Lola the Wonder Dog and I departed from home two weeks ago on a Sunday to make the six-hour drive to Craig and Donna’s lakeside place. Lola is a terrific car dog. I occasionally had to glance over my shoulder just to be sure I hadn’t inadvertently left her behind at a gas station.
It was after six p.m. when we finally arrived. It was still sunny, but the sun was beginning its long, slow downward trajectory to the horizon before welcoming a starry, clear night. The last boats remained on the lake, mostly crowded pontoons, and the water and jet skiers appeared done for the day. Serious fishermen on the lake would await dusk, more than one hour away, to venture back onto the water in their small motorboats.
As I parked the Subaru, I was sure Lola would spring to the ground and make for the lake the moment I opened her door, but she surprised me by running up the short set of stairs leading onto the wraparound wooden deck where the main entry to the lake house is. I followed her inside, observing numerous people gathered in and around the kitchen. Some had beverages in hand, while others nibbled on food. I observed several people setting out additional food trays. Among many voices, some were instantly recognizable to me, but with so many talking at once, I couldn’t easily pick up the threads of the conversations.
I entered the screened door. Lola had already made her way inside and had proceeded to the far end of the place where the kitchen is located. I heard people announce, “Here’s Lola,” and saw that we were arriving just in time for Donna and Craig’s nightly pre-supper “happy hour” celebration. I managed to briefly lure Lola away from the kitchen by showing her the travel dish containing delicious kibble. Not known for her polite table manners, she hungrily lunged at the bowl almost before I could place it down on the floor, devoured the contents in a few huge gulps, and immediately headed back toward the kitchen to press her luck, I suppose, with other humans.
However, by now, a few individuals were heading to the lakeside with their food plates and beverages in hand. Lola, observing this, made a quick about-face and followed them outdoors. I can’t be certain whether she managed to finagle a few scraps from one of them or was merely opportunistically collecting their droppings; when I finally caught up, she was busily scrounging, her involuntary tail wagging a clear signal of deep satisfaction. Eventually, someone picked up and heaved a large wood branch into the water, causing a loud splashing sound, which drew Lola’s attention. I watched as Lola jumped into the lake and vigorously paddled in pursuit of this trophy.
The next several days proved much the same: perfect weather and temperatures, two or three hearty and delicious meals each day (supplemented with snacks and drinks, of course), new daily arrivals, and non-stop sports and water activities. Early one morning, two of Donna’s daughters got her up on water skis. Another day, I played pickleball with Craig. The day we departed, Donna and her friend Jane were going golfing, while Jane’s boyfriend went cycling. The young adults and older kids in attendance constantly played a variety of games that, except for “bags,” I did not recognize.
Whether it came to eating, swimming, or fetching sticks, Lola, naturally, was indefatigable. She even managed to wear out some of the more energetic youngsters, who constantly indulged her, then, at night, she would collapse in a heap and sleep like a log. Meanwhile, I was exhausted from packing a week’s worth of activities, conversations, food, and driving into a span of a few days.
By Wednesday morning, however, we had to leave it all behind us as Robyn and I were departing home for Los Angeles the day after next. Except for the quick travel turnaround, I would have stopped along the road to procure freshly picked peaches, berries, brown hen eggs, large, vine-ripened tomatoes, or yellow ears of corn from one of the neighboring farmers.
Lola snoozed soundly in the back seat of the Subaru the whole way.
***
In Los Angeles, it was family time with Robyn’s kin. We traveled to Los Angeles with her older sister, stayed with her son in Thousand Oaks, and celebrated with her older brother, who was visiting from his home in Phoenix. In short order, I met at least a dozen other family members, whose names I barely caught. My first night in Los Angeles, I dined with my first cousin, Judy, who has lived in California for nearly fifty years. Over a lovely and leisurely dinner, we got caught up.
Finally, this past Monday evening, Robyn and I deplaned and said quick goodbyes. While she and her sister left the airport in a cab, I rode the subway into the City, then walked home. It was dark when I arrived at my place. Lola happily greeted me at the front door. I barely avoided a large and violent storm, accompanied by thunder, dramatic lightning, and powerful winds, which struck the neighborhood overnight. Regardless, on this night, I would sleep soundly without interruption.
After the long day of travel, I quickly settled in for the night without bothering to eat or unpack my bag. Lying in bed, as the words of Dorothy, the small and meek, reverberated in my head, I had to agree, there is no place like home!
