Yoo 498 - Beach Camping

We took Roscoe beach camping last weekend and it was hilarious in a this-was-such-a-bad-idea kind of way.

First, he threw up in the car on the drive there. He's never vomited before so that was weird. But I've decided he's a really considerate canine retcher cause he cleaned it right up himself.

If Roscoe could talk, I imagine the dialogue would have played out as follows:

Roscoe, looking dazed: "Hey guys, I think I feel funny."

Begins coughing. Coughing turns to heaving. Teagan peers into the back seat.

Teagan, concerned:  "Hey buddy, you ok?"

Roscoe, looking drunk, sticks his head between the front seats: Pause. "Why's everyone looking at me?" Perks up. "Wait, are you still eating Doritos? I want a Dorito!"

Two seconds pass. A scent captures his attention and he looks down, seemingly discovering his mess.

Roscoe, excitedly:  "Holy gold mine! Treat!! How did I miss this??"

And just like that, you couldn't even tell he'd gotten sick. He was very thorough. I was less disturbed and mostly grateful.

When we got to the beach and tried to introduce Roscoe around, he freaked out. We tried to slowly get him close to the water but he went full tank-mode on us and clamored to get as far away as possible. I have no clue why. Maybe it sounded like a million vacuums to him?

We tethered him to the front wheel of our vehicle and started unloading stuff from the back. This open door was like an open invitation and he hoped on in and climbed over two rows of seats, still tethered to the front wheel, mind you.

This got sand EVERYWHERE. And happened twice.

The second time, he refused to get out so we rolled down the windows and let him spend most of the evening huddled on the floor. Not really what I had in mind when I first dreamed of taking my dog to the beach...

At bedtime we let him into our tent. That was another bad idea. He calmed down a bit, but he walked around the tent ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I swear he's become nocturnal. This wouldn't have been horrible if we hadn't been crammed in a two-man tent. I was rudely awoken every twenty minutes with a different dog part in my face and at least one puppy paw piercing my body. Greg somehow slept thru most of that.

The morning came with a glorious sunrise and Roscoe trying to slash his way out of the tent. He did eventually warm up to the beach and even ventured into the water for some time. Though he was really more interested in going crazy every time he saw a seagull or a crane or a crab.

Not to mention the gnarly bruise he left on my thigh. That dog has a very powerful water stroke...

As we were getting ready to leave, Roscoe started digging a huge hole right under our tire. When I discovered him, he jumped in it and acted all nonchalant like nothing was going on.

"Hole? What hole? Hey look at that bird..."

The trip ended with an exhausted couple, driving back home and laughing at their crazy, salt-crusted dog. The excursion was worth it in a nothing-is-boring-with-roscoe kind of way.

Have a great day :-)