We could jail the dog
I think I have figured out the puzzle about wildlife migrating into new places; they don’t follow people rules. Over supper (fries with the works, for the first time in about a decade), we started “what if” brainstorming. What if we went to Newfoundland? Did it before, had a great time, bla-bla-bla.
And we realized that the last time around, we were dog-free. Seems that the ferry operators have a policy that makes bringing the pooch over the waters into a mission impossible. You can leave the mutt in your rig (could work) or you can place it in a corporate jail on board. That’s the mission impossible part.
Forget taking a tour of the upper (or outer) deck with your best friend on lead. Not permitted. And so now we’re back to wondering if putting all the wonderful NL commercials on a DVD, taping foggy pictures of puffins to the car windows and whistling familiar ditties can work.
I don’t give up easily. Went out to the “alternate living room” and sat there, with the dog, happily connected to the house wifi (me, not the dog. He doesn’t need social media, other than coyote calls). Training time. Which reminds me. Those wily coyotes didn’t take the ferry. Or the bridge. They simply made do with winter ice and a willingness to get wet if required. And now they’re here.
Over at the local campground, the community that provided example is assembling for the season. We should be there, but we have so much left to learn before leaving the comfort of the driveway.
