the winston chronicles...part I.

People are always asking me things like “Winston, do you want to go outside?”or “Winston, what’s your favorite pastime?” or “Winston, what’s your favorite marine mammal?"

The answers are yes, general ambivalence, and the noble Walrus.

This past Friday I was presented with an opportunity to do the second, and I was looking forward to it. Do a little laying around, a little house defending (the little kids next door present more of a threat than you know), and perhaps, if there would be enough time, a little carpet peeing.

However, on this particular Friday, my parents had other plans. With little consideration to things like who would protect the home front, who would eat the garbage, who would vomit on the bathroom floor (my contributions to this household are constantly overlooked, let me tell you), they decided to force me to deviate from my personal weekend agenda and take part in a “Grand Adventure” as they called it.

Paying no heed to my persistent objections, they once again played dress up with me, forcing me to wear this little number, and follow them outside. I knew immediately that I was in for it when they forced me into a Nissan Xterra which, to be honest, was suspect at best. With familiar disregard to my personal well being (I have a great idea, lets pile into a stuffy vehicle in 95 degree heat, roll up the windows, and subject ourselves to loud repetitive uninspired inde music… stupid humans), we embarked.

After about 35 minutes of my driving/directional advice being summarily ignored by the front seats, I tried to move up to see if they could hear me better. “Winston, sit down”… so I turned to look out the window “Winston, lay down”… I tried to rearrange the piles of equipment near my space “Winston, lay down”…. really people, why’d you bring me? Could I take off the backpack? NO. I did however get an opportunity to smell that fresh mountain air everyone is always talking about, and to be honest, I like the smell from under my coffee table better.
A bigger picture of what we were actually “adventuring” for did begin to take shape when the word “camping” was tossed around a few hundred times as I eavesdropped on the conversations of the apparently SUPER-EXCLUSIVE front seat. For the next three hours I was subjected to soundbites like “This campgrounds full. Lets check the next," “Full again?" “Winston farted again," and “Seriously? Every site is full!?” I spent most of this time pretending to sleep, counting my toys in my head, and drooling on my blanket… time well spent, don’t get me wrong, but not exactly what I had in mind.

It had been dark for a good long while when we finally pulled into the parking lot and I recognized the familiar smell of my domicile again. Nothing like driving around for seven hours and getting home just late enough that I didn't have the time or energy to even pee on the carpet. So now I’m left to contemplate the “adventure” we had, and wonder to myself, if that was camping, what was all the hype about? The neighborhood villains dressed as 5 year olds are much more entertaining than that. 

(Author's note: I may have gotten some help from my dad on this little ditty. 
yeah, i guess i'm one lucky pup after all.)


  1. Ha! I feel like I can truly read all of this in his preciously ambivalent face.

  2. Wow, Winston is such a good writer. I wonder if he'd like to chronicle his adventures in watching The Bachelorette.... just an idea.

  3. Nicely done, Winston, nicely done. I can't wait to read your upcoming novel. xoxo