Bonnie remembers Cape Charles

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Hi, this is Bonnie.

Dad said I could use this space, even if it has nothing to do with bicycles.

He said he owns it, so we can do anything with it we want. “Hell, why not,” he said.

He’s like that!

***

Hi, everyone,

So we left Cape Charles yesterday.  Going back to the “normal” for a few days, Dad said.  I think Dad is a little worried that my schedule is all mixed up; and that I have not been eating well.

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So, I think I will miss Cape Charles.

You see, where we were staying, there was this big, huge grass field and Dad let me run and run on it.  Me and Dad, we would play on it for a good long time.  And when I got tired, we sat and watched the big moving things on the road way nearby.  One time, Dad even let me get real close to the road way.  So I said Hello to the people in the moving things.  In my outdoors voice.  And they waved back to me.  Some even said Hello with that big honking sound.  So I said Hello some more.

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And then there was the ocean.  I mean, I am kind of afraid of it right now, but I think I can get used to it.  What I like about it is, it has a lot of white, soft sand; and I could just run and run.  And then there were these big seagulls, some even came to say Hello to us.  So of course, I said Hello right back.

And then there were all these new sights and scents, and they don’t smell like smoke.  I really liked walking with Dad at the ocean, because there were just so many things for me to sniff.  In fact, I wished I had more noses.  I even tasted the ocean water; it kind of tasted like the fish treat that Dad gives me.

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What I will probably miss the most are the people.  I already told you about the people at the place where we stayed and how I just love the BIG biscuit bones (thank you, ladies-at-the-peacock-place).  They and the other people I met are really, really nice.  They just don’t seem to be in hurry to go anywhere.  Everyone always stopped to pet me (and of course, told me how beautiful I am.)  They even let me in their eating place.  AND gave me water and ice cubes (hello, pretty-lady-with-pretty-smile-with-a-Beagle-named-‘Bama.)  AND pet me (and said “Awwww, aren’t you a pretty puppy?”)  I mean, isn’t that just all kind of awesome?  In fact, we were walking downtown Cape Charles one day (imagine that, me walking downtown anywhere!) and there was this lady who stopped her car just to tell me I am such a pretty dog (thank you, lady-who-stopped-your-car!)

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You see, I don’t know of too many places.  I know the place where we live (you know, where the “normal” is); my vet’s office (thank you, but No, thank you!); and the place where I get a bath and brush every so often.  And now, Cape Charles.

At my “normal” place, there’s also a grassy area where Dad would take me every so often.  Whenever we get there, Dad would just make me sit.  People asked and he said he was training me not to bark and not to chase (I mean, what else does a dog do?)  But what we were really doing was watching what Dad calls the “yapper parade.”  “Let’s just watch them,” he said.  And some of these yappers are really kind of annoying, especially with their yapping barks.  I mean, if you are going to talk, then talk properly.  So, I would tell them to shut up.  And every time I do that, with me being such a big, active girl, people would think I am “aggressive.”  It would be a good day when I could keep quiet and just let them go by.  And then people would tell me I am such a well-behaved dog.  (So, what am I am, aggressive or well-behaved?  And well-behaved for what?  Just because I could sit when my Dad told me to?  Doesn’t yours do that?)

Now that I met the people at Cape Charles, I notice just how busy (and hurried and hyper and angry) the people at my “normal” place are.  Just the other day, Dad stopped at a place where we were supposed to stop, and people behind us were yelling at us to “go.”  Dad taught me to stop and sit before we cross a roadway, you know, where there are these white stripes on the road.  And sometime, I have to sit for a good long time before we can cross, even though Dad said the cars were supposed to wait and let us cross.  We live near a place called “Town Center” and I have seen it maybe just once or twice during my time with Dad.  Dad almost never walks me there, because he said it would be like walking me “at a NASCAR circuit.”  (I don’t know what a NASCAR circuit is, but it’s probably not a very good place to walk a dog.  So Dad found me other grassy areas where I could even run. Where I could tell the squirrels to get back up their trees and race with the cottontails.  And NO yappers.   Yay!)

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On the way back, I could tell Dad was getting tense, the closer we got to our “normal” place.  I mean, I still a little girl, and I have known Dad for only a short time, but we dogs can feel our humans, you know?  After all, they don’t call us “Men’s Best Friends” for nothing.  See, on the way down, he was playing and singing along with all these songs on the sound machine (and there was this one song I really like; it’s something about America and Puerto Rico–I know that word because that’s where I am from; and the girls would sing “yai yai yai” and clap their hands every so often.)  On the way back, well, he did not play any song.  Instead, he had to listen to what he called “the traffic report;” and every once in a while, he would say the bad word for feces.

So, Dad, breathe.  Just breathe!

And maybe we can do this road trip thing again soon?  I think I would like that.

***

Well, that’s all I have for now.  I hope everyone is having a good day today.  I will write again very soon.

Love always,

Bonnie Lassie

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