July 31, 2014 at 8:06 PM
Thursday, July 31, 2014 – 2nd letter from camp.
They are trying to kill me! Grandma got the idea to go hiking in this huge woods. It was a long way from their house and I kept thinking maybe they were taking me back home so I was very excited. But no. Just a forced march in the wilderness!
There were hoof prints from big animals they called horses, but I’m really glad I didn’t see one. I smelled their huge poops and that was enough for me. Peeeyyyeeewww. Anyway, we hiked up this huge hill, then down a trail with rocks and roots and I thought grandma would tip over and smush me! Grandpa kept saying, “Where is that bloody lake? I thought there was a lake here!” He was so sure, just like the little boy who sees a huge pile of poop and digs and digs because he is positive, with all of that poop, there must be a pony underneath. That’s how grandpa was about that lake. Except there wasn’t as much poop. Only that horse stuff sometimes. . .and mine, of course. Grandpa didn’t poop on the path. Neither did grandma.
I smelled a lot of stuff going down that hill. I’m sure I couldn’t even tell you what the animals must have looked like whose pee I smelled. Sadly there was nothing dead or disgusting to roll in. Maybe next time. In order to get out of this place we had to climb a mountain and I swear they didn’t have a clue where we were. Grandpa saw a red paint mark on the tree and said we were still on the trail, but grandma said it was probably the blood of the last person who tried to find their way out! Then she took such deep breaths I thought she was a vacuum cleaner and you know how I hate those things. I wondered if I’d ever even see you two again.
Oh! I almost forgot! Grandma kept saying, “Winnie, Winnie, look here, kiss-kiss-kiss!” trying to take my picture all the time. You will be happy to know I jumped around a lot so I don’t think she got much! I hate that! Why does she always have to take my picture?
When I saw their car I figured I had been saved so I ran towards it like a lunatic, almost dragging poor grandpa down. He had to pee in the porta potty, but I didn’t go in that disgusting place. I peed outside in the tall grass. It smells better. More tomorrow, if I live through Camp Grand-Ma-Pa!
Love, Your tired pup, Winnie