Into the Wild

I am trapped in the back of the car, surrounded by soft bags, a hard cooler and a heavy blue bin that juts into my space. I hopped into the car without question, but now they zoom at me like a flock of those little black birds that swoop and dive and swarm the yard.

Where are we going?

How much longer will I be encased in this metal prison?

When will I get to eat again?

We slow and turn onto a wooded road, and I yelp in excitement. After a stop at a small shack and a growl at the man in the shack – how dare he talk to Walk Woman! – we drive deeper into the woods then turn into a small site. I barely wait for Food Man to open the door before I leap out of the car and stretch.

I breathe in spruce and fir, birch and cottonwood, the scents filling me with a peace that I can only – What’s this?

A DOG! A DOG WALKING BY!

STAY AWAY!

MY CAR!

MY PEOPLE!

That’s right. Walk on by, cur. Walk on by.

Food Man fastens my cable to the picnic table, and I stand watch as he sets up the billowy green travel house and Walk Woman arranges the cook stove and water on opposite ends of the table.

A CHILD!

TWO CHILDS!

AND A DOG! AND A WOMAN ON A BIKE!

ALERT! ALERT!

“Poppy, stop barking! Oh my god, get with the program. We’re camping. They’re camping.” Walk Woman takes my jaw in one hand and stares into my eyes, which I avert quickly. “Stop acting like no one can walk by. Cool it.”

I shake myself. I’m cool. Cool as creek water.

Walk Woman throws my bed down to the ground. I sniff it but lay on the gravel instead, placing myself closer to the road and potential threats.

A child rides a bike. A dog chases her.

A DOG!

I order the dog to STOP RUNNING, but he ignores me. HALT!

“Jesus, Poppy, just quit already.” Food Man grumbles. “This is why we don’t take you with us.”

Walk Woman sighs. “She’ll calm down.” She points a stare in my direction. “It’s camping, Poppy. There are always other people.”

Her face alights with brilliance. “How about we go for a walk? Give her the lay of the land?”

YES! A WALK!

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I put my nose to the ground and lead. They follow.

Many dogs have traveled this road. A golden lab. A border collie. No, two border collies.

Squirrels chatter from above. The scents rush at me. The mildewy scent of vegetation stewing in a rotting pile in the woods. A breath of frying onions. Exhaust from a truck that backs up in a thick cloud of black smoke.

I take it all in as we walk. And walk. A large park, we circle and weave through and around the roads and camping sites.

Yes, I remember. We’re camping. Camping requires flexibility.

I don’t like it. Where’s my comfy indoor bed? Where’s my treat ball? Where’s my –

SQUIRREL!

SQUIRREL RUNNING ACROSS THE ROAD!

We travel every road, scan every campsite. As we near our own site again, I mark the trees, setting up a large security perimeter. Arriving back at the site, I drop onto the gravel to keep an eye on the road, alternately dozing and roaring at any canine passers-by while Walk Woman cooks dinner, and Food Man starts a fire.

After dinner, I join them by the fire despite that it removes me from my watch. Family time is important, especially when it gets dark. I wager I’ve warned off all domestic creatures from our site and can only hope that the wild creatures have heard the warnings too.

All is well until it’s time to enter the green floppy house. I don’t want to.

“C’mon, Poppy.” Food Man motions for me to come close. I turn away and stare at the road. He calls me again, and I gaze, laser-like, on a small shadow that may or may not be moving. A mouse, perhaps. Or a rock.

“Poppy!” His hands reach for my collar, and I sink my head. “It’s bedtime.” He grabs hold of the collar.

I sigh and walk with him to the flapping entrance then turn around so I’m facing the road.

“Poppy! Turn around. Let’s go now. Into the tent.”

Do I see a figure on the road? Or a moon shadow?

He tugs on my neck, and I am compelled to follow. Once inside, I try to bolt back out before he can zip it.

I don’t like the floppy house in the best of times, its walls so thin the sounds around us echo through my head. And this year? A raised platform for their bed. It’s hard and metal, and I don’t like it. There’s barely enough room for me to turn around. Getting on the far corner of the bed with them, as I’ve been wont to do, is not possible without a leap.

Food Man zips us inside, but the outdoors beckons through the thin netting like a rotting bone in my bunker. I must get out. I nose the fabric and lean into it, pushing to break free.

“Whoa, dog, mellow out. Stop that.” Food Man’s voice is tight.

His tension ratchets my nerves. I whine and lean my head and shoulders into the tent. The walls bend but refuse to yield. Too tight. This is too tight.

“Maybe put her bed in that corner.” Walk Woman says to Food Man. Then, to me, “Poppy, get on your bed.”

The tent has two entrances. I rush from Food Man’s to Walk Woman’s, though it requires wedging myself between the wall and the foot of the bed. The tent’s walls and ceiling shake as I circle around.

I nudge Walk Woman, forcefully, in an I-demand-you-let-me-out kind of way. Then I put my nose to the tiny line where the tent would open if only Walk Woman would reach down and pull on that tiny metal zipper. The walls quake.

“She’s going to take the tent down.” Food Man’s voice is incredulous. “This is a bad idea.”

“On your bed, Poppy.” Walk Woman orders. She’s stern, her tone unyielding, unlike the tent walls. I whine.

Outside the night is cool. Inside, I pant.

LET ME OUT! I lower my nose to the zipper and breath. Loudly.

Food Man grumbles, and Walk Woman commands.

She wins, and I relent. I circle round and round on my bed, bumping into their platform and shaking the tent walls.

Finally, I lay down on the twisted lump of padding with a deep sigh.

I don’t like it. I can barely breathe despite the mesh walls. A rock rolls and a branch breaks outside the tent.

DANGER!

“NO! Poppy, quiet.” Walk Woman’s voice beckons me, and I scoot around the bed, walls shaking and ceiling quaking, to nose her face.

“Lay DOWN, Poppy.”

I circle in place to lay by her side, but there is no room. The thin fabric strains to contain me.

“Get on your bed!” Walk Woman’s voice loses its amused tone.

My bed is on the other side of the floppy house, but it’s difficult to turn around. The walls expand and bounce back as I lean into them, and the mesh stretches across my nose. I pause, breathe in and out, so close to the outdoors and freedom.

“On your bed!”

I snap out of it and return to my bed. It’s lumpy and misshapen. I dig at it, pull it one way then the other with my paws then collapse on top of it once I’ve twisted it into a thick pile. My hip knocks into the bed frame, and I groan.

Food Man growls. “Ridiculous.”

I remain tense, and I will Food Man or Walk Woman to open up the floppy door and let me out. Throughout the night, as they shift or move, I hop up and nudge them. Except for a barked command to “lay down!”, they ignore me.

The night passes slowly. Too slowly.

When daylight begins to seep into the sky and filter through the green fabric, I am up and ready to be let out. I circle around the foot of the bed from one exit to the other, bouncing off and straining against the pliant walls.

“Jesus Christ,” Food Man mutters. “I didn’t sleep at all.”

He’s up!

I rush to Food Man’s side of the bed and push into the mesh opening. I thrust a paw at it.

Food Man dresses. So slow! I nudge his hands helpfully, but he pushes me away.

I whine and stand nose to zipper then lean into the tent and push the fabric away from my body.

Food man curses in a long stream of words. “Stop, Poppy!”

“You stop!” Walk Woman’s voice is muffled, so she throws the covers off her head. “Stop being so loud.”

Food Man had been reaching for the door, but at the sound of Walk Woman’s voice he frowns and looks over his shoulder despite that she’s covered her head again. He mutters, and I lick his hand to remind him of the task here.

FOCUS! GET ME OUT!

Finally, he pulls the zipper, and I am first, always first. I break out of the green enclosure and into the dawn air where I celebrate with a long body stretch and a contented groan.

Food Man and I patrol the campground and see blurry-eyed people pushing babies and near-babies in their little mini-wheeled adventure vehicles. The tired people and Food Man nod at each other while I side-eye the little demons who sit near my level in their buggies.

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We return to the camp where Walk Woman is out and about, rustling around in the cooler and pulling things out in a frenzy.

“I forgot the half and half!” Her eyes look crazed, wide and alarmed. “I can’t believe it.”

“You can’t blame that one on me,” Food Man says. “Food is your responsibility.”

Walk Woman shoots him a dark look. He ignores her and clips me to the picnic table then gets my dish ready with breakfast. When he sets it down, I forget about the people drama and focus on the absolute best thing in life.

Food.

It’s gone too quickly, and I curl up on my bed to take a quick nap – last night was exhausting – while Food Man starts a fire. Walk Woman hands a hot mug to Food Man and they sit quietly and stare at the fire while they sip.

After breakfast we walk along the river then into the woods and up the rushing Kokanee creek. We see few people and no hounds, which is perfect. I don’t like to share. The trail. My people. Nothing.

If I have it, I want to keep it. And I will protect it.

We return for lunch. THANK YOU, WALK WOMAN!

After lunch, my peeps chain me to a spiral stake outside the tent. I keep watch while they doze inside and ignore most of the children and some of the canines, but I warn off any mutt who slows or sniffs too long on the edges of our security perimeter.

It’s not long before we’re all outside again. We spend a lazy afternoon under the sun tent, and an enjoyable evening by the fire. I neutralize all threats with barking and excellent body posturing – tail up, hackles high, chin lifted in defiance of all creatures who dare to move in our vicinity.

And then it’s bedtime, and I ignore, ignore, ignore the attempts to get me inside those floppy walls.

“I used to leave Max and Molly outside the tent at night. But they’d sleep in the vestibule. Maybe Poppy can sleep outside.” Walk Woman, hands on hips, studies the floppy house and the edges of our campsite. “If I put the stake here, she can curl up in the vestibule and still keep an eye on the road.”

Walk Woman sinks the spiral stake into the soft ground behind the tent then attaches the metal cable. She fastens my collar to the cable and backs into the tent but leaves the flap open and my bed in the entry way. I sniff my bed then study the situation.

I am part of the wild now, sleeping outside with the beasts of the forest. Am I to be cast off of the leash forever?

I’m confused. My place is with my people. I protect them, my food source. I am no wild beast, and the relegation to an outside animal is unwelcome.

What next? Will they ask me to hunt mice for food?

I curl up atop the pine needles and sap, my eyes fixed on the entrance to our site, ever vigilant. A man walks past, and I give him a sharp warning.

“Ah, shit,” Walk Woman says.

Yes, Walk Woman. I am vigilant! Walk Woman carries the scent of the mountains on her person. She knows the dangers of the wild and has entrusted me to protect and defend.

I launch a pre-emptive warning to all who may trod near our camp. STAY AWAY! NO TRESPASSING!

“This isn’t going to work,” Food Man’s voice is faint in the floppy house. I’d always thought camping relaxed my peeps, but Food Man sounds tired.

“Let’s give her another few minutes.” Walk Woman, always the optimist.

They settle down, and the breathing in the tent begins to slow. I see a mouse scurrying underneath the picnic table.

BACK OFF! MY CRUMBS!

Did I leave any crumbs? I can’t believe it. The mouse runs away, but I see a shadow under the branches behind the car.

GET AWAY! BACK AWAY FROM THE CAR!

Oh, it’s just a branch waving in the night breeze. My mistake.

“Poppy, come.”

Walk Woman has unzipped the entrance, and she’s beckoning me to enter. I plod towards her.

Don’t mind if I do.

I’m not a wild animal. I should sleep with my companions, close enough to touch them should they make a noise.

I lick Walk Woman’s hand as I enter and head towards the far corner where she’s laid my bed. Though there is still little space for me, I curl up and sigh, suddenly exhausted.

My duties are done. No trespassers will dare enter our compound. They have all been forewarned. I close my eyes and fall asleep.