We are camping. This is how it goes: Tucker and I climb into the back seat of the truck. We sleep. We look out the window now and then. We sleep some more. Mr. & Mrs. Dreaming get to a gas station and Dreaming takes us out on leashes. Sniff-Sniff-Sniff. We are stuck on leashes and have to go where Dreaming wants us to go - well, except the time that Tucker pulled out of his collar. He had lots of fun running around the gas station, dodging cars and teasing people when he ran by them at Mach 1 Aussie speed. But it is fun to smell all those great smells, even though we can only go to the end of the leash and we can only go where Dreaming lets us go, and when she's willing to take us. I tell ya, it's not much different than a ball and chain! Then we climb back into the truck and sleep again. Finally we get to a place called a campground. Mr. & Mrs. Dreaming do some things with the house on wheels. They take us for a little walk. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Then we jump in the house on wheels and sleep some more.
I looked up "Camp" in the dictionary. Dreaming has one on her computer and I figured out how to use it. It says that a camp is a "place with temporary accommodations of huts, tents, or other structures typically used by soldiers, refugees, prisoners...." Hah! That's it. We are being held prisoner. That's why we are relegated to the house on wheels, or to walks on leashes, or to being cramped in the back seat of the truck. Geesh. What have we done to deserve this?
I needed to talk to Tucker about our situation. Mr. & Mrs. Dreaming thought I was simply initiating "play" last night. They were watching the Olympics and Dreaming was doing something on the computer. I casually sauntered over to Tucker, and to them it looked like I was simply chewing on Tucker's ear. Well, I was "chewing his ear off" in colloquial terms! I was asking him what he thought of this "camping" thing. Dreaming caught the last little bit of our conversation, I mean our "play", on video. I think I did a decent job of subterfuge. The humans don't have a clue about what we were doing. Anyway, Tucker thinks we are, "OK". He doesn't think we are being held prisoner, even with the constraint of the leashes. He reminded me that we have had all kinds of adventures - we've gone to a lake. We've waded in the Little Payette river. We've gone to breakfast in town. Maybe he's right, but I'll reserve judgment on the prison thing for now.