Why, Oh Why Oh Why Oh, Why Did I Ever Leave Ohio?

We got to our campground in Ohio - Barcamp State Park near Belmont Ohio. Last year we got here just as the sun had set. This time we got there with about an hour of daylight left. Things were looking up!

We set up the camper without unhooking it from the van. It was one of the advantages of an extended tow hook; the disadvantage being that every time I forgot to pay attention while loading stuff from Sam's Club or the grocery store, I got a black and blue bruise on my shin. But I found that over the next 13 weeks I would be grateful for that extended tow hook time and again.

We got the opportunity to grill burgers and hot dogs, sit back in our camping chairs and bask in the glow of the start of the trip of a lifetime. Bedtime came and we were all dog tired, including the dog. Cooper survived his first day with no car sickness. I had rigged up a kind of doggie urp bag, which was a cookie sheet covered in aluminum foil. I knew it was hopeless to try to get Cooper to barf in a bag, so I covered the cookie sheet and gave Daniel instructions that if Cooper started to heave, he should hold the cookie sheet under Cooper and let him hurl away. I would pull over, dispose of the doggie urp and put new foil on the sheet. It was an inspired idea - and one we never used. Not once in the 13 weeks did Cooper even look queasy, never mind throw up. Cooper the Trooper.

Dawn came at 5:30 in the morning and I headed for the campround restroom. It was a picture perfect morning. The campground was still and the birds were just starting to sing. Trees rustled gently and the morning felt full of promise. I walked back to Pop-Pop, intending to go back to bed for a couple of hours. 7:30 would be early enough.

But 5:30 was plenty early for Cooper the Trooper. He was standing on the other side of the camper door, poised to pounce. I opened the door and a 50-pound flash of black with a white chest and paws blew past me like an A-Bomb at Alamogordo. And it was off to the races! Cooper personified gamboling - in Webstr's under gambol it says, "Watch Cooper get loose."

There was only one other person awake that I could see. An elderly woman was sitting outside her camper. Now Cooper is a happy-go-lucky, slightly neurotic people herder. He doesn't seem to understand that most people just don't need herding. He will charge at potential herd members with a ferocious bark, a deep-throated "WOO-WOO-WOO-WOO" and will nip at the herd members' heels, because that is what his hard-wired instinct tells him is the way to get animals to move. It's also the way to get people up in arms. Cooper does not get the distinction.

He's gamboling, I'm frantically following and calling him, the little old lady is a sitting duck. He is just so happy, he doesn't have a care in the world, he's - "HEY, HEY, HEY! WOO-WOO-WOO-WOO OLD LADY NEEDS HERDING OLD LADY NEEDS HERDING!! HERDING ALERT! HERDING ALERT!" But before Cooper can take another breath for his frontal assault, the little old lasy brandishes a broom like some Samurai warrior. Cooper makes a tactical retreat, spies a squirrel, and decides it's more to his liking. He's off for the woods. I'm off for reinforcements!

Back to Pop-Pop. "Everybody GET UP!" I yell as I yank open the camper door. Two heads pop up immediately, the third waves a hand. "Cooper's gotten loose!" Those three words and the kids spring into action. Grabbing whatever looks like clothing, they tumble out of the camper at nearly a dead run. "He's headed that way," I point. We all take off.

The next 90 minutes were an education to us, to Cooper, and to the people of Barcamp State Park. We learned, first, that Americans outside of our block in Baltimore actually LIKE dogs. They're not afraid of barking, charging, neurotic border collie/labrador dogs gamboling in their park. At one point two rangers drove by in a state park vehicle.

"Good morning, ma'am." I felt so old - ma'am. "I see you have a dog not on a leash."

"Well, yes, sir," teach you to call ME ma'am, "he's currently supposed to be ON a leash, but he doesn't want to cooperate."

"Well, ma'am," there's that ma'am again, "it looks like you're getting the situation under control." At this his partner starts laughing out loud. "We'll just leave you to it."

"Thank you, Officer." Coward.

For the next ninety minutes the people of the campground slowly awoke, poked their heads out of their campers, coffee in hand, surveyed the mayhem, and left us to our own devices. I bet some of them even postponed restroom runs to keep our playing field clear. These people were my kind of folks.

And Cooper - well, he didn't exactly learn a lesson, but we learned a valuable lesson on how to catch him. Don't chase the dog - get the dog to chase YOU! Adina had a sweatshirt and she started waving it at Cooper, "Cooper, Coopie, here! Wanna play tug of war?"

Cooper rose to the challenge. He raced after Adina, grabbed a sleeve and started tugging, Running away from him, she tugged on the sweatshirt until he was even with her, then she executed a perfect spin and landed on Cooper, wrapping the sweatshirt around him. Daniel and I pounced on the boy, and the fight went out of him. He just laid there, panting happily and thumping his tail on the grass.

"Adina, you are brilliant! Hey, where's Pinky?"

Standing to the side, trying to make eye contact with someone who will give her a ride to Kansas City. Well, too bad, Pink - you're in for the long haul.

We break camp in good time - why go back to bed, we're all wide awake now - and "head out on the highway." Next stop: Wapakaneta, Ohio, the birhplace of astronaut Neil Armstrong.