A few years ago, my family all met up at Findley State Park for a weekend of camping and relaxing.
Little did we know, we just happened to pick the one weekend per year that is the Dog Gone Campout, where everyone brings their furry friends and there's "games, crafts, and demonstrations geared to dogs." It was insanity. So many dogs everyone. And Beckett and his cousins, Scout and Bailey, had to bark at every single one that passed within 25 feet of our campsite.
We did partake in the games, running Beckett and Bailey through an obstacle course and letting them swim after a toy. And it was nice that the campground was filled with other dog-loving campers, so our canine's outbursts were very well tolerated. But even so, if I had to do it all over again, I think I would stay away from the park for that annual event.
Except, we went camping at Findley this past weekend .... and it somehow managed to collide with their Dog Gone Campout weekend AGAIN!! I'm not sure if we've even camped once at Findley since the last doggie extravaganza, and we just happen to pick that same weekend.
Beckett barked and strained so much at his chain that, after one night, he was hoarse. And then it started to rain. My sisters and brother-in-law had already left on Friday night. Keith and I were planning on leaving Saturday anyway, but with the dogs and the weather, my parents decided to join us, too.
We always enjoy sitting around the campfire and catching up, but this was not the most relaxing camping trip of all-time. When we got back home, I drank in the peace and quiet. For a few moments at least, until Beckett ran to the front window and barked at the dog walking on the far sidewalk, across the street.