OK, I'll admit it. I may have overstretched myself today. and as a result I'm absolutely pooped. Worn out. Have no energy to do anything but lay here in my nice furry bed on the floor of the kennel and let the body system recover and reset. Mum and Dad step over me as I'm totally in the way and yet they don't seem to mind. Dad even sometimes holds my hand with his foot as he pounds away on that keyboardy thing up above. He says he's "blogging". I say he can do what ever likes just so long as he doesn't step on my face when he gets up to refill his glass. It's a very compact space this little kennel of ours, but it's home and I love it.
First thing this morning after breaky (which was the same half a cup of the same dried pellets that I've had every day of my life - not complaining mind you - just saying) I herded Mum and Dad into town on their fold up bikes. This was really good fun as I love a good run because that's what we Kelpies are bred to do. I know this instinctively - everyone else knows this because they are told so in Kelpie Museums and shows like Muster Dogs (which, by the way, spend way too much time focusing on the parents, not on the dogs themselves... I mean seriously - they never interview the dogs, get their opinions etc. to me the whole thing is way too parent biased) anywoof - I digress... We ran into town along a very nice pathway winding along the shoreline and this is where my opportunity to poop really came to the fore. It's easy to say I was pooped but taking it to another level (mostly just to annoy Dad .. heh heh) I actually stopped and pooped three times on the way! It's a great delaying tactic because I know he has to stop and pick it up. So while he's doing that I can stop running some more and wander around the spot sniffing the smells of all the critters that live there. Mum was up front and often had to wait while we dealt with all these pooping scenarios.
Our mission was to get to the cafe to repeat yesterdays parents caffination experience - replete with the same toasted fruit bread, spread with marmalade infused butter.
This worked out all extremely well and we then walked the bikes around the corner to the art gallery so Mum could go inside and I could get anxious being outside (even though Dad was with me and trying to get me to pose for yet another photo). The ride back along the coastal path was slower as I was seriously getting tired, was still pretty happy though that I got another poop out on the way. So far that's four poops in one outing! I'm excelling myself here. I love a challenge. I'm a Kelpie. Bring it on I say.
Back at the kennel, it wasn't too long before we all leapt into the car again and spent an hour on some very straight roads heading to a place called Stokes Bay. When we got there it was truly uninspiring. The beach was covered in rocks and seaweed. One very small patch of sand amongst it all and this was meant to be a swimming highlight of the island! Disenchanted and thinking we'd need to spend another hour going back to Emu bay we walked up to the beach cafe (which was also supposedly highly rated) and met our neighbor from the kennel park (the one with ant fetish). Who explained that the good beach was actually around the point, through some caves and well worth the effort to get there.
All good it seems. So I sat under yet another table in the sand whilst Mum and Dad above shared a stupendous serving of garlic pawns and chips with a side of aolie sauce and a side of salad. I can't even comprehend what that all means - possibly along the lines of - it was as good as a bone.
After that, the true adventure ensued. back to the car so they could change their chameleon coverings and gathering all the essential items for a play on the beach: Frisbee - check. Ball - check. Water for me - check. Shade - check (although only required when I'm absolutely totally pooped). Towel for me to lay on when totally pooped - check.. Anything else - I don't care ! hurry up ! let's go ! this is important ! there is serious stuff to get done on the beach here and you're stuffing around changing your chameleon coverings whilst hiding your private bits using the open doors of the car as privacy screens in a public car park like there is no urgency! Eventually I got them going even though we had to stop and Dad had to go back and get some poop bags just in case. I was all pooped out at that point, but didn't want to argue the point.
Though the rocks we went, very tight crevices and overhangs to emerge on what could only be described as the best beach ever. For me. Not only did it have the usual glistening white sand with gentle waves rolling onto a nice flat sand bar (great for catching frisbees and landing with a splash) but also a natural large tidal pool that I could learn to swim in by retrieving balls).
My excitement was palatable and once I dragged my parents away from the neighbors we got into some serious Kelpie beach fun times. This is my fun place. Get me on a beach and I demand to be entertained - And I will do every aerobatic trick I know to the extent of the limits of my abilities. So the few people there were obviously impressed with my frisbee catching capabilities.
What really surprised me was Mum taught me how to swim! The fact that it was in front of strangers didn't resonate with me because I have no social inhibitions. I am a dog after all. So Mum got me swimming though the calm waters of the rook pool as if I was an otter building a dam. Dam be damned - all I wanted was to get the ball back onto the bank, have a good shake down and go again.
This was all very exhausting stuff and I was feeling a bit pooped as we (well yes.. OK, then - "they") packed up the umbrella and all the other stuff and headed back to the car. Was pretty happy with myself though in that I managed to drop another poop on the sand just before leaving the beach. So Dad had to drop all the kit, rummage for the previously mentioned bags, scoop the poop (there were people watching - thinking "the sign says Dogs must be on a leash - and that dog isn't - and he's just shat right in front of us - who do I call to rectify this injustice"?) and then navigate his way through the tight crevices, scraping the umbrella against the rock walls whilst juggling a smelly bag of poop along with all the bags and sandals he was carrying. Five (extremely well timed) poops in one day. There was one earlier on before this diatribe so I'm pretty much all pooped out after all up six in one day.
On the way back to the kennel we stopped at a KI Gin distillery and I got to sit under a table whilst they had paddles of the wares of the place.
It was nice surroundings however I was agitated as I wanted to be fed (obviously had an empty belly) and a drink would be nice as well. So I nagged at them to get me satisfied. I was told to shut up. So I did. I'm a good dog. Then, after a bit, I nagged a little bit more because then I was bored as well as being and hungry and thirsty.
So as the afternoon sun rays gently wafted through the green foliage overhead and spread their radiance of joy and warmth throughout the gin aligned botanically planted gardens with tasting tables seemingly strewn throughout yet studiously arranged to ensure an ambiance which encourages a purchase of the wares upon exit, I nagged Mum and Dad to get out of there and meet my needs (whatever they were). Once again I was told to shut up, however it was time to go anyway (according to them) and I was a good dog and healed on a short lead in the shop whilst Mum and Dad fell victim to the ambiance with their credit card.
I could ramble on some more about bikies in the campsite and another wander down the beach at sunset - but I'm pooped. I have pooped (lots) and I am therefore pooped. Thus I sleep.
1 comment:
Safe travels!
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