Published: July 23, 2008 01:38 pm            

VALLEY: A dog gone vacation

Last week I was telling the story of how I worked for a day and a half getting the plumbing straightened out so that there would be running water in our newly-acquired camp. My wife wasn’t due to arrive for a day or two and there were more than a few bugs to iron out before she got there.

It was 9:30 at night. And with a thunder and lighting storm raging, I had already tempted fate several times by wading into the river. I had to get the foot-valve cleaned and properly placed in the river so that it could suck water into the camp. Finally, the pump was primed and there was running water inside.

My brother-in-law, Bill and I were all smiles as we had beaten the elements and accomplished our goal. He was the brains behind the project and I was merely a soaked, muttering idiot who couldn’t thank him enough. My dog, Henry, just sat there in the rain oblivious to our joy.

Wearing a two-day old stench that even the river couldn’t wash off, I looked forward to a hot shower to cleanse not only the body but to soothe an aching spirit that had crept into my soul from the sheer fact that manual labor had trumped my vision of a tranquil vacation.

After seeing my bother-in-law off, I decided to hose down the deck before going inside. The pump area where we had been working had gotten muddy. It was a delight to turn the outside faucet on and actually have water at my command.

When the hose fired up, the dog sprang to life. When at home, he loves it when I spray him. Apparently, that’s what he thought was happening. He playfully jumped up and in the process, wrapped his leash around the plumbing that we had just finished. He slipped off the dock, taking with him and wiping out every damn bit of work that we had just completed. I am not kidding! Gone! It was destroyed. No water, again, inside.

Now, I have friends who would have shot that dog dead. I’m not kidding. But me, I’m an animal lover and I completely understand that poor Henry had no intention of destroying the plumbing that I had labored over for so long.

I tenderly attempted to pull him back onto the dock but he refused my help, commenting “Sorry, but you stink” (I have friends who would have shot him just for that comment — but, again, not me. I love animals).

The next day, my brother, Mike, paid a visit. By then, I had re-tooled the plumbing and gotten the water up and running. I was telling him about the ordeal with the dog and he mentioned that he would have gotten rid of the dog — if you know what I mean. I told him I wasn’t that type of guy. Henry and I were best of friends.

Later, we could hear old “Hank” (Henry’s nickname) squawking out front. I noticed that his bark seemed stressed. We walked out onto the deck and found that Henry had jumped off the front dock into the water (again). This time his leash tangled around the pylons under the camp. He had absolutely no slack in the leash and he needed immediate attention. I jumped into the river and unwound his tether and got him ashore

After hugging my trusted mutt, I realized that I had my cell phone in my pocket and my one and only means of communication had now been wiped out. First, he ruined the plumbing and now he had cost me my cell phone. Absolute truth — I’m not kidding.

So that I can finish this story this week, I’ll be brief with the rest: My wife finally arrived and, thankfully, remembered to bring her cell phone. I told her all that had happened and she suggested that I take a break and go fishing. Good idea! Henry and I loaded up the boat to go out and, naturally, the motor wasn’t working properly.

After tinkling with it like I knew what I was doing, I got it to run at about five percent capacity of its normal speed. It took us forever to get to my spot in the middle of the river — about three-quarters of a mile from each shore.

It finally looked as though my luck was about to change as I hauled in a couple of nice bass right off the bat. As I was putting the second one on the stringer, Henry decided to get a closer look and took a swat at the fish — wrenching the whole UNATTACHED stringer into the river! They slowly swam together further and further away from the boat. Without hesitation, I dove into the river to retrieve my catch. The moment I hit the river, it dawned on me: I had my wife’s cell phone in my pocket!

Funeral services for the dog were held that night.

Now, I’m kidding.

They were held three days later!

Kidding, again. He’s still my pal!

And that’s the way it looks from the Valley.

Tom Valley is a Medina resident. His column runs every Thursday. Write to Tvalley@rochester.rr.com.

        

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