Epic Adventure...SNOW~SNOW!! (also some stuff about kangaroo poo.)

It has been quite some time since I could get Mom to sit down long enough to play catch up on our Epic Adventure. And it's important that she does as it is about me, Moyo as Moyo, Camp Dog. It is also about SNOW!

Now, before we go any further let me tell you something. Mom has been fussing and doing weird things like making sure I have EARMUFFS and SCARVES and stuff. I swear the woman would get me booties if she could find some at a local Salvation Army Surplus Store.

Actually? She did spot some Bright RED plastic thingies at a local Walmart. And she got all EXCITED! But fortunately, Dad's Common Sense prevailed and he removed them from the trolley before they got to the checkout.

Thank the Gods of Dogs. I don't think I could have survived the humiliation of prancing around in plastic booties, irrespective of the colour. It's bad enough she makes me wear a TARTAN Scarf - of the Infinity Variety. And yes, I know people go "Oooooh!! SWEET!! I LOVE her scarf!" when they clock me. But it's all a bit much, really. Also? It's ITCHY! But Mom insists I wear it.

This is because SHE is cold. In the manner of Mothers-The-World-Over, my Mom operates on the understanding that if she feels the weather, so do I. This also applies to other states of being. Like hunger. Although, in THAT instance, she is usually right. Because I am a LABRADOR.

And a Famous person once said " You will NEVER know how much of the world is edible until you take a Labrador for a walk..."

True story. I can testify. I go through life with this key thought at the forefront of my mind:

I CAN EAT THAT!

And usually? If Mom is not paying attention? I do. Especially if it is Otter Poo. Or Cat Poo. Or Some Other Unidentifiable Gem Hidden In The Grass. Mom doesn't get it and she goes Absolutely-Ape-Shit at me when I do that. Which is Disappointing, but anyway, back to the Weather.

Mom makes me wear Stupid Stuff because SHE is feeling the COLD. But not because I am. I am a LABRADOR. Me, Moyo ~ I am a Labrador and that means that stuff like Snow and Ice are In My Genes.

This picture shows what Mom got at the Salvation Army store in Peachland. That's a scarf she had got for Dad, but when Dad wasn't looking she decided it looked

So Much Better on me. And as for those EARMUFFS?!!!

Given half a second of Unobserved Space? I am going to EAT them...

Now the fact of the matter is this: If Mom had stopped for breath which would have allowed her brain to breathe for a bit and start Firing Sense instead of WTF?!! HOW WILL MOYO SURVIVE THIS COLD WEATHER?????, and had rather spent time consulting a map, she would have discovered where Labrador is. Which is where My Genes come from.

Look here!

Not to put too fine a point on it, but? In short, where my genes come from?

It's FAAARRRRRRRKING COLD there almost all the time.

I am a LABRADOR--------> Ergo? Snow and Ice and Igloos and Such Similar Shite?

No problem.

So the very first snow I saw since we started our Epic Adventure? It was Fabulous.

(Dad stopped on the side of the road [out to the Camp where we were to be staying]

when we saw the first lot of snow...just so I could have a look!)

I was like a Labrador released. I zooted around in that stuff as if I had been doing it all my life. Which, if you are given to a Recincarnation Bent, you could argue I have. Or, at the very least, my great-great-great-great-great-great-several-gadzillion-times-removed-granddog did and that memory has been firmly entrenched into my Magnificent Labrador DNA.

Mom, on the other hand? She hit an Oh-My-Giddy-Goat!-Moyo-COME-HERE!-You-Need-Your-Earmuffs!-And-This-Scarf!(And-WTF-Were-You-Thinking-Dad-When-You-Removed-Those-Stunning-Red-Plastic-Booties-From-The-Trolley?) PANIC!

But I got Away from her before she could even Start with Kitting me, Moyo Up for The Tundra.

Seriously? Mom is going to have to do one (or all) of several things: to whit...

1) Start reading up about my genetics

2) Accept the inevitable of those genetics

3) Realise that Just because she is "fucking freezing, thank you" DOES NOT MEAN that I am

4) Either start wearing those Bollocky Earmuffs HERSELF - or donate them to the very next Salvation Army Surplus Store she spots.

5)...or deal with the fact that I, Moyo am going to EAT THEM.

And she had best get busy with the above list ASAP. Before any of us have to listen to her go on (and on and on and on) about the Horror of Trying to Fit Poo-Covered-Earmuffs into those teeny plastic packets that come rolled up inside a plastic bone thingy into which she has to try to fit my Morning Ablutions.

On which note, here is an aside to which I have been subjected for the preceding three days. It all began when Mom took out a new roll of those black plastic packets and removed the first (and the second, the third, the fourth...ad nauseum. LITERALLY!) one to Do her Good Citizen Thang and Clean Up After Me, Moyo.

Muttering and complaining, she did the necessary: this involves turning said packet inside out, inserting ones hand into it, leaning over and grubbing around trying to fit every last bit of digested kangaroo (Another Story!) into it before returning to the upright position, and giving the packet a little flick to turn it the right way out before twirling it closed, and placing a tight knot in it.

She got as far as the "little flick"....and that kangaroo poo? It shot out of the meant-to-be-sealed-end of that packet like an WMD.

Thank you, Walmart!!

For producing Poo Packets which are NOT sealed at the Sealing End, thereby supplying ME with Endless Days of Entertainment. And Mom with More Fits of Blue Air Temper. Bet she wishes Dad had let her buy those booties? She could be happily picking up piles of kangaroo in them without the fear of them becoming airborne....

I digressed.

I was going on about Snow. (I swear! The more time I spend with Mom? The more I begin to talk like her....) For those of you also uncertain of Important Stuff like Labrador Genes go here to Learn More about Dogs like me, Moyo.

https://www.bil-jac.com/the-dog-blog/posts/breed-history-where-did-labrador-retrievers-come-from/

Are we not Magnificent?

Now, before I have Mom tell you all about Moyo Camp Dog, it's important that you know all about how we got up to where the camp is. So follow the path here to see where we went to get there....

So, that's how we got from Sicamous to Quesnel. We stayed the night in Kamloops and the next day we drove and drove and drove and then we got to Quesnel. And along the way, we stopped at places that Mom and Dad felt needed More Exploring. In one place, they bought me a new Cecil AND a very Special Sweater.

Also, Dad was hankering from Some Good Coffee and when he saw a sign about a Coffee Shop in a Very Small Place called Lac La Hache he stopped there.

And it had some Excellent Indeed Coffee. Also an interesting shop for Mom to look through - all sorts of handmade things, including these fantastic guitars made from old tins and stuff. After that Coffee and Guitar stop, we did not stop until we got to Quesnel.

And if you are wondering if Mom is any good on a guitar, old tin or other? Observe my face.(and pretend you cannot see that bloody scarf. Yet Another Infinity Affair. Even Itchier than the Tartan One, for the love of Dog!)

And we needed to get there because that's where Maj and Guy, Mom and Dad's friends live. They are Canadians now, but Mom and Dad met them when they all lived in Tanzania, East Africa. There was lots of Catching-Up to be done and Lots of ChatChatChat.

And then, a few days after that? We went with Maj and Guy to their Camp which is on Kruger Lake. It takes AGES to get there and it's In The Middle Of Nowhere. And it was BEAUTIFUL!

A quick look at What Is To Come In My Next Post... The Camp @ Kruger Lake!

(Mom is going to put this post up and will then start writing about our time spent @ that camp on Kruger Lake. She said she will be sure to post it before too much longer: she feels you have been inundated sufficiently for today and that tomorrow is always good for another story.)

P.S. Mom and Dad Really Loved Sicamous...and nearby Malakwa. It's most definitely a place they could make home.

Only, they have a question about Sicamous that they forgot to ask when they were there. They KNOW that the Good Folk of Malawa talk about coming from MalaBama - and so call themselves the MalaBamians. SO WHAT DOES one call the people who live in Sicamous?

Sicamousians. Sicameese?

Sicamice?