The "Something" in the Rock

This is the first in a series of camping posts that in many respects paint Skippy in a very favourable light. When in this element, for the most part, she behaves like a normal dog; perhaps even a normal Jack Russell. She enjoys running along the portages ahead or behind someone, with no leash to quell her freedom. Many of her typical neuroses become obsolete in the wild as many of the man-made distractions that fill up and busy our daily lives dissipate. The true nature of her breeding emerges and we begin to get a glimpse of what dogs perhaps were meant to be like. To see this creature that has tried my patience so many times with her ridiculous behaviour and uncompromising stubbornness begin to unwind and distance herself from her daily stresses makes me like this dog even more.

When she caught and killed a vole on one of the islands, I couldn't help but be proud. My dog, a Jack Russell, hunted something and killed it: just as it was bred to do. On other occasions she has caught and killed mice and made me smile like a parent at their "special needs" kid's piano recital. But the great thing about Skippy is that while she reverts back to that which is inherent in her breeding, she still manages to stay true to her other inherent nature: her innate "Skippy-ness". You know what I'm talking about.

If you've ever been to Algonquin Park and had the opportunity to canoe into one of the beautiful lakes, then you can probably imagine the island we were staying on. Not too large, scattered trees, with partial outcroppings of rocks, which reveal the ancient origins of the geological landscape. These outcroppings will typically have narrow and deep splits in many places, most likely caused by the expansion of frozen water (if I'm wrong as to the cause, don't post anything nasty because I'm not a scientist and I really don't care).

On this particular occasion I did not see what crawled or slithered into one of these crevasses, but I'm assuming that Skippy did. Whatever it was, it piqued her interest enough for her to investigate the crack in the rock as much as she could, which constituted a lot of sniffing and trying to wedge her nose into a place where it could not fit. At this point nothing in this behaviour struck me as odd but as quite typical of her breed. What followed after this, in my opinion, was not.

For the next three days (and this, only because we had to go home) Skippy was at the rock. She was not keeping vigil, waiting for whatever escaped into its reaches to emerge, but rather she was vigilantly sniffing for that "something". When she wasn't eating or sleeping, she was at the rock. When we got up in the night to go to the outhouse, Skippy left the tent also. At first we couldn't find her. Searching for a dog on an island in the middle of the night is not enjoyable and can be quite angering, especially when she does not respond to the several calls of her name. Finally, we found her near the water with her nose partially wedged in the rock, sniffing frantically. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's not still down there, Skippy. God job at being crazy, though, and for taking what is "normal" and making me ask still: "What is up with my Jack Russell?"

It's amazing that this never got old.

Day 3

From dusk 'til dawn.