Rocket's DogBlog - Not THE Black Dog

Chapter 66

DENVER - Yo.

I'm back. Did you miss me? Of course you did.  I was vacationing on Martha's Vineyard, a place about as different from Denver as I could imagine.  Dog, it was paradise.

We went with Marianne and John's New Jersey dogs-in-law Regina and Dave and their CCI puppy Olsen, along with Delaware puppy raiser friends Diana and Pete with their CCI puppy Thor.  Six humans, three dogs -- we outnumbered them, believe me. 

We stayed in a rental house that was close to the beach. THE BEACH. OMD, the beach.  I have to make sure I graduate with someone who lives near the ocean.  I loved flinging myself into the waves and then rolling in the water and the sand -- heaven!  Especially if there was a hint of dead fish or sea creature in the sand. *SIGH*

Because CCI dogs are not allowed off-leash in unfenced areas, the humans had brought along our 30-foot long-line leashes. We dogs thought it was great fun to run as fast as we could to the end of the leashes and crash into the waves, weave our leashes together and then run over and shake water all over the humans as they tried to untangle us. Since they just laughed at us I guess they thought it was pretty fun too.

We had a big fenced deck to play on at the house. Olsen discovered he could stand on the picnic table and pretend he was a scurvy dog on a pirate ship. I jumped up with him a couple of times but Thor refused to try it. Olsen and I heard a lot of "OFF!" and "NO!" and "DON'T!"  Heh.

The humans did a fair amount of sightseeing. At first I was pleased to discover that I have a HUGE fan club on the island; everywhere we went there was Black Dog merchandise and signs and restaurants. People kept stopping to admire me.  I was a little embarrassed when Marianne told me I was not THE Black Dog on the signs. Oh.  Olsen and Thor felt a little left out at first, but really, we all got tons of attention and admiration. As naughty as we can be at home during play time, we know when to be serious and mind our manners out in public. We saw a museum, several lighthouses and too many shops.

Sunday was the longest travel day in the history of dogdom. First we had a 30-minute car ride, then a 45-minute ferry crossing followed by a three-hour bus trip, just in time for a four-hour plane flight, followed by a shuttle to our car and a 40-minute ride home. Altogether it was 13-hours of being smashed into small spaces under seats; I was grateful to get home to a very late dinner and my own bed.

When we woke up the next morning Marianne asked if I knew what day it was. I yawned and thought about it. "Monday? I know, today is John's birthday!"  She nodded and said, "Yes! And he's getting a puppy for his birthday!"

JEB! Jeb's coming!

Chow for now!

Rocket

 

 

 

 

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