Best vacation ever. Big Stick I chomp and chase into the lake and carry into the cabins (until Mom makes me take it outside) and Big Man who carries doggie treats in his pocket and gives them to me. Spent the whole week jumping off the dock with my cousin Elizabeth (picked up doggie paddle technique pointers) and swimming in the lake. Gramma's cabin smells like barbecue chicken or cookie dough or blueberry buckle. But nothing beats the dead fish.
Tetherball distracted Mom and Dad. I stayed in the shallow water until smelling something…sniff, sniff…dead bird?…no, it's better…poo?…no, better than poo…dead fish! 
Simply nosing the dead fish is only fun for so long, and then it's time to roll around in it, covering my coat in it's sweet, sweet smell. This must be the Dead Sea spa treatment Mom talks about?
Now it's dark, and time to go inside, back to Gramma's cabin—maybe I'll get one of Auntie Suz's oreo cookie brownies? Or maybe not. Mom and Dad are holding their noses and making gaging noises. Dad drags me outside and starts bathing me, but not with the hot shower water I like. This water's cold, and the shampoo smells like orange cream. Dad hoses me off and I catch a few words like "she's your dog," and "sleeping in the truck tonight," and "disgusting animal." I don't know who they are talking about, but I feel bad for that poor pooch! They seem grumpy tonight as they go to bed, but before too long the soothing scent of creamsicle fish guts lulls everyone to sleep. Today was a good day.
—Ophie Jane
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