Elihu Entertainment

All through October we were struggling with puppet tasks, and Max wasn’t the only thing that was misbehaved. Hugh was at his crankiest, coping with work all day and trying to finish a new travelling theatre in the evenings; the girls were rebelling at having to spend so much play time recording Katie’s Halloween Adventure; the new computer was outwitting me at every turn; and every time I tried to print a new batch of promo letters, the operation went at a snail’s pace while the laptop burped and blipped and jammed on me.

Hugh was still making various attempts to carve the new Max puppet, though it was proving a challenge to get it right.  Max liked to watch this exercise. He seemed to think the various body parts were chew toys and seemed quite put out that he couldn’t have them.  Having a family marionette company was certainly not easy. We were encouraged to persevere when a call came from the Burnaby Village Museum booking us for Christmas, so at least we knew a good gig was in the offing, but everyone was feeling a little frayed.

We really needed some respite from Max’s terrible-two behavior, but none came. A weekend walk at the Fraser Foreshore turned into a nightmare when he unearthed and ate a revolting scungy work sock.  He literally gulped it down whole: mud, river water, pine needles and all! We rushed home to call the vet for advice and then spent the next hour with Hugh standing on the deck, talking on the phone to Dr. Zinger, while I administered to Max down on the grass. Dr. Zinger told us to feed Max hydrogen peroxide until he brought the sock up.  It sounded a bit brutal, but if that was the treatment, we had to try it.

The first spoonful produced nothing more than a licking of the lips and an eager face that asked for more. However, no sock came up.  Dr. Zinger ordered us to keep trying, so spooful after spoonful went down Max’s gullet. Poor baby! After a while, he actually had tears in his eyes.  It took at least half an hour before the sock came up and Dr. Zinger was released from the phone call. Talk about service beyond the call of duty. He didn’t even bill us for his time, though I suspect, from the way his receptionist always talked, the entire veterinarian office used to dine out on Max stories. Max was not impressed with this exercise. The look he gave me after finally regurgitating the sock was something to behold: “The lengths you’ll go to make me drop it!”

The hydrogen-peroxide lunch did not do anything to improve Max’s behavior. Later that day, we took a motorhome meals-on-wheels to Mum and Dad’s, and while we trekked in with plates of food, Max added to his misconduct by cornering a raccoon and chasing it under the porch. On Sunday, he was even worse. We had an abysmal time in the park due to the fact that he went AWOL and it took most of the walk to track him down.  He finally returned, eyes glittering, but we had no idea what he’d been up to. However, on the Monday, when I walked with Edna, I discovered the solution to the mystery of the missing Max.  Edna had also been walking in the park, accompanied by her mother and her mother’s dog, Neisha. They had been up at the top of the wooded trail, whereas we’d been down at the bottom of the park. Max had picked up Brandy’s scent and had decided to join his girlfriend. Then, having tracked her down at the top of the trail, he’d promptly attacked Neisha for daring to walk with ‘his’ Brandy. He’d also nipped Brandy when she’d tried to intervene.  Needless to say, after hearing this story from Edna, I went home and put Max in a long down, whereupon the sulky expression appeared as if to say: “But I was good today.” For the future star of our shows, he certainly needed to work on his image. We definitely weren’t going to manage Benjie, but hopefully there was something halfway between that and Fang, Wild Dog of the North.

Everyone returned safely from Saltspring, with Caroline and Hugh voyaging back in the Optimist, and Katie, Max and I following in the motorhome. Now it was time to get back to normal. Max and Brandy were reunited for their walks and very happy to see each other. School started for Hugh and the girls, though we still made time for fun things like a trip to the PNE and pro-D-day hikes around Sasamat Lake.  There were also dutiful activities to resume, such as going to church.  Sunday School had not yet started, so on our first visit to St. Alban’s, the girls had to sit with us through the service. Katie leaned against me after the first reading and asked:  “Is God’s name Peter?”
I said, “No, what makes you think that?” to which she replied:
“Well, after the readings, everyone always says, ‘Thanks, Peter God.’”
Katyisms were always so cute!

September also marked Max’s second birthday. No one ever deserved the title Terrible Two more. Katie had ordained that Max should share her birthday each year, so it was quite the occasion. Kate roared into our room first thing in the morning and leaped at the presents, and while she opened hers, Caroline helped Max open his.  Max sampled all his tidbits and was very happy with these interesting parcels, though he was quite indignant when we made him take his coated chew toy onto the deck.  He kept trying various ways to sneak it back in and couldn’t understand why I didn’t want brown slobbery stains on my white bedroom carpet. Finally when he’d chewed off all the dye, we let him bring it inside, though that was a mistake as the triumphant look on his face meant he figured he had worn us down and won the battle.  The day followed with a riotous party and sleepover for the children. My parents bravely joined us, which was particularly noble of my father since he was by now undergoing radiation, but Max was very grateful for his namesake’s presence, given the plethora of excited little girls running around the house. He was able to go to Gamma for protection.

Now that the holidays were over, Hugh and I were working hard on the puppet shows again. Three projects were in the works: an updated recording of Babes in the Woods, plus two new ones, The Birthday Bug and Guard Dog in Concert. The latter was Max’s official first show. New recording artists were being brought in, so I was auditioning men for the various roles. Bob Werner became our new Robin Hood, and Brian Leonard and Mike Scannell came on stream to take on character roles. I still had not found a voice for Max, but had been given a few leads, so was hopeful that I would find someone soon. Max was a little bewildered by all these visitors to the house, and tended to glower at the newcomers, belying his ‘Ho Hum Husky’ official title. He was also a little put out by having to sit for photo sessions, which were necessary for our new brochure since he was now to be part of the company. He sulked a bit, which showed in his official portrait, but the process was a great test of his ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ training.

Finally the brochures were ready, and on the day I was to pick them up from the printer, I took Max along for the ride. On the way, we stopped at Tisol where we were given a beautiful canister for buying a large bag of Iams.  Max was ecstatically happy to see the man from the store putting boxes of food and biscuits in his car.  He wagged his tail and elevated his nose, once again belying his ‘Ho Hum’ title, but at least he’d stopped glaring. Then we were off to Richmond to pick up the brochures, which were absolutely gorgeous. Max was most excited to see more gentlemen putting boxes in our car, and when we got home, he watched me carry every single one inside. However, he was very disappointed when the cartons only produced paper.

He was also disappointed the next day, since Edna had to take Brandy to the vet, so he had to go through his morning walk alone. He still looked sulky when we got home, so, thinking he needed some more outside time, I sat in the garden while I had my morning coffee and did the crossword. Since I was not actually playing with him, he looked rather bored, so I suggested he get a ball.  He looked about, couldn’t see one, so put his front paws up on the garden table and got down an apple.  When later, I recounted this to Hugh, he said: “That dog has a better understanding of Geometry concepts than some of my pupils!”

The next day, Brandy was back on duty, so she and Max had a lovely romp together in the woods. However, Max surprised us with a disconcerting new trick. To my horror, he burrowed his way into a culvert that went all the way under the path.  Edna and I called him frantically, trying to get him to back out, but as we stood on the path waiting for him to emerge, he came up behind us having gone all the way through. He looked very pleased with himself, but given the narrowness of the passage, he could have easily got stuck. Max had no idea how much he’d scared me. That night, I had had a nightmare about closed-in spaces.  When I woke up and told Hugh what had triggered the dream he ambled off to make tea, and as he opened the bedroom door I heard him say, “Bad dog!”  Poor Max came trotting in looking bewildered as if to say, “How could I have been bad yet.  I’ve been asleep!”

Max soon got used to life on the island, but once the novelty wore off, his behaviour began to deteriorate again. One morning, Hugh and I took him for a walk to Ganges.  The trip down was delightful, as was the stay in town. We ate breakfast at Shelly’s overlooking the water.  Max, utterly content, sat under the table and ate tidbits.  But when we walked back, this time exploring a different route, Max took off after a deer and left us bellowing and panicking for fifteen minutes until he finally crashed back, so exhausted he could hardly stand.  It was a slow walk home, with Max alternately laying down, vomiting or suffering from diarrhea.  He was so worn out, we actually thought he might have a heart attack.  We stopped at the end of Dean road to request a bowl of water from the home of one of Dennis’s friends, and we remained in the shade until our naughty dog was ready to proceed. Max was still wobbly after a drink and a rest, but at least we were able to make it home.

The rest of the day was more serene. After a short shopping trip in town, we set out on the Optimist to pick up Hugh’s crab trap.  The result was one giant starfish and five undersized crabs, so back they all went.  Once back on shore, we drove to Stowell Lake for a swim; then returned to find there was a message from Josie to say she was on her way home and would see us in the morning. In the night, there was a bad storm, with the rain thundering on the metal roof of the motorhome, but the morning was clear and it was lovely to see Josie and enjoy morning coffee together.

We continued to explore the island throughout our stay. Josie told us of many more spots to visit, and I particularly liked the Fulford area where we visited the churches.  By the lychgate of the Anglican church, there was a gorgeous oak tree that had been planted to commemorate the crowning of King George. Josie also introduced me to cryptic crosswords, something that later became a lifetime addiction. It was great fun attempting the crossword together, although neither one of us was able to figure out the special trick of the week.   The next day, we visited the craft fair, then spent the evening playing Scrabble, having abandoned our quest to solve the last bit of the crossword. However, that night, I was awoken by Sally, who was barking at a cat who had strayed onto the property. I woke up with a start, sat up hurriedly and banged my head on the roof of the camper.  Two seconds later, I had figured out the puzzle trick that had eluded us! Living proof that the saying, Knock some sense into her, has some foundation in reality.

Josie also introduced us to the delicious filo and custard dessert, Baklava. However, it took several attempts for us to actually try it. On her first night home, we went to dinner at the Greek cafe, eagerly looking forward to dessert since Josie had recommended it so enthusiastically. However, by the time we had finished our meal, the Baklava was all sold out. We made several more attempts to sample the dessert. On one occasion, we arrived at the café to be told that the Baklava wasn’t ready, but to come back around three.  We went home to fetch the girls, but later, when we returned, it hadn’t been made after all.  However, the owners very kindly treated us to a different dessert on the house. We had no success until the final day of the holiday when we all went out to dinner again. The proprietor greeted us like old friends and was very relieved to finally present us with Baklava, freshly made that day.

The next morning, Katie and I saw Hugh and Caroline off on the boat.  Once they’d left, we took Max for a walk  around the trails.  His nose was twitching, something that always meant trouble, and sure enough, we had to leash him after he found his way to a fenced field where sheep were grazing.  Thank the Lord for barbed wire – otherwise, I hate to think what the result would have been. Probably a lot of mutton and one dead dog once the farmer saw what he was up to.

Relieved to have avoided disaster, we went back to town and headed for Toni’s. Morning coffee turned out to be great fun, for at the next table were two friendly locals, one of whom had two dogs and two newborn piglets!  Needless to say, Katie was enchanted with these, but Max simply didn’t know what to make of them, especially the little runt who was watching him curiously.   Was it a dog? Was it a rabbit? He was quite bewildered. Finally the runt made its way over to visit him. By this time, Max was quivering with excitement, but as he put his face down towards the tiny piglet, it stuck its snout against his nose and kissed him.  Max jumped as if he’d been stung. Everyone howled with laughter, but Max was one very embarrassed dog. The piglets didn’t have to worry about our Big Bad Wolf. He was as sheepish as the inhabitants of the nearby field.

Saltspring was lovely. There were fields with hedgerows that had the nostalgic charm of the English countryside. There were trails where Max could go for a run with Bobo and Sally, and he proved remarkably gentlemanly realizing that his new friends were elderly ladies and not up to roaring about the way he liked to. There was also a bay where the dogs could swim. There was a pub where the girls could sit in the garden with Max while we adults went onto the deck for drinks. There was a lovely coffee shop in Ganges that we could walk to for our morning caffeine fix. And wherever we went, it was pretty and picturesque.

Josie was still in Vancouver, so Dennis was our host for the first part of the holiday. He seemed to quite enjoy having us there, particularly as we were cooking full English breakfasts which we would share. Dennis would help himself to bacon with a big grin and a warning ‘not to tell Josie’. Dennis was a helpful guide, filling us in on what there was to see around the town and cheerfully driving us to various locations if there was something we needed. Max liked his new host, especially as he came complete with dogs, so everyone was happy.

One day, though, Max was not a happy dog. We had walked the girls to the video store, then headed round to the bakery.  Outside the store, a pickup truck was parked, and in the back was a twin Max. When we walked over for a closer look, the owner informed us it was a female Samoyed cross, and on closer inspection we could see it was smaller and fluffier than our sturdy mutt. But for poor Max, it was love at first sight.  The Samoyed hung over the gate while Max stood up on his hind legs. The Samoyed showered him with kisses, whereupon Max went down into bow position and made growly come-and-play noises.  He just couldn’t understand that she wasn’t allowed to jump down and become part of his entourage, and he was terribly sad when we had to leave.   Poor fellow, he sulked for the rest of the afternoon.

Between the dog walks, coffee stops and fishing excursions, the latter, of course, for Hugh, we spent quite a bit of time exploring the island. A drive up to the appropriately named Mount Maxwell took us to a magnificent viewpoint where we could see out over the island. One day, we drove around to Fulford where we passed two pretty country churches and an equally pretty inn.  Afterwards, we went out to Ruckle Park and walked along the coast and through the sheep farms.  This, however, proved problematic. Max was leaping with excitement at all the animal smells and we had to keep him leashed the entire time.  Our wannabe sheep dog didn’t understand that the goal of herding sheep wasn’t to end up with mutton. This was one occasion where Max’s wolf genes surged to the fore.

Another day of exploring resulted in a boat trip to Montague Harbour on Galiano.  We moored at the marine park and walked all the way around the point. Here Max did have a nice run, and even managed to behave among all the sightseers and hikers. He swam off the rocks and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Then he hopped back in the Optimist, and nose to the wind, voyaged back to base with a big smile of contentment on his wolf-like mask.

He was less impressed, though, on the day we went for a trail ride. Max had finally figured out that horses were bigger than he was, and he sulked and growled in the car while Hugh dropped me and the girls at the ranch. The girls were thrilled to find we were to ride a horse family that spanned three generations, but Max was quite relieved to find that his master shared his wary attitude toward horses and did not intend to stay. So Max spent his afternoon, tagging along while Hugh did errands. Of course, he was probably hoping to meet his pretty Samoyed again, but sadly, she never reappeared. So much for Dog’s Life, Deluxe. This was the Dog’s Life in the conventional sense. But then, the wily old fellow had Brandy at home, so what could he expect from a holiday romance.

Max was happy to have an interlude at home.  He was particularly glad to see Edna and be reunited with Brandy, although both dogs seemed a little shy at first. Max wagged his tail rather tentatively, probably remembering how standoffish Brandy had been when he had gone away the previous year. For most of the walk, they trotted along, parallel and harmonious, if not interactive. However, on the way back, Max challenged Brandy to a frolic, and after a moment’s hesitation, she started to play with him.

The interlude at home was supposed to be brief, as we were intending to leave again to visit our friends, Josie and Dennis, on Saltspring Island. However, our best laid plans promptly ‘Gang aft agley’ since I came down with a bad infection and Max trod on something and developed an inflamed foot. Poor Hugh had to get up and make his own tea on his birthday, since I was laid up in bed. However, the girls came to the rescue, brought him his presents and made him breakfast.

I was completely out of it for the rest of the day.  I dozed and dreamed. I couldn’t focus on reading.  I couldn’t do the crossword.  Drugs and the fever completely froze my brain. Still, to quote another common saying: It’s an ill wind that blows no-one any good. In my befuddled state, I let my eyes wander to the classified ads where I saw a heading:  Mary Poppins, Where are you?  It was an ad for a nanny, but it gave me the beginnings of an idea for a story. I thought of possible sinister connotations and filed the item away in my notes, after which I gave up and let the fever run its course.  Years later, I came across the note again, and ultimately, the idea became a story of that name in my book, The Beacon. Later still, I rewrote it as a play titled Shadow of Murder which was produced in 2011

As Max and I struggled along, both on antibiotics, Hugh decided we had recovered sufficiently that we could embark on the next trip. This involved Hugh cruising across to Saltspring in the Optimist, while Caroline, Katie, Max and I brought the motorhome and came over by ferry. This was not the greatest plan, as once I had driven Hugh to Ioco and seen him off, I was left to cope with the chaos of packing and getting the girls organized. Since I was still sick, Max was still sore and cranky, and Katie promptly came down with a fever too (all of which was complicated by a mass of phone calls and unexpected and unwanted visitors), by the evening I felt like jumping off a cliff.  Instead, optimistically, I set my watch for six and went to bed in the hope that sleep would make it all seem better.

The next morning was hectic. I leaped out of bed when the alarm went off, raced about loading the camper, putting out garbage, setting timers, rousing and feeding girls, and medicating Max. We managed to leave by seven-fifteen, stopping briefly at the Derby woods so Max could have a bit of a trot; then we headed for the ferry.  The traffic was dreadful getting out of New Westminster, and then, when we arrived at the ferry, an accident had occurred on board, and we had to sit in scorching heat for a solid hour due the accident that had ground everything to a halt mid-operation.  By this time the camper was so hot that I had to stay below with Max for the ferry trip to keep everything open and aired out.  The ferry sped and made up some time, but it was still almost a three-hour trip. Needless to say, I had a blazing headache when we got to Saltspring, poor Kate felt rotten too, and Max was glowering like the Big Bad Wolf.

But how the beauty of Saltspring and the prospect of rest worked its magic once we were there. We rolled into Dennis and Josie’s property and found Hugh waiting, along with Dennis and his two dogs. We sat in the shade of the garden and gradually the day improved. Max was hilarious when he saw that he was the guest of two older lady dogs. Bobo and Sally were very dictatorial with him and he was suitably abject in their presence. He bowed and scraped and longed for their approval. So much for the Alpha male with an attitude!

Once we’d recovered, we cleaned out Dennis and Josie’s small trailer which they used as a guest house. Once done, the girls had their own ‘little house’, and by the end of the afternoon, it was sparkling and habitable. Kate even had her Dalmatian quilt and Mr. Edward tucked on her bed.  Definitely not a ‘pigloo’ and we cautioned them that it should stay that way. Then we all went out to dinner at a seafood restaurant on the water. A heavenly end to a hellish day, and we didn’t even have to worry about Max, because he had Bobo and Sally to keep him company.  Saltspring promised to be yet another ‘dog’s life deluxe’ for our lucky hound.

It was great to be back in the Cariboo. After the noise and confusion of the Okanagan campsites, we finally enjoyed a peaceful night where the only sound was the loon on the lake. The next morning, the temperature was lovely and cool. We rustled up a camp breakfast—scrambled eggs and Prem—although the youngsters were not impressed with the bacon substitute. We explained that this was what people ate during WWII, but it didn’t make them like it any better. After breakfast, we took Max to Treasure Island, and the rest of the day passed with walks, swimming and lazing by the campfire.

The rest of the holiday was a lovely combination of hiking, swimming, games and boating.  There was a games room with pool and ping-pong tables, which the youngsters really enjoyed. There were also pedalos, which were an interesting novelty, and some of the other boaters introduced our crew to tubing.  Max was in clover too. There were two islands where he could run free, and fields where he could walk on his long line. Caroline and Andre became so proficient with our boat that they were able to take him for trips to the island by themselves. What a happy dog he was. No sooner would he be back on shore after a hike with me and Hugh than he was whistled back into the boat and taken for a ride with the kids.

On one occasion, however, his trip to Treasure Island did not turn out well. On a previous walk, the treasure he’d unearthed had been a deer bone. He was so attached to this, that he’d carried it round the island and hidden it when it had been time to return to camp. Sure enough, the next time we went back to the island, he retrieved his bone from his secret cache and paraded round the island with it locked in his jaws. When we reached the rocks where he liked to swim, Hugh threw wood for him as usual, but he was so reluctant to part with his bone that he swam out with it in his mouth.  Then he let go of it to grab the wood, but of course, the bone sank to the bottom of the lake.  Poor Max was desolate. He spent the next five minutes swimming in circles with a tragic look on his face, trying to find his bone.  He finally wearied and came back to shore, but he was a most disconsolate dog for the rest of his walk.

Predictably, when Max was out of sorts, his behaviour deteriorated. The next time Caroline and Andre took him to the island, they came back and reported that he’d been bad.  He’d growled at two other people who were daring to walk on HIS island.  Then he’d run off to chase ducks and refused to come when he was called. Poor Caroline and Andre finally returned to the boat, dreading coming back to tell us that they’d lost the dog, but when they reached the cove where the boat was pulled up on the shingle, there was Max sitting in the stern, waiting for them to return and looking at them as if to say, “So what happened to you guys?” They were not impressed. Needless to say, it was leash and timeout when he returned to camp.

Max continued to enjoy his holiday. He loved the long rambles across the fields. He stole logs from the campfire cache and spent hours shredding them. He found a deer skull on Treasure Island to replace the lost bone, and this one he managed not to lose. We took him exploring by the beaver dam at the end of the lake, which he though a great adventure, except when he fell into the reed-lined channel and had a hard time splashing his way out.

He enjoyed the fun when two young boys in a canoe cast us as natives with a wild animal in their imaginary adventure, and Hugh obliged by bombing them with an old soccer ball and a grenade-sized plastic toy that had been washed ashore. Max also liked the evenings in the games room, where he could watch us play ping pong and try to catch the balls if they went astray.

I enjoyed the outdoor activities, when we could fit them in between feeding four constantly hungry teens and pre-teens, but I also liked the leisurely afternoons when I could read at our campsite. However, I did use some of the time to review a script that I had written. This was a manuscript developed from my “To Catch an Actress” story.  At that time, getting it finished was a challenge, let alone getting it produced. I had no idea that, renamed as Casting for Murder, it would later become so popular with community theatre groups that it would have productions in several different Canadian provinces.

Finally, sadly, it was time to strike camp and go home. Andre packed up his pup tent and the Piglettes took down the Pigloo. Everything was loaded into the camper, Max being the last of all to come aboard. Then it was back to the Lower Mainland, road work, traffic tie ups and a long slog along the highway until we reached home. Once again, I thought how nice to be a dog. While the rest of us, exhausted as we were, toted in our gear and reorganized the home front, Max hopped out, wagged his tail to see his familiar garden, and promptly found a comfortable spot to curl up and have a sleep. A dog’s life—the deluxe version!

Camping did not make for good sleeping. In the early hours of the morning, a tow truck came to move a trailer parked beside the road, so we had to endure flashing lights, yells and crashing chains for forty-five minutes. Max, like his daddy, woke up, saw what was going on, and went right back to sleep, but I lay there with shattered nerves and was so exhausted that I spent the entire next morning in a deck chair.  Max was not impressed. However, after lunch we drove to the creek and walked him up to the waterfall. Then, on the way back, we stopped in town for frozen yoghurts and bought Max one too, which he ate whole, eyes bulging with greed.

The next day, I was still unwell from the heat and my dose of beaver-fever. Max was extremely bored by his useless owner, so much so that, when I went into the camper for a moment, he stole the hair band that I’d left on my deck chair. When I came back out, he was in the process of burying it by a tree.  He had dirt all over his nose and looked extremely guilty. He knew he’d been caught in the act.  In the afternoon, since dogs were banned on most of the Peachland beaches, Hugh and I took him to the other side of the lake and cruised around Rattlesnake Island. It was barren desert country, but huge Michaelangelo clouds were  spread across the end of the lake and the sky that framed them was equally Sistine Chapel blue. It was very beautiful, in spite of the heat billowing off the rocks. Max, naturally went for a swim, but the water was choppy and he kept submerging his nose and coming up sputtering. We took him ashore and he wanted to go exploring, but I was nervous about him finding a rattlesnake, so kept him close. Then we boated back to camp where we made the girls clean up the pigloo, since the resort owners were continually giving us dirty looks. Then I read in the evening with Max at my feet while our little movie queens watched a double feature in the outdoor ‘cinema’.

On Sunday, Caroline and Andre announced that they wanted to go to church. Candace decided to go too.  All three of them were intrigued by the tiny local Anglican church. Katie announced that she had no intention of going to church when she was on holiday, so she accompanied me and Hugh as we took Max for a walk by the waterfall. Once again, he made his presence known, splashing in the water and then shaking all over another couple who were sitting on the rocks. We picked up the others after the church service and stopped for snacks on the way home. This time, Max managed to lick his ice cream decorously for a moment or two before gobbling it down

The following day was Caroline’s birthday, so we put her presents on the picnic table first thing in the morning.  We’d wrapped her gifts in newspaper, but had used the comic section to create some degree of festivity.  Caroline opened her loot while we made breakfast.  She laughed at Max’s card, made a face at Katie’s gift mug (Bad Hair Day), oohed at the money we’d put in our card, looked pleased at the make-up Candace gave her and melted over Andre’s ring.  After breakfast, we gave Max his run by the waterfall, then drove to Kelowna so the kids could celebrate Caroline’s birthday at the water park. On the news, we heard that there was a massive fire in Penticton, so we were very glad that we’d cancelled our reservation there. While the youngsters enjoyed the water park, Hugh and I did some shopping, then went to the beach and found a shady spot to eat a take-out dinner. As we ate, I found myself flicking what I thought were white bugs off me, but then I realized the flecks were ash floating up from the fire in Penticton.  We picked up our crew at five and drove back to Peachland, all by now exhausted.  The news of the fire was grim. There was a fear that lightning in the night would generate more fires and one area of Penticton was being evacuated. When we reached camp, the bottom of the clouds over the mountain were red, eerily reflecting the forest fire, and we could hear thunder in the distance. Later, a spotty rain started, but the heat was still unbearable. Hugh and I looked at each other with the same thought bouncing telepathically back and forth. Why did we ever leave the Cariboo? The next thought came equally quickly. Why not head back tomorrow?

Feeling like convicts preparing to bust loose, we got up at four-thirty in the morning and tip-toed about getting organized to leave. We woke the kids at six, then rushed about striking camp.  By the time we left, the sun was beating down, but it was early enough that there was a cool breeze coming in the window as we drove.  We cut over through Merritt and down the winding road to Spence’s bridge.  It was hot through Cache Creek, but nothing like what we’d endured in Peachland.  We stopped at 100 mile for provisions; then, less than two hours later, we arrived at the Fir Crest Resort on Lac La Hache.  It was heaven!  Sunny but pleasant, with the campsite right on the lake.  There was a lovely games room for the youngsters and a huge site, which was perfect for walking Max since it was all fields and rural lanes with long grass and wildflowers.  As soon as we were settled, we took Max out to Treasure Island.  He sniffed all the way round the trail, clearly thrilled to be back there and running free. Later that evening, we sat by the campfire and looked at the lake.  The surroundings were beautiful; the people were friendly; the dogs abounded and were welcome. Finally, we turned in. As Hugh and I settled down for the night, we heard Caroline making loon noises from her tent to replicate the sounds coming from the lake.  After a while, a laryngitic loon call emerged from the pup tent where Andre was tucked down. Shades of Rosemarie and the Indian Love Call? Hugh and I chortled heartily, but Max blinked, cocked one ear, looked at me as if to say, “Humans are crazy,” then tucked down with a blissful sigh and went to sleep. Back in the Cariboo. Bliss indeed.