May 17, 2024 3 min read

Smoothie let me sleep in this morning, giving me an extra hour before he appeared at my bedside to begin the silent stare that has always meant “It’s time to get up.”

My little old sheltie doesn’t bark or fuss, but somehow his presence pulls me up from the depths of sleep. It’s a routine that’s forced me to begin my day with a walk to the dog park. But not this morning. I think Smoothie may be recovering from his stay at what I call Log Cabin Camp.

Three weeks ago, I drove my pup 50 miles to a friend who offered to keep him at his log cabin while I was away on a beach vacation. The weeklong stay turned into three weeks, as a knee injury at the beach extended my trip and made me unable to walk the dog when I got home. Fortunately, a cortisone shot got me back on my feet, and yesterday I went to fetch Smoothie.

What a stay he had.

Through texting updates, I followed along: long walks through the woods, trips to the farm store riding shotgun in the truck, afternoons spent watching my friend planting his garden, morning and evening walks to feed the chickens.

One day I received a text that showed Smoothie wearing a blue kerchief. He’d been to the groomer, my surprise birthday present from my friend.

The spa treatments continued back at the log cabin, where Smoothie had his teeth brushed twice a day (something I’ve failed to do). To get the dog on board with the routine, my friend would first brush his own teeth, to demonstrate. This man is the best kind of dog person.

When I was 10, I spent a week at Camp Henry Kaufmann, a Girl Scout camp in Ligonier. I remember the hikes through the woods, the campfire songs and the oatmeal breakfasts. Mostly, I remember falling asleep on the ride back home. I was exhausted and had been homesick; each new adventure was a reminder of the familiar faces and comforts of home.

In the last days of the stay, my friend reported that Smoothie wasn’t eating much and seemed to be tired.

“Maybe he misses me,” I said, and I wondered if, after that long, he’d still remember me. When I pulled up at the cabin, Smoothie was lying in the shade. His little triangle ears perked up as I approached to scratch the fur between them.

“Perfect gentleman,” my friend said as he filled my car with all the dog treats he’d bought, along with copious notes about how and when to brush his teeth.

Smoothie fell asleep in the car before we were out of the driveway. Once home, he retreated to the sun spot behind the dining room table. He stayed there all day, refusing to come when I called him. At one point, he lifted his head and looked at me as if to say, “I need some space,” and went back to sleep.

I suppose that’s what summer camp is meant to be: a fun, adventurous time in a new place. But it’s also good to be back home again, resting in that sunny spot on the floor.

I’d like to think Smoothie missed me. I know my log cabin friend misses him, too.