My Peoples Are (Almost) Hardcore

So we went camping this weekend.  Yes we did!  Even though my peoples knew it was going to be cold and raining and snowing, they insisted on doing this thing.  This is hardcore.  Boss says that if they have to pop up the camper to get it ready for the winter, then they will be doing it in a nice place and staying inside of it.  I suggested Arizona.  Boss merely laughed and then explained that there was the "electricity" word at the park and that there would be a warm furnace and lots of blankets.  So this is almost hardcore, I guess.  But I am a dog with very little hair and a great fondness for heat, so I was not terribly excited to see the "snow" word.  But I was outvoted.  And the snow came anyway.

So it is already not looking good for me.  It is the "snow & rain" words and we are not even to the place where my peoples will park the van and leave me unattended for what seems like the longest half hour ever while they go eat babies the size of burritos.  What?  Oh.  Sorry, that is burritos the size of babies.  Either one sounds delicious to me.  What?  Oh.  Boss says that sort of comment is why dogs such as me are not allowed in Ontario.  For reals.  Go look it up here and scroll down to the "import" section.  This is going to ruin my super awesome vacation next fall because my peoples are going to go without me now.  I am sadness.

Oh but now I am happy again!  Look at how beautiful and handsome and robust and beautiful and handsome and robust I am!  What?  Yes.  I did mean to say that twice.  It is because I met two super awesomeness fantastic DNR officers on this dock and they declared me beautiful and handsome and robust.  Oh, and happy.  Yes, I was great happiness to be meeting very fine DNR officers with such pleasing and discerning taste in dogs such as myself.  You can not find a more beautiful and handsome and robust and happy dog anywhere else.  Especially not in Ontario, but I am not bitterness about that at all.  AT ALL.

This is the water of Mille Lacs Lake splashing on the rocks of Mille Lacs Lake where the Father Hennepin State Park is.  Yes, I understand that "Mille Lacs" means One Thousand Lakes in French, so it is actually One Thousand Lakes Lake, but I am guessing it was probably named by people in Ontario, so I am not surprised by this foolishness.  What?  Oh.  Boss explains to me that friend-the-gazelle lives in Ontario.  And to not be offensive to friend-the-gazelle.  And furthermore it was not every person in Ontario to make that silly rule, it was only a few and they found it easier to ban dogs such as myself than shoot stupid people with dog such as myself.  What?  Oh, yes yes yes.  I understand that shooting people is probably a little bit of an exaggerationism, but I was making a point.  I think.

Oh look I am adorableness again.  Well, I am blending in and hard to see, but it looks like I am finding a delicious snack of something dead washed up on the shore of the One Thousand Lakes Lake.  Like a dead ----  What?  Boss is giving me the frowny forehead face and is making emphatic arm and hand gestures.  Oh.  Boss says I am to drop the whole Ontario + ban of dogs such as me sub-topic on the immediatelyness.  Or there will be NO pepperoni at pizza making time.  Well.  I am perfectly willing to be bribed so I guess I will not be mentioning ----

At this point of our hike Boss got a little girly (please note there is not rain or snow or anything unpleasant OF ANY KIND in this picture).  Boss started saying things like "love being here with you" and "I am so glad we came" and "I do not feel bad the boys did not want to go with us" and I was looking at Boss with love and devotion because of that but she was not making eye contact with me because she was so busy staring and making googly eyes at Big One.  Hello!  I am here.  Right here.  Down heeeeeeerrrrreeeeeee....

And now Boss sits on a rock and calls it a photo opportunity.  I jumped up on the rock but did not like it one bit.  No I did not.  Boss did not understand why but she was trying to make me sit and have you ever put your wiener on a cold cold cold rock?  No?  Well, I do not recommend it.

When we got back to the camper, Player and Talker were in the same place as when we left them.  They both read a lot of books and did not move much.  They were very much happiness about this, especially because they ate many of the "pop-tart" things.  They are poisonous to dogs, they said, and so ate them all up themselves to save me from certain destruction.  Which I am not going to comment on and divert this caption to the forbidden topic.  But it certainly would flow nicely.  I am pretty much awesomeness at stringing many complex and complicated topics together in one smoothly flowing dialog.

Let us just say that when some of the eggs get slightly frozen in the cooler I get to eat them and it turns out I adore chomping them up.  With every inch of my ferociously dangerous teeth.  I should be banned from eating them.  What?  Oh.  Boss is getting very angry.  She is paying very much attention to my typingism.  "NO MORE," says Boss.  Okay.  So here is the foods on this plate:  deviled eggs, apples & dip of apples, crackers, pepper jack cheese, and jalapeno cheddar sausage.  This is what my peoples ate for dinner.  There was much and great happiness with this.

When it gets dark, Boss puts the very sexy headlamp on and makes yarn things.  I thought the "sexy" word meant something a little different than this, but I am merely a simple dog and probably do not understand quite a bit of things, actually.

It is snowing!  Boss is great excitedness about this, but Big One is the "practical" words and says it will not be the most funnest thing ever to put away the camper.  Because Boss is hardcore and Big One is only almost hardcore.

Oh look!  There I am, hiding in the van.  Turns out I am not hardcore at all.  And Player is almost hardcore because he has a cold and was sent to keep me company in the van of warm and dry.  And Talker, Big One, and Boss are the most hardcore and wet and cold and grinning like crazy Minnesota peoples in the snow.  Talker ended up getting so soggy and wetness and cold that he took off all his clothes in the van and changed into something dry.  I mean that Talker put on dry clothes, not that he actually turned into something else.  Like a... a... warm beach in Arizona.  What?  There is no warm beach in Arizona?  Perhaps you are mistaken and we should go look.

Boss says this is a great way to end the pictures of our trip to the One Thousand Lakes Lake.  It is snowing and my peoples are happy and the camper is (almost) ready for winter.  Apparently it has to be opened up again so it can dry out.  But Boss says that can be done in the driveway.  What?  I know.  Apparently this trip was just for fun after all.