When we arrived, no one seemed to be around. Dad and Orville each started wandering off in search of assistance. Our welcomers came dashing out, with tails wagging and yipping all around. I wasted no time in climbing out of the car and starting to scratch ears and tummies. With three dogs and only two hands, it was a complicated venture indeed.
A man who worked at the camp came over and started laughing when he saw me amid a pile of squirming puppies. Between my fragments of Portuguese and his patience, we could at least greet each other and I could say where we were coming from and that sort of thing. I also told him how much I adored the dogs. He grinned, and called into the house for "Pumba." He laughed and laughed at my face when a big old wart hog came wandering out of the house! Soon I was trying to pet Pumba while being nipped at by three jealous pups.
The puppies followed us to our camp site and they stayed with us for both days. Their owners were away and I think they were a little lonely. The first morning, Mom came out and found them all asleep, two of them sleeping inside the cement fire pit, enjoying the warmth left by the ashes of the fire.
Enjoying the residual warmth from the fire |
Dad playing with Pumba |
Pumba nibbling on my knees...it tickled! |
My favorite picture |
I was the first one out of bed on Friday morning. The pups heard me up and started pouncing on my tent, clearly feeling playful. I unzipped the flap and let them in just to keep them quiet, but they complicated the process of tying my shoes! The one little monkey grabbed my deodorant and took off with it, while another one nudged the lid off of my trash basket and started pulling out tissues! After getting a little bit of order restored, I took my journal out to write by the fire and watch the sunrise. They had other plans. First one, then two, then all three hopped up onto my lap! I didn't mind in the least.
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