Puppy camp...

Bravo and I have been taking classes at Wag It ever since he was a wee pup.  It's fun, and he is a good boy. I've met nice people there, and it is an excellent reason to leave the house once in a while.  For years I have been hearing about Wag It Camp, and always thought it sounded like a ton of fun.  "If I ever had the right dog, that would be neat to do." I thought.

Last winter, on a cold night, I read more about camp, and saw pictures.  Happy looking people and dogs frolicking in the water and sunshine and working in teams on brightly colored training courses.  I looked down at Bravo by my feet and said to my husband, "There is something I'd like to do..."  He perked right up.  "Let's do it!" he said.  "No, it's something just for me, and Bravo," I explained. I told him all about camp.  "You should go," he said.  "I'd be away for 4 nights," I said. He hates it when I am away. "GO!" he said. "You'd have to take care of the animals," I said.  "Just go," he insisted.  "It's kind of expensive," I said. He handed me a debit card.  "Make the deposit," he said.  And I did.

I was giddy with excitement.  For months I happily anticipated spending time on a beautiful New England lake with my dog and other dog-loving people. The days ticked by, and last weekend I packed up my little truck and my good pup and off we went.  Camp Marist on Lake Ossipee  in New Hampshire.  It was everything I imagined.  A beautiful piece of land, dotted with white buildings all trimmed in forest green.  A sand beach crescent embraced the clear, summer-warmed waters of the lake.  Mountains arched behind it, their faces ever changing in the light.

We spent a good bit of time on that shore... swimming with dogs, throwing toys for dogs, watching the loons swim, the sun set, the mist rise.  There were funny floats to ride, wildlife to watch, and the pleasant sound of small, rippling waves kissing the land.

Each day had a calendar with offerings of training classes and other activities one could enjoy. It was often hard to choose.

Bravo was a very good boy.  Here he is waiting for a class to begin. Like a gentleman.

For 5 days I didn't have to plan, prepare or clean up after a meal. And though I enjoy cooking, this was a treat.  I stayed in a room in a cabin, with a clearly discernible scent of testosterone in the air.  But the mattress was reasonably comfortable, and my new sleeping bag was soft and cozy.   I went to bed before 9 every night, and slept hard.  Bravo and I woke at 5 each morning and went for rambling walks, exploring the property.

 Morning activities began with guided meditation on the beach, evenings were ended with bonfires, s'mores and friendly chats.  And in between, time with our dogs.  It was... pretty darn great.

Back at home, Chris and Rachel did my chores, and Rachel groomed in the studio. She had a terrible cold, but never let on, afraid I would come right home. She is kind and tough as nails.
It felt weird to be there when they were here.  But soon enough I was back, and I seamlessly slid into the rhythm of my normal days.  A little more rested, refreshed, and more closely bonded with Bravo.

Camp.  It was a marvelous, indulgent, delicious little adventure.