Dog ‘Tails’ and Campfire Lessons

Sometimes I look at him, and wonder.  His beautiful brown eyes and long eyelashes.  His curly brown hair.  His playful ways.  His quirks. His preferences.  And I think, you are the most immature 28 year-old I know. Grow up already.  Okay, 28 in dog years.

I recently took Chester, our 65 pound, Chocolate Labradoodle to dog camp.  Let me back up a bit.  I took him for an “interview” at dog camp.  He had to pass the “getting along with other campers interview” before he could have any other camp privileges.   He passed!  And now he will return for a full week of camp while the rest of the family hits the Desert Southwest for vacation.

It is a state-of-the-art facility for all things Canine, but I still felt nervous.  Aside from greeting the neighbor dogs through the fence, Chester’s not been around other dogs very much.  So dog camp seemed like a stretch—for him and me.

The ordeal started at 7:30 a.m. Tuesday morning.  Chester is always ready for an adventure.  Whether it’s a walk around the hood, or a beloved car ride to run errands, he’s all in.  Except for this morning.  I couldn’t find him anywhere.  Didn’t he know this was his chance to escape his ordinary day of chasing butterflies, birds and squirrels in the backyard?

Finally he appeared through the dog door.  I excitedly told him we were going to dog camp!  Woo Hoo!  And then I realized, as I so often do, that I was speaking to a dog.  After much coaxing Chester entered the garage.  Seriously, he is never tentative about going anywhere.  After offering many dog treats and climbing in the back of the car myself to coax him, we were safely on our way.  Whew!

As we entered the parking lot for dog camp, I could hear the faint sounds of barking, and so could Chester.  I could sense his timidity getting out of the car.  But the minute we walked in, well there’s not better way to describe this than to get my “dog” on:

Oh my, oh my.  It smells so good in here.  Tail wagging ferociously. Jump. Jump.  Wow I love this place.  Let’s go.  Let’s see.  Oh my.  Must jump up on the counter and see.  Ooo treats.  Yummo.  Jump some more.  Oh little kiddos.  Let’s sniff. Sniff them.  Ooo they smell like breakfast.  Yummo.  Ooo the pretty lady is coming to get me.  Must jump on her.  I’m as tall as her.  Yippee.  Bye, Mom. Don’t look so tired and worn out.  I’ll be fine. 

Yep.  That pretty much described my first hour of the morning.  I was exhausted.  And I was almost convinced, after watching several other dogs being dropped off for camp, that Chester is quite immature for his age.  Some walked through the door like they owned the place.  Others walked through in quiet observation.  Some sadly glanced back at their owners as they were being drug away to the campground.  None of them had leashes or choke chains.  What was their secret?

The kind attendant even said, after Chester knocked off the neatly stacked clipboards from the four-foot counter,  “Why don’t I get him out of here so you can fill out the paperwork.”

Oh no, he’s not even going to pass the interview is he?

Thankful for the many advances in technology, I was able to download an app onto my phone and watch Chester at day at camp.  He never sat down.  Not once.  He played—hard.

At promptly 3:00 p.m., I picked him up.  I saw him say good-bye to his new-found friends and walk calmly down the hallway to meet me at the door.  But when he saw me he practically knocked me over with his excitement.

Oh, Mom, Mom!  You came back.  Lick. Lick.  I’m so sorry for how hyper I was.  I’m fine now.  I was just nervous before.

Hmm.  Maybe it’s not immaturity.  Maybe it was just nerves.  New place.  New smells.  New look.  New people.

We humans like familiarity too.  We are more comfortable when we are surrounded by what we know.  I wonder if we took the time to understand someone a little better—to know their story before we make decisions about them—maybe our world would be more like camp too.