Tonight is Tuesday, and I have so much to tell you. First, I want to let you know what happens every morning. Then I will tell you what happened on Saturday and Sunday.
At about 5 o’clock each morning, Dad gets up, and I know he is up for good. I get off my place where I have been sleeping all night, stretch my legs, yawn a couple of times and greet Dad with sounds that I know he understands. Dad hits the switch for the coffee pot, puts on his clothes and his heavy jacket, and we go outside so that I can go “pee-pee” and “poo-poo.” First, I have to smell many places before I decide where to do these things. Then Dad and I go back into the RV, and Dad gets his coffee and starts working on his computer. I sit right next to him and lean against his leg while he gently pets me. This is what happens every morning, and I won’t tell you about it again.
Three days ago, when we were staying in Mayhill, Dad and I took a long hike from our RV to Curtis Canyon. I ran back and forth to Dad and explored all the plants and smelled everywhere on the ground. On the way up the hill, we saw three big cows, and I stopped in my tracks. They just looked at me and didn’t move. I had to decide what to do. Bravely, I took a step toward them, and all three cows started running away from me. I ran as fast as I could after them, and Dad was cheering me on because he wants me to be courageous. Two of the cows kept running, but one stopped, turned around and looked me right in the eye. I decided that I had better stop chasing him because he was a lot bigger than I am. I think my dad also thought that was a smart thing to do.
On our way back, we saw not only the same three cows but at least thirty more. They looked at me and didn’t move, and I decided not to run after them. I think I made a wise choice. Just before we got back to the RV park, I saw a whole herd of deer grazing by the side of the road. I chased all of them up a mountain, but I found out that I could never catch them. For some reason, I can never catch birds, ducks or rabbits. Maybe one day I will.
On Sunday, before Tyler and Dad left for their bike ride, I saw some ducks by a small lake near our RV park. I wasn’t on my leash, and I ran as fast as I could after them. I jumped over a barbed wire fence, and just as I got to them, they flew away. When Dad said, “Kipp, here!” I ran back to him as fast as I could, and when I jumped back over the fence I hurt my right front leg. I could tell that Dad was quite upset because he never wants me to be in pain. I limped around, but because I’m a dog, I don’t know what to do to help myself. I spent the day with Mom, and she kept me quiet all day so that my right wrist would begin to heal. Today, I am still limping, but my wrist feels better. Dad says it may be a week before I can take a long walk with him again.
Today Tyler and Dad biked from Carlsbad to the Texas State Line. On the way back, Dad scraped his right leg on a bridge railing, but I’m glad he didn’t fall off his bike and hurt himself more. When he came back, his right leg was bleeding, but, like me, Dad didn’t complain. Isn’t it great that Dad and I injured the same leg? I tried to lick Dad’s leg, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, I made him feel better by putting my head on his shoe. Mom took a picture so you can see what it looked like.
I feel sad that I won’t be able to take a long walk with Dad tomorrow or even the next day. Mom and Dad told me that I can take short walks but long ones will have to wait until I am not limping any more, which will mean my wrist is healed. I know I have to listen to them because I want all four of my legs to be strong so that I can walk and run and play.
Here is a photo of me lying on my Dad’s right foot so that his leg that he scraped will feel better. I love my dad, and I’m proud to be an American!