It was a bitter-sweet vacation. This was likely our last vacation for our family. Luke made it abundantly clear that he wasn't enjoying himself and if possible, he was going to make sure no one else enjoyed themselves either. Seriously, there were words exchanged. Eventually we reached a truce and perhaps even moments when he enjoyed himself, but not before he earned himself the nickname "Bitter Smurf".
The cottage was very sweet, clean and comfortable. The area where we were staying was very quite and rugged.
I was fascinated by the little wildflowers growing in the crevices of the pervasive rocks. Not only little flowers and grasses, but bushes and even trees grew in the rocks. Cedar shrubs hugged the ground in miniature looking from a distance like lawn.
The water was so clear! Fresh and blue, it was wonderful. There's a place called the grotto that was on the must see list and it was so worth it. A shade of blue I never expected to see in Canada.
We also did a 7km hike on the Bruce Trail. It was of moderate difficulty and I was very proud of our whole family for sticking it out.
Dexter's eye was better by the end of that first day. It must have been a bug bite. For a while there, he looked like a boxer who'd lost the fight.
The story of the trip though came one night around the campfire. We heard a rustle in the bushes behind us and saw a frog hop out onto a rock. It just sat there like it was enjoying the fire with us. Every time we looked back it was still there. After about 20 minutes, it jumped, toward the fire. We laughed and said "No, don't go to the light." But by golly if it didn't jump again, right into the fire! I thought for sure we were going to hear a hiss and a pop. We were all on our feet, yelling, helpless, when it jumped back out of the fire. I herded it back into the bushes, but you know, it came back. Twice. We nicknamed it suicide frog.
Then, when we returned from vacation, one of our guinea pigs had died. She was six years old and spry and chipper when we left, so we figure it's just old age. The other pig seems to be fine, but we're keeping an eye on her.
Finally, yesterday, I had the day off work. I cleaned did laundry, got groceries and generally tidied up loose ends. I was eating lunch outside with Dexter running in the yard when he caught a squirrel. He had it pinned and didn't seem to know what to do with it. He wasn't biting it or anything. So I grabbed his collar to pull him off it, but he had it pinned between his paws. It was as if after years of taunting he'd finally caught one and wasn't going to let it go. But after a bit, the squirrel fought back and then there's Dexter shaking his paw as if to say "Ow! Get it off!" Finally the squirrel let go and lay there in the grass, on its back panting for a bit before it scampered up the tree. It seemed fine and Dexter was none the worse for wear.
And that is the story of Bitter Smurf and the Bad Luck Animals. The end.