We decided
to forego any Kansas sightseeing today.
I admit, I’m getting a little worn out.
So we just drove. And it was
really nice to have an easier, shorter day.
The kids are doing pretty well overall—the driving part hasn’t been
nearly as bad as I’d feared. J and R
entertain themselves by getting lost in their pretend games or by pestering
each other. K and S continue to be the
best intervention for a fussy B.
Although it’s becoming a family joke that K’s standard opening diversion
is, “Look, B! Is that a truck?” When you live on the open road, there is
always a truck.
We stopped
for lunch at Dairy Queen. Where B spent
all her time trying to climb over the back of our booth. She is not a good buddy for eating out. But she did enjoy the ice cream. Somehow, though, I remember DQ blasts being
yummier. It’s possible that cold stone
has spoiled all my childhood memories of ice cream treats.
We thought
we were in Iowa for a good portion of our drive. But as we discovered hours later, we were
actually in Missouri. One of the side
effects of navigating solely with a gps unit rather than maps. Not that it matters, really, but the kids
thought it was funny that we didn’t even know which state we were in. Other than the state of denial. And the state of grumpiness. And the state of impatience. And many other such lame puns.
We finally
crossed the M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I into Iowa just before we got to the
hotel. Since the hotel manager seemed
abnormally dog friendly (for a hotel manager, anyway), we left the dogs in the
room and walked across the parking lot to have a real live sit down
dinner. It feels like it’s been ages
since we’ve done that. The little local
diner had surprisingly good food, fortunately.
Unfortunately, for little B it was more of a sit down, stand up, turn
around, climb the table, grab the drinks, steal a fistful of spaghetti from
across the table type of a meal. No
wonder we mostly never go out for dinner.
She sort of makes me lose my appetite.
When we were
leaving the diner, I figured it might be a good time to turn on my cell phone
for the first time that day. Just in
case somebody had tried to call me. Oh,
say, like the hotel manager. Who left a
rather alarming message for us to call her back ASAP. And that would be when we entered the state
of panic.
She had received
a phone call from a poor fellow hotel guest saying that there was a big dog who
wouldn’t let him out of his room. It was
Charger. The stinker. Who can now apparently add ‘opens doors’ to
his list of talents. We can’t quite
figure out the whole not letting the guy out of his room thing. Charger wouldn’t have barked at the guy
unless he 1) had a cat hiding in his room, 2) was riding a scooter, 3) was
delivering some mail, or 4) had a bird fluttering around his head. But Charger would have been nosy, trying to
sniff around the door to determine if Shaggy was in there. He’s all about chasing small animals and
staying close to Shaggy. I hope the poor
guy isn’t scarred for life. But we weren’t
about to hunt him down and go apologize.
I’m a little fuzzy on the proper social etiquette for this sort of
thing, anyway. Flowers? Chocolate?
A simple card, perhaps? What is
the best way to say sorry my dog escaped from our hotel room and trapped you in
yours? Leave it be. Probably the best policy.
So, when the
fabulous and dog friendly hotel manager got this call for help from her guest,
she promptly went up to the 5th floor and put Charger back in our
room. He was quite docile and
sweet. Probably because he knew he was
in big trouble. The stinker.
I'm cheating and including this picture from later in our travels. Ruger is the big one. The stinker is on the right. |
We were
lucky that Ruger wasn’t quick enough to join Charger in his little
escapade. And it was good that we
learned about Charger’s newfound talent at this particular hotel and with this
particular hotel manager rather than another point in our travels.
So much for
our easy, low stress day. We put the
younger kids to bed at a decent hour and watched a little Harry Potter while we
polished off an entire box of cookies dunked in milk. We did not share with Charger. The stinker.
We learned a
good lesson today. One that will
hopefully prevent any future dog escapes.
We’ll see what tomorrow brings, because we’re not there yet.
1 comment:
We've heard stories of bears who open cabin doors and leave the place in shambles when they leave. So I guess it's not too surprising that Charger can open doors. After all, he is smarter than the average bear.
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