…or, something like that.
Jack and I just got back from an awesome trip to Massachusetts. One of my best friends (sadly, now living in Florida, *humpf*) made a trip up to Boston this past weekend, as her husb was attending a conference and she was tagging along, and of course being so close Jack and I had to drive out and visit her. Okay, maybe “close” isn’t exactly the right word for a 6 hour drive- or 7 -8, when you count in all the potty breaks–but suffice to say. Yeah. We threw all the camping stuff in the Scion, Rain-x’ed up the windshield- and were on our way!
I’d only been to Massachusetts once before, as a kid (except for a dog haul a few years ago, but that was just jumping over the border). I think I was maybe in fourth grade when I went on a trip to Salem with my cousin Melanie and her family. I remember crossing over the border of New York, and expecting the landscape to look TOTALLY different. We were going into another state, you know! I guess I thought the trees would be different, the grass and plants would be totally different… it wasn’t lol. Ah, being young and clueless…
Well.
We didn’t rush to Beantown right away, this past weekend. And I *did* plan ahead. Zea Mays Printmaking Studio -which was located “kind of” on our way- had an awesome 2-day workshop on “Masks, Stencils, and other Creative Inking Techniques for Reductive Linoleum Printing.” Susan Jaworski-Stranc was the instructor. I’ve been mulling over the idea of using stencils in my linocuts (because I suck at reduction) and Liz, who runs Zea Mays, was wonderful in letting me take only part of the class (Saturday) AND having Jack in the studio for the day. Seemed like something I HAD to do! And I’m so glad I did.
It was a FANTASTIC workshop! And Zea Mays is really an awesome facility. I would definitely take a class there again! Jack behaved wonderfully. He did take awhile to settle and got a bit whiny around 2 o’clock, but for the most part just hung out and folks were very nice to complement him on his laid-back behavior. 
After Zea Mays (and a brief walk though town, including photo op with Sojourner Truth), we began the haul to Wompatuck State Park, south of Boston, where we were camping. It was POURING rain almost the whole drive, and I was nervous that we were going to have to sleep in the car (I refuse to set up a tent in the rain. Refuse) but thankfully the skies briefly closed up and we were able to get checked-in and set up just before dark… and the rain began again… lol.
We seemingly booked the smallest campsite at Wompatuck… possibly in the whole state of Massachusetts. I could barely wedge the tent in between the car and the fire pit. And the whole site was surrounded by poison ivy, so you couldn’t even “spread out”. If the rain had let up at all during our trip (which really, it didn’t) I would have been afraid to start a fire because the tent had to be set up sooo close to it. I think, because it was so wet, the slugs went haywire and every morning, my tent would be crawling with them. And we leaked. The air mattress leaked, the tent leaked. Everything was flat, damp, and cold. I swear, I am NEVER buying Coleman camping products again!!!! Actually, I may never camp again lol.
Seriously though, I tried not to let the rain (or poison ivy, or slugs, or condition of our tent…) put a “damper” (har har) on things. We did spend some time inside reading or napping during the hardest rain, but when it was misting we definitely went out. Wompatuck seemed to have a gazillion miles of trails, and Jack and I REALLY enjoyed exploring. It took me awhile to get used to navigating, though. I’m not sure if it’s just this way at Wompatuck, or all of Massachusetts state parks? But the trails AREN’T marked with trail markers. Intersections are marked with numbers, and you have to find the corresponding markers on your trail map to figure out where you are, and go from there. Kind of bizarre.
Our trip into Boston was really fun. Dogs are allowed on the subway during “off-hours”, so we drove to the Braintree station, near Wompatuck, and rode in Sunday afternoon. It was Jack’s first time on the subway and he did pretty well. The “rocking” of the train was a bit shocking for him, and he REALLY wanted to get up on the seats (I wouldn’t let him) but he took it all in stride.
Just have to say, as someone who lived in NYC for a few years and still visits regularly… OMG the Boston subway trains go so. freaking. slow. At least the two we were on? In the Big Apple, the subway trains FLY. They jerk. They scream around corners and seem barely controllable. On our two Boston subway trips, the trains drove slowly, gently eased into the stations and kept the herky-jerky to a minimum. That was nice because Jack was on board but I found myself getting a bit impatient. You remember the Seinfeld episode where Elaine is on the stalled train, and just squishing her face together trying to will it forward? That was me. Sitting on the Boston train gritting my teeth thinking GO! GO! GO!
So Jack conquered the subway. What else did Jack do? He rode an escalator (hopped on it like he owned it!), an elevator, and did one of those big glass revolving doors. He wasn’t phased by anything. I was so proud of him!
Of course, traveling with a dog means there’s stuff you just can’t do. That kind of puts the kabash on a lot of activities, but we had a great time anyway. One of the things we did was hike the “Emerald Ring” of parks through the city. We started at Boston Common, went up along the Commonwealth Avenue Mall, and down Fenway Park. It only drizzled a little bit, and was an amazing walk.
We also hiked the “Freedom Trail” –or part of it–which is a walking tour of historical Boston. This is Paul Revere’s house:
Pardon the blurry picture, but this moment was too good not to talk about. Much has been said in The Dog World regarding the intelligence –or lack thereof–of the Sighthound breeds. I don’t think Greyhounds, or Saluki, or the much maligned Afghan are ‘stupid’ dogs at all, despite some studies that came out a decade or so ago ranking breed intelligence. *I* certainly have never ‘owned’ a ‘stupid’ Greyhound. Lucy, for instance, was very cunning and used her agility training to get into trouble around the house. Clifford and Jack? Okay, they are SMART dogs but they are males, and male greyhounds can be… um… clueless. Smart, but maybe a bit too… happy-go-lucky?… for their own good.
Jack is a very smart dog. That didn’t stop him from seeing this donkey statue, touching noses with it (like it was a big dog), wagging his tail, and then sniffing the donkey’s butt. He also went up to a statue of 3 women on the Commonwealth Avenue Mall, wagging and pinning his ears back, thinking the statues were real people and hoping for a scratch. Nice try, Jack, they’re bronze. ROFLMA!!!!
The next day, we took a trip down to the south end of the state to do some gardening at the Burial Site of my friends’ extended family. We cleaned up some weeds, planted hostas. The sun actually made a brief appearance! Along the way, we drove by the old Raynam-Taunton Greyhound Park, which is now closed to live racing (Massachusetts banned greyhound racing a few years ago). But Clifford spent a few months at Raynham Taunton back in ’00 or ’01, shortly before retiring. At least I think he did… now I’m wondering if I’m mixing it up with Wonderland?? Anyway, I got teary eyed driving by, thinking of Cliffie’s Glory Days.
Trace and I stopped in Taunton to get Chinese take-out and while waiting for our food… something very interesting happened. I was PUBLICLY HECKLED. Yes, that’s right. I got heckled. Now I’ve had strangers come up to me and challenge my environmentally-liberal bumper stickers, but this was a first. Get this. So we’re at this tiny plaza at an intersection in Taunton, waiting for our Chinese food to be cooked up. A pizza delivery “boy”, in his late 30′s I’d say, is making his way up the sidewalk to go into one of the plaza stores. All of a sudden he starts pointing at me and Trace, yelling, “YANKEES SUCK! GO HOME YANKEES! YANKEES, GO HOME! YANKEES SUCK! YANKEES SUCK!”
Now… okay. I’m confused, I admit it. Trace and I are both like, WTF? Is he talking to us?? Why yes, yes he is! The pizza boy continues yelling at us, pointing and skipping around, chanting “GO HOME, YANKEES! YANKEES SUCK!” At this point, it’s dawning on me that because he sees my New York State license plate, he must assume I’m a Yankees fan–?? So I tell him, “No no, I hate the Yankees! I hate ALL sports! I’m NOT a Yankees fan.”
But he keeps heckling us!
Trace ditches me to run across the street to CVS. I’m left with The Heckler, who by now is skipping over to the traffic light at the intersection, trying to get all the drivers there riled up. He’s going car to car, pointing at me and yelling. I see people rolling down their windows and looking at me. I wonder if I’m about to get beat up? The light turns green, and the cars drive off. The Heckler keeps skipping around, laughing, pointing, and heckling. By now I’ve gotten Jack out of the car (hoping it will scare the guy off, but it doesn’t) and we start walking down the sidewalk. Heckler follows us about 20 feet back, taunting. He’s obviously having the time of his life, but I’m still struggling between “Man, this is really amusing!” and, ” I’m two strokes away from opening my mouth and letting every obscenity fly before going over there and breaking this dude’s pizza box over his mother f*cking head“.
Eventually The Heckler, still yelling “Yankees suck! Yankees go home!”, dances across the street and on his way, disappearing into the neighborhood.
Wow.
(I learned yesterday that the “Yankees suck, Yankees go home” is a chant that Red Sox fans sing at baseball games? Honest to God, I don’t understand sports fans. It’s all ridiculous. A bunch of grown men being paid exorbitant paychecks to throw a stupid ball around. Give me a break).
Anyway.
I think the most exciting trip was to Fall River for a tour of Lizzie Borden’s house. If you like unsolved mysteries (check), are into the Paranormal (check), or have a morbid side (arg, I hate to admit this but…check!) then you will LOVE this place. Our tour guide was great and gave us multiple insights into the Borden family, historical Fall River in the late 1800′s, and the vicious killings of Mr. and Mrs. Borden. It was a really fascinating tour and I bought a book about Lizzie’s Trial at the gift shop–I’m eager to read more about this.
Our ride home was uneventful, except that I ran out of cash, and found my ATM card wasn’t working. This led to a panicky “OMG how am I going to pay the Thruway tolls?!?!” anxiety-ridden half-hour, but it all worked out. As an aside, I got a “Book on Tape” for the drive which was excellent:
One of my side-fascinations is high-altitude mountain climbing, and this book was riveting. K2 is the second highest mountain in the world, and is a much more difficult climb than Everest. The book details everything about K2, from its “discovery” to first climbs, to most recent climbs- including detailed accounts of recent disasters. I think I read somewhere that 1 of every 3 people who climb K2 dies?? Or something like that? Anyway, highly recommend this book. Might be better reading in “book” format than on CD, because it’s soooo detailed.
We finally pulled into the driveway about 9 pm. Sadly (dum dum dum…), we ended up turning around and heading off to the Emergency Vet almost immediately when Jack scared up a black cat that was sashaying through the backyard. Sigh. The cat bolted, but Jack was too quick and got it by the neck. He thrashed it around a bit, but lost interest when it stopped struggling. It was HORRIFIC to watch. Although Jack’s, uh, “technique” definitely improved hunting this cat–compared to the last one, sigh– the cat didn’t die and was on the ground drooling and attempting to drag itself away, but could only twitch her paws. Poor thing!!!! I had to bring her to the ER to be euthanized- she was gashed along the shoulder, and her back was severed. It broke my heart that this young feral cat probably had no one to ever love her, in her poor short life, and then died so violently. Jack, of course, was incredibly proud of himself. He hunts squirrels all the time but NEVER gets them… it seems he only succeeds against cats (which makes me wonder on the intelligence of cats vs. squirrels…) but I can’t be mad at him, he was only doing what his instincts told him. Why do they keep coming over the fence????
Well the biggest Kicker of the night, Cliff had been to this ER vet before, so when the cat was euthanized they put “Clifford-Euthanize” on the receipt. WTF? Why in the world would you do that? I was already all sniffly about the cat, and that just made me lose it.
Got back from the vet at 11. Crawled meekly to bed and passed out. So ends another exciting vacation in the annals of Jen and Jackhammer….aaaaahhhhhhh…
/ Something more hardy.
Thankfully groups in the Northeast help out –I guess the shelters down South are just exploding- people don’t neuter, don’t spay. Very sad. Up here we have shelters of course but the local ones I’ve visited are never full-full, and most of the dogs are Pit bull types, not as much ‘variety’ as down south it seems.
