Howdy everybody. It’s me, Karl. Master of the sea, land, and sky.
Today we are talking about Green Turtle Cay. It was the day after Turkey Day. Well. We had chicken. So it was the day after Chicken Day, which I have decided is a real holiday now, and Captain Dad said we needed to go to town to pick up the dog food Mom had ordered.
I was excited. He said golf cart.
I am an excellent golf cart rider. What? You didn’t know that? You haven’t been keeping up. Go read my past blogs about Green Turtle Cay. Go ahead. I will wait.
…
Okay. Now then.
We went to a different golf cart place this time. The old cart, Dad said, was not long for this world. It coughed and tooted and smelled funny. Like me when I drink too much milk. Hehehe. Dad gave the lady some money and just like that we had ourselves a cart. A good one. I could tell.
Then Mom said she wanted to come. And she wanted to bring Sister.
I want to be clear that I was supportive of this plan. Mostly. I jumped into my rightful spot between Mom and Dad and then Dad said the words.
“Buddy. You need to ride in the back with your sister.”
I am sorry. What?
I am not a backseat Shepherd. I am Karl. Master of the sea, land, and sky. I said this with my eyes. Dad said it is either the back or stay home. I thought about it for a reasonable amount of time, which was about two seconds, and then I jumped into the back.
Here is what I want you to know about the back of this golf cart. It had a metal box. A trunk. Dad put Sister and me in the trunk. There was no lid but that is not really the point. The point is that it was a trunk and we were in it.
Sister hoisted her giant behind over the side with some help from Dad… a lot of help… and then she smiled her big goofy smile, started panting, and laid right down. That is her whole thing. Smile. Pant. Lounge. She has three moves and those are all of them.
After a few minutes I forgave everyone because the ride was, I have to admit, extremely choice. I stuck my excellent nose in the air. Salt. Trees. Warm wind through my very good fur. We blazed down the road at what I estimated to be two, maybe three miles an hour. It was exhilarating.
When we turned off from the marina, the roads got narrow and jungle-close, trees pressing in from both sides. Mom oohed and ahhhed. Dad drove. Sister panted.
I sniffed the world and felt like a king.
Eventually Mom said Sugar was working too hard in the heat and needed water and a fan. We took Sister home and she planted herself in front of the fan like she had been planning it all along. Then it was just Mom and Dad and me, and I resumed my rightful place between my people, and we sped into town to collect our kibble from Sid’s grocery.
We drove down every street because we knew we would be leaving soon and wanted to see it all. Mom spotted a little bakery and her eyes lit up. Dad and I parked and went for a walk while she went in. There was a rock cliff. Boats anchored in a cove. Dad said next time we come to Green Turtle we would anchor out, farther from the mangroves, so the no-see-ums would leave Mom alone. I agreed. Nobody messes with Mom.
But here is the thing.
I started to feel funny.
I am not always good at explaining how it feels. It is like something is coming. Like the air changes. I get in a hurry. I do not want to sniff around. I want to go. I started pacing and telling Dad with my whole body that we needed to leave. Now. Please. Dad knows me. He knows that different is never good.
When Mom came out of the bakery Dad told her I was having symptoms. Mom grabbed my face in both hands and looked right at me the way she does. She said yep and that was that. We went home.
On the way back Mom fed me some of the yummy bread and petted my head the whole time. I whined a little just to tell her how I was feeling. She listened. She always does.
When we got home Mom gave me a pill and a cookie and my juice. Then I felt sleepy and I had a good long nap. When I woke up the funny feeling was gone and Dad said come on buddy, let’s make some dinner. So we did. And then we went up on deck and watched the sun go down over the water.
It was the best day ever.
Karl out.
A note from Karl’s Mom:
Karl had a good day until he didn’t. What looked like an impatient dog on a hot afternoon was actually Karl letting us know, in the only way he can, that something was coming. We have gotten pretty good at reading his signs over the years. We got him home, gave him his rescue medication and his CBD oil, what Karl calls his juice, and let him rest. He never had a full seizure that day.
To learn more about how we manage Karl’s epilepsy while living aboard and traveling full time, visit our Medical Adventures page.