowing his pace to match hers. At one spot, they stopped at some blackberry bushes. Shelley picked a small juicy berry and ate it. She didn’t offer me any but it wasn’t a doggie treat so I didn’t care. When we emerged from the daisy field, I plopped down in the shade of a tall evergreen tree and rested. 

Then we went into the house and I was content to lay around the rest of the day while John and Shelley finished a thousand piece puzzle they said was challenging. It contained multiple images of eggplants, which Shelley says is one of her favorite vegetables (the joke’s on her; it’s actually a fruit because it contains seeds, but Shelley doesn’t care. She slices it, dips it in flour, egg, and cracker crumbs and fries it as a side dish for pasta).

The next day, I had a couple morning romps in the yard. Then Shelley put a belly band on me (in case I’m tempted to pee in John’s house; I confess that I’ve peed in Shelley’s house before). “We’re going on a nature drive,” she said. “We’ll be back later. When they returned, Shelley gave me a piece of hamburger that John had not been able to finish at a place called Applebee’s. It made the wait for their return worth it. Then I had some more romps in the yard.

The next morning, Shelley brought her suitcase out to the kitchen and gathered up my bag and my soft orange fleece lined blanket. John loaded the stuff up in his red ford truck and I jumped in. He had brought us here this time and he was taking us home. I knew that Shelley was glad he did that and she didn’t have to drive. She’s always a little tense driving the freeway. Fortunately for her, John likes to drive.We headed out of Mossyrock, crossing over a big lake. “Goodbye Mayfield Lake,” I heard Shelley say, “until next time”. I went to sleep on my orange fleece blanket. It had been a good vacation.

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

A very clever story as seen from the eyes of a dog….with lots of fun details and vivid descriptions of the lovely Washington countryside….
Well done!
Warmly, B

[Shelley Warner]

Thank you for reading this story Betty. I had fun writing it.

[Betty Hermelee]

You're very welcome!
Warmly, B