A Staycation with Hunter

"I found my passion," said Giselle's sister one day, as we floated around in the warm sun, with our feet dangling in the water.

We all waited in anticipation. What would Vienna say? What would her passion be? Cross-stitching? Painting? Kick boxing? "VACATION." "Here, here!!" we agreed. And we raised our plastic glasses to the sky. Hunter and I feel the same way. And we are on vacation this week, while Sven is working. The two of us will be joined at the hip. But to be frank, Hunter is kind of a dick. He is not really resort or crowded beach material. A trip by plane would be out of the question, as he would demand to ride first class and the stewardess would have to lift him up into his seat because of some deep seeded fear of climbing up there himself. And I don't even like to imagine the chaos at customs. There is no way that Hunter would not stick his nose into the asses of the drug sniffing dogs. So, instead of an all inclusive resort, with fancy drinks on trays and exotic meals served in outside cafes, we will be on a staycation. We will be opening domestic beers all by ourselves and making casseroles with ingredients we shopped for on our own. And at night, we will curl up in our own beds at, Le Shack du Millie et Sven. We will take lots of little day trips and we will go to places such as this.   But that is okay with us. Because we share the same passion.

VACATION

And we also need to pick up ingredients for our casseroles. We understand each other completely. You see, I am a dog whisperer. And you see, Hunter is a dog yeller. If for any reason, I do not understand what he is trying to say the first time around, he will bark louder and louder and louder, until I get it. It was Monday morning. "What do you want to do this week?" I asked, while sitting out on the porch with a cup of steaming, black, coffee and Hunter was bitching about a squirrel on the other side of the driveway. He stopped barking and thought for a second. "I want to go for a walk," he says. "Of course you do.  But, what else?" "Dig some holes." [one_half][/one_half]

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"I hate it when you dig holes," I say.

"A dog should be able to do what a dog wants to do, while on vacation," he answers.

"Yes, but this place is already like a land mine with all of your craters."

[/one_half_last] "Well, what do you want to do, then?" he says. "I think I want to start working out. Get back into shape." I say. "On your vacation?" "Well, I never do it otherwise." "True," he answers. I give him a stare. Then he says, "I've got it. I'll be your fitness trainer. I'll take you on two hundred walks." "Hmmmm," I said. "I was actually thinking about biking. But, I'm worried about you and your tire fetish." He cocks his head, flips his ears back and has a look on his face like someone just smacked him with a two by four. "What tire fetish?" he says. "Um, well, you know how you come running out of nowhere, straight at the lawn mower and you grab the tires with your teeth?" "Yeah." "And you pick it up off the ground while the blades are spinning?" "Yeah." "While I am trying to mow the grass?" "Yeah." "And you scare the shit right out of me every time?" "Yeah." "That tire fetish." "That's a lawnmower fetish." "It is?" "Yes." "So, if I get my bike out, you won't attack the tires and it won't turn into a disaster like last year, when we tried jogging together?" "Of course not. And that was your fault for putting me on a leash." "Well, I thought you understood the concept." Hunter has a short attention span and he quickly changes the subject. "Hey, are you ever going to do something with that container of dead flowers over there? I don't think I can stand looking at it much longer." So, we decided to start out our stay-cay by going on a pumpkin run. It was our first little day trip. He runs to the car and stands by the door. I open it. He stands there. I wait. He stands there. "Come on Hunter," I say, "Just pick up your feet and get in the car." "No, I can't do it," he says. It's only a foot off the ground. My God, it's a KIA." "I can't." [one_half][/one_half]  

[one_half_last]"Hunter, I know you can climb onto that back seat. I've seen you half way up a tree before. Just pretend there is a squirrel in the car."[/one_half_last]

"Cannot do it," he says. So, as usual, I had to lift him in. "Jesus, you weigh a ton.  Could you at least bend your knees or something?  Come on. Help your mama out." He does not comply.

"Okay, Smile for the picture."

So we got a few pumpkins.

And we fixed up the dead flower box.

[one_half]And then I got out my bike.  [/one_half]

[one_half_last][/one_half_last] [one_half][/one_half]

[one_half_last]And then, while Hunter was busy digging a hole next to it, I hopped on.[/one_half_last]

And then Hunter caught up to me. And then Hunter ran ahead. 

And then Hunter disappeared.

But that is okay. What is important is, Hunter did not tell a lie. He did not come bursting out of the woods and attack my tires as the wheels were spinning and cause a 911 call. My apologies to you, Hunter. Have I ever mention that Sven is a self employed carpenter? Well, he is. And Sven is always coming and going and going and coming at Le Shack du Millie et Sven.   Sven claims one room in our house to the IRS as his office. That's a bold faced lie. Physically speaking, I suppose it is true. There is an office downstairs.  But, he doesn't use it for much of anything, other than throwing his shit in there when I start having convulsions because of all the crap on the table, the floor, the island, and the couch. Sven believes that our house is his office, which makes me believe that every room around here should be a tax deduction. I find business cards in the bathroom, phone numbers in the laundry room and invoices on our bed. Sven has so much paperwork to do all the time. And Sven needs quiet to concentrate. So, staying at this resort is kind of tricky. Hunter and I try to stay out of Sven's way, while he is conducting business. The sun is out.

This is exactly why we love vacation.

 

God damn it, Hunter. I asked you not to go in there.

 The first time I heard the term spontaneous combustion and learned that some people have mysteriously burst into flames, I was in my twenties. This bothered me tremendously.  How could it happen? Maybe it would happen to me. Maybe it happens to people who think about it. So, I would try not to think about it. But when you try not to think about something, you are actually thinking about it. Anyway, eventually I got over it. And then this week, I looked out the window and I saw this. And I thought, "Jeez Sven. You could have told me we were going to have a fire." And then a few minutes later, Sven drives in the driveway returning from somewhere and I thought, "Jeez Sven, that's pretty stupid.  You light a fire and you leave and you don't even tell your wife about it. You just let your dog be in charge?" "Millie," he says, as he walks in the door. "Did you start that fire?" OMG. I always knew it would happen. But, at least it wasn't me who'd burst into flames. You see, Sven's guys tore down a fence and put up a new one. They then dropped the old fence off on top of our bonfire spot. We'd had a bonfire the previous evening. Well, since we had a fire, we went to the fridge and got a beer. God forbid, one stand around a bonfire without a beer in one's hand. Hunter sat down next to us started digging a hole with his face. He is on vacation you know. A bumble bee bumped into Sven. "What is wrong with this thing?" says Sven. "They get goofy with the fermenting fruit this time of year." "We don't have any fermenting fruit." The bee bumped into Sven again. And then he bumped into me. "Maybe he has rabies," I joked. And then we slowly turned our heads and we looked over at Cujo, who's face was buried in the ground and a bunch of bees were circling what was left of his head. And then his head popped out of that hole. And then we all ran for the hills. And then Hunter dove into the ever loving pond. God Damn it, Hunter. Sven and I have been married for twenty-nine years. Like many married couples, dates have become few and far between. So, Thursday was a pretty special day. We had plans to meet our son, Rene, at his office and grab some lunch. I was all dressed and ready to go. And then, I heard barking. And then, I heard more barking. And then, I heard lots more barking. And then, I went outside and I saved a mouse from this bully, by dragging this bully into the house. It was not easy. Then I called Sven. "Are you almost here?" "What time is it?" AHHHHHHHH! I think Sven forgot we had a date. Anyway, a little while later we were in Madison. Rene showed us around and we ate lunch at an Indian Buffet.

And later, my sweet Sven said, "Hey, want to go for a ride?"

[one_half][/one_half] [one_half_last][/one_half_last]

Because he is such a romantic guy.

I broke the news to Hunter that it was already Friday, as I made my coffee. "It's okay Puppy," I said. "It ain't over." Saturday night Hunter had a slumber party. Bummer. It is now Sunday morning. Before I close this post and clean my house, because we forgot to do that this week. I would like to take a moment and review the valuable lessons that we learned. Because, life is all about learning.

[one_half]A) Never dig a hole with your face, just because you hear buzzing under the ground.[/one_half]

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B) Always save room for the Mango ice cream at an Indian Buffet.

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[one_half_last]C) Never pay your fitness trainer by the bark.[/one_half_last]

Apparently we are going for a walk before we clean this house.

God Damn it Hunter!