queen of everything
you sly dog you.
The Wolf and I trekked to the wild side again today for pine scented breezes and hugely comical moments.
What's this you say? Hugely Comical Moments? Do tell all.
Well, it happened like this: We parked in our usual spot on the gravel pad near the group camping spot and, as usual, glowered at the Pepsi machine they have installed near the little bathroom shed. Now, I'm not the sort to normally sniff at modern conveniences. I actually cheered the little toilet shack when they erected it. Wee me has a wee bladder and while I could feasibly drop trou in the woods and be seen by no one but squirrels and the wolf (who has seen me in a plethora of compromising positions and wouldn't bat an eyelash), I just know in the root of my being that the moment I actually did this, an entire pack of dog walkers would spy my gleaming white ass through the folliage and promptly assemble to mock and scold me. So, when the restrooms went up, I was relieved. No pun intended.
But the Pepsi machine is a whole other story. Despite the sepia-toned image of canoers enjoying lakeside pops, it just doesn't belong there and marrs my whole wilderness walk experience. It's like wearing a prom dress to go grocery shopping. I want to enjoy my nature hikes unfettered by snack machines. I want to be beaned by wayward acorns (see previous entry) and dazzled by nature. I wanna feel all rugged and granola and shrub-hugging and all that. Hulking glow-in-the night vending machines just ain't a part of that picture.
But I digress. Anyway, we emerged from the car and were bobbing along the bunny trail when I realized i'd forgotten the doggie hygiene bag in the car and the wolf was wearing her "gotta go. Gotta go big and gotta go NOW" expression.
Normally, I try to discourage her from running through the little field separating the parking area from the main path through the woods because it's not so much a field as a vicious tangle of burs, brambles and briars soaring well over my head and trust me, when you've got a long-haired dog, you want to avoid burs and briars (and thus, hours of brushing mats outta your canine companion's coat) as much as possible.
But you know, she had that LOOK and I didn't want her to plop her goodies right there on the narrow path. Because it's just bad karma not to pick up after your dog. It's like asking for shit of a different, and way bad, stripe to come your way. So I sent her into the tangle, thinking that if no one can see or step in the evidence, maybe this one wee infraction won't result in any karmic consequence. So off she trots.
There was some rustling and a long pause and a bit more rustling and another long pause. And then she emerged. And velcroed snugly to the top of her pointed head were three huge bristling burs arranged in a perfect triangle and looking exactly like a grand green tiara. The expression on her face... it was priceless. I really can't do it justice, you just had to be there. She looked as if she'd just been crowned Queen of the Forest and was taking her newly bestowed duties VERY seriously. You know that expression Queen Victoria always wears (or rather, always wore)? Like someone was holding a small and stinky turd right under her nose? It was that expression exactly. Someone had abducted my dog while she was in the brambles doing her business and replaced her with this ridiculously crowned doggy despot.
She snorted at me imperiously as if I was just so much vermin, and nose lifted to the sky , pranced out with her tail held high. On the very tip of her tail, like some majestic little pom-pom, another green bur.
I howled. I roared. I literally slapped my thigh, it was that funny. And the wolf? well, she kept prancing and preening and waving her pom-pom in dramatic, majestic arcs, occasionally shooting me darting looks that informed me pointedly "We are not Amused. Or Amusing."
After a couple of minutes, I recovered sufficently enough to try to remove her jewels. But she was having none of that. As I said, she was taking her new status very seriously and just didn't seem to understand why I wasn't .
So I dutifully trailed behind while she paraded down to the wooded path, occasionally nodding to either side as if expecting woodland creatures to fall onto their furry little knees in awe of the majestic sight of her.
Now, you have to understand that this is not at all her usual behaviour. Normally, she charges into the woods – tail rotating like a big feathered propeller behind her, pink tongue lolling idiotically to the side of her big goofy retriever grin – and pounces enthusiastically on the first stick she sees.
But not today. Not for her majesty, such unseemly behaviour. No, the royal we will have none of that bounding about for sticks foolishness. And we most certainly won't be drooling or hanging our tongues out or engaging in any other sort of uncivilized behaviour. And i think tea and crumpets will do nicely for the mid-day meal, don't you? And for goodness sake, curtsy before you address me, you impertinent human you.
Ooh it was a hoot! She kept it up for about 10 minutes (which is like an hour in dog years) but finally, she tore into the woods after the squirrel who had been jeering her entire performance from somewhere unseen. I pictured Chip or Dale up there somewhere convulsed against a tree, doubled over with laughter. When she returned to me, she'd dislodged her tiara and the tail pom-pom and was once again her goofy self.
26 – number of cds stacked on my desk awaiting tranfer to itunes
3 – number of piles they are stacked in to
0 – number of dead raccoons spotted on way to park
1 – number of dead raccoons spotted on way to deliver husband to train
0 – number of times i mentioned i even HAD a husband previous to this
4 – number of other dogs we encountered today.
the lack of spell check in diaryland is gonna kill me.