When the family started packing up the truck again last week, I wasn't sure whether I should be excited to see where we were headed or cautious to see if my exit from the truck would take place at the pokey. Thankfully for me, this was an all-play trip. The whole way Dad would turn around every so often and say, "We're goin' to the beach, Gussy!" The beach. I know that place well, I thought. Our trip last fall was terrific, so I was getting pumped up the whole way . . . between naps.
We made a few pit stops - some were fun and some were not. Watching the family eat their lunch in front of me - not fun, although I am glad they finally wised up and figured out that me, eating, and car trips do not end well. Watching Big Brother sprint through a washed out parking lot in a thunderstorm towards a Hardee's on a pee emergency - very fun. Even Mom and Dad had a chuckle, but I won't ever tell.
We arrived with much excitement, and when that truck door opened, I was ready! I stuck my head out - only to be greeted by an oppressive wall of heat and humidity that I thought might push me back into the truck. "Are you sure we didn't drive to SE Asia?" I asked Mom. "I heard it's pretty hot and humid there, too."
"Get out," she said, totally unamused.
The family worked hard to get all our stuff in the rental house, which was - according to Mom - a hot box. Dad wondered if there was something wrong with the air conditioning, and they both groaned at the prospect of that. I had to agree on the heat, especially upstairs where we were supposed to sleep. Everyone was sweaty and miserable. "Why are we doing this again?" I asked.
"It's tradition," Mom replied.
"We have lots of summer beach traditions," Big Brother interjected, while trying to pretend he was too hot to keep unloading the truck. "Biking for bagels, tossing the baseball around, swimming in the ocean, playing mini golf -"
"Get back out there," Mom cut him off, still not amused, sending him back out to the truck for more stuff. "Plus," she said to me while she was filling up my water bowl, "we're not at work, and we're together - with each other and with my family."
Mom's family. Mom has 10 brothers and sisters. Even in dog families, that's a lot. Mom is the youngest (and most beautiful) - Mom, stop! This is my blog, and you can't just insert comments! - and that means Big Brother has cousins as old as some of his friends' dads, and the kids of his cousins are his age. It's kind of weird, we know. But that's the tradition - they gather at the beach every July in the same place, like they have for nearly 40 years. Not all 11 of them, but usually 7 or 8 plus their own families, and that can add up to a lot of people, many of whom I don't think I know.
Mom opened the back door to hang a clothes line on the deck, and what do you think I found out there? The ocean! Oooo I love that beach. My tail wagged and I jumped around. "Don't get excited," Mom said. "The sand is too hot for your little paws right now. I'll take you tonight or early tomorrow morning." Whomp whomp. "But you can sit on this nice, fenced in porch and enjoy the view!" Yay. Looks like my beach traditions are starting to look a little different than everyone else's.
Tradition # 1. Barking at the people walking by on the public beach access right next to our house. Mom and Dad decided to invest in dog training treats to try to curb my yapping, mostly so as not to disturb the neighbors. At first, I could go along with it. I'd bark, they'd say, "No, Gus," so I'd stop and go get my treat. But after one day of that, I decided startling the folks on the walkway was waaaaay better than any stupid little crumb of a treat. I could hear their footsteps coming on the wooden walkway, so I'd hustle silently over to our deck's railing, and wait for just the right moment. "Bark, bark, bark, bark, bark!!" They'd jump about two feet! 😂😂 Some would recover and keep going, some shot me dirty looks, a few barked back, and one grumpy old man yelled, "Shut up!" Mom was offended, but I was delighted. Score one for Gus! And for some, my charm was too much, and they said . . .? You guessed it! "Awww! Look at the cute little dog!" Oh, yeah. Who needs training treats?
Tradition # 2. Fake chasing rabbits. Who knew feral rabbits were a thing at the beach? Cats, ok, but 🐇🐰? On Day 3, the house finally cooled off some, and everyone was happier - until Mom tweaked her back. Then everyone was sad - except me. No, wait! Mom! Come back! I need your typing and spelling skills! Let me explain. Of course I was sad that Mom was hurt and in pain. But her on the DL meant more walks with Big Brother. Mom would not let me pull on the leash to jump around and scare the rabbits, but you know how brothers are. Even with Mom calling after us from the porch, "Don't let him yank the leash and try to chase the bunnies," we did some fine fake rabbit chasing, me pulling the leash and jumping, and those bunnies running scared! It was the secret code of brothers when Mom can't walk or check up on you!! Then on the last day, while my humans were packing the truck to leave, Big Brother let me out on the front porch with him, where there is no gate. Imagine everyone's surprise when I showed the bunny living in our beach house's yard what real bunny chasing looks like! Unfortunately, I was the only one who thought it was a good idea. Real rabbit chasing threw everyone else into a state of panic that I wasn't coming back, after I disappeared under the public access. Come on, people. I've been trying to get in the truck for like an hour now; I'm not leaving you. Needless to say, I was not allowed on the porch anymore, but between us, it was so worth it.
Tradition # 3. Making friends. On Wednesday, the whole gang came to our house for sangria night, and I got to meet everyone! Even that tall, skinny guy who lets me out sometimes at our house back home was there! "Fancy meeting you here!" I said.
"Gus, you're my canine cousin. Of course, I'm here."
Huh. And I just thought he was a random guy we had over sometimes. But the best friend I made all week was Gus-Gus Guy. Anyone worth their Disney salt knows Gus is the best mouse in Cinderella, and his friends affectionately call him Gus-Gus. (Disney also has a movie about a donkey named Gus, but I don't want any comments about me being a you-know-what.) As with mouse Gus, so it was with my new friend, who was staying next door. He was real polite and asked Mom and Dad the first day of it'd be alright for him to pet and talk to me, and they said sure. So, every day, he'd lean over the gate multiple times and say, "Hey, Gus-Gus!" and scratch me behind the ears. I only wish he was our real next door neighbor at home, 'cause I could get used to that!
Tradition # 4. The beach. This one speaks for itself - splashing in the water, barking at the birds, eating the foam! This is the life!
The last night, Mom and I were sitting on the top deck watching the waves roll in under the stars. "Was it all worth it?" I asked.
"Was what worth it?"
"All the packing and unpacking, the bike riding, the swimming, the back tweaking, the fish eating -"
"Oh, yeah. It's all way worth it."
"Why? Some parts of the week didn't seem so good - the hot house, the sore back, Big Brother's sunburned face, and all that."
"We're making memories," Mom explained. She said that we're doing things now that she did 30 years ago, and she hopes that 30 years from now, Big Brother will be doing those same things with his kids and their cousins. She said that's what traditions are all about - creating memories and leaving a little piece of yourself along the way that others pick up and take forward with them, keeping the traditions - and the memories - alive.
I don't think I'll be around in 30 years to see how it turns out, but I'm thinking good thoughts for Mom's traditions. And I hope wherever you are, you're making your own memories, starting traditions, because Mom's right. I might not have had the best week ever, but I've got my own summer beach memories and traditions now, and I'm gonna take them back home til next year, when we'll do it all over again. See you bunny rabbits then!
Comments