On to the next thing with dreams of a soaking wet dog

Home just days from our week-long bicycling vacation, my wife delivered the news gently over a cup of morning coffee.

“I’m fairly certain you’ve forgotten about this, John, so I’m just going to rip off the bandage right now,” she said, adding a dramatic pause. “Remember months ago when we promised my friends we’d go camping? That’s this weekend.”

My forehead hit the table with a thud. Travel is truly one of my least favorite things. I know what you’re thinking. “Geez, for a guy that doesn’t like to travel, you sure run around a lot.”

While that may seem to be the case, the reality is I travel very little but write about it an awful lot. I figure you folks are more likely to enjoy a tale of adventure rather than a weekly description of how I mow my lawn, water my garden and walk my dog around the block. Those tasks, however, are the bread and butter of my existence. I am a genuine homebody at heart, and there is really no place I’d rather be on a summer evening than watching the bats whirl over my own backyard from the quiet comfort of my patio swing.

Kristin is decidedly not a homebody, and for as much as I enjoy relaxing at home, I enjoy being married even more. You can easily conclude how I was about to spend my weekend. To her credit, Kristin did offer an exciting detail that raised my enthusiasm considerably.

“Caroline and Mike are bringing their new puppy along,” she said. “Frankie is going to have the time of his life with Butch!”

While it’s nice to see my wife happy, it’s utterly awesome to see our mutt Frankie living life to the fullest. The idea of a weekend-long playdate for the pup made it impossible to walk away. Furthermore, our location along the sand and pebble shore of Lake Erie offered the prospect of coaxing Frankie into doing something he had never truly done before — swim.

For a dog whose DNA proves a full quarter-share of Labrador retriever, Frank doesn’t seem to have a drop of “water dog” in him. In fact, the whole idea of getting wet seems to repulse the pup. He dodges raindrops, leaps over puddles and refuses to walk in wet grass. As you might imagine, none of this sits very well with his river-floating, lake-swimming, duck-hunting adoptive father (me).

The one circumstance that’ll actually get this dog wet is when he’s so distracted by the other activities that he has no idea he’s even in the water. This happens most frequently when we’re off in the woods hiking. As Kristin and I carefully pick our way from rock to rock to cross a flowing stream, Frank will trot enthusiastically alongside, oftentimes right up to his belly, appearing totally oblivious to his situation. The thought of what’s ahead — and the hope that it includes something utterly disgusting to smell, taste and possibly roll in — drives him onward without pause.

My dream of the weekend to come hinged on the idea that Frank would be having such a good time clowning around with his new puppy friend that he’d inadvertently find himself up to his eyes in the Great Lakes. Come back next week and we’ll see if that scenario plays out.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email Johnatjlorson@alonovus.com.