Ah-h-h…the campground. It’s quieter this year than I ever remember it being and this is our fourth year. An occasional vehicle drives by – either looking for a camping spot or a tenant returning to their site. It’s close to noon, no noise, other than a distant voice carried on the breeze or a crow making a small amount of racket as it announces to the world that it’s alive and here.

This area used to be my home. I lived in and around Sandpoint at different times in my life and most of those memories are filled with emotional pain and death. One of my husbands, my mother, one of my brothers, and a brother-in-law are buried here. It was all a life time ago and only bothers me when I’m going through the ‘shake out all the memories mode’. And when I’m in that mode, I’m ready to cry…so I do. Being here doesn’t even drag out the old memories and I rarely go to the gravesites. I honor those I love with warm thought and life not a plot of land with a marker on it…but that’s my way of dealing with it.

Funny but when I lived here, I never visited this campground…there’s even a day use area for picnic/lake activities. The campground is about 12 miles out of Sandpoint and the nice part of having lived here previously is that I’m very familiar with where everything is and how to navigate the highways and byways if I want to go anywhere in particular. While it’s wonderful to be here, I could never live here again. That quiet, laid back, let’s go shovel snow so we can get out of the driveway just doesn’t do it for me. And there’s no place to play poker that I know of, except the Internet and the connection through here is still mostly phone line…ugh!!!!

I’ve had two of my pet peeves shoved in my face on this trip. The first is the Highway Dip Shit that sees me rapidly overtaking them and there’s a slow moving vehicle a quarter of a mile in front of them. They immediately pull out in front of me and proceed to drive at 70 MPH – the speed limit is 75 – and it takes them ten minutes to overcome and pass the slow moving vehicle…not to mention what it does to my brain. If you’re going to pass, why not just step on the gas and pass? That’s what I do when I see a vehicle coming up behind me…come to think of it, there aren’t too many that come up behind me. Courtesy should be extended in all areas of life, especially when behind the wheel of a vehicle.

The second is the Dip Shit With Dogs. I have nothing against dogs. If I wanted one in my face and sniffing my leg, I’d get one of my own…having owned several previously, I know what I’m talking about. The campground rules are specifically set out “all pets must be on a leash”. Perhaps it should read “all pets must be on a leash and the owner must wear an electronic collar”. That would really be sweet. If the link from the owner – to leash – to pet was broken, the electronic collar would zap the owner until they grabbed the leash or released it to a clip ring on their site that over rode the collar effect.

I took my two young traveling companions out on a trail ride early a.m. Ryan rode my bike, Kayanna was on hers, and I walked/jogged the trail with them – an old road that is used now only for hiking and bike riding. The trail circles the lake but becomes almost impossible to bike after about a mile and a half. We made the ‘out’ and started on the ‘back’. Kayanna had ridden ahead (they took turns running off and leaving me as I was plodding along and they were full of piss and vinegar – ready to roll) and I heard a dog start barking in a frenzy that sent off bells in my head. I barked at Ryan, “Catch up to Kayanna and both of you stop and wait for me.”

He took off and before he disappeared around a bend, two older women and one white Chow were on the trail in front of him. The dog was not on a leash and ran towards him, snapping and barking. Ryan stopped and waited. I was moving up fast by this time.

The lead woman held a leash, “He won’t hurt you. It’s ok, he won’t hurt you. He just wants to make sure you won’t hurt me.”

The dog backed off a few feet and charged back at Ryan again. I had my trusty walking stick, (thanks Wayne), and I was getting ready to just stab the damn dog.

The lead woman called the dog and again took off with, “He won’t hurt you.”

By now the dog was by her side and I asked, “Did you see a little girl on a bike?”

The lead woman must’ve been a broken human that couldn’t comprehend anything except her canned phrase because she replied, “He won’t hurt you.”

The second woman heard me and said, “Yes, we passed her and she’s alright.”

I snorted, “You’re dog’s supposed to be on a leash!”

As Ryan and I passed them, the lead woman was finally putting the dog on the leash. I didn’t want to slap the dog, I wanted to slap her. Dip Shit Human!

I run into that kind of stuff all the time when I’m hiking in Red Rock. People that think the rest of the world is supposed to be happy to see their dog charging at them when the owner is 100 yards or so behind the animal . “He won’t hurt you.” – “He doesn’t bite.” Yeah right!

I’ve decided that I will have a canned reply from now on, “I will hurt him. Please protect your dog.”

I’m going to start carrying pepper spray. When I walk in town I always carry a PR-24. It’s the perfect club for smacking an attacking dog. I carry it for all four-legged and two-legged animals that might try to accost me when out in the wilds of the city. Hey…I’m not a violent person. I also refuse to go down without a struggle.

On a happier note, some of my little poker playing buddies will be coming into the campground tomorrow.