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Authors: Taryn Souders
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16
9:21 p.m.
WORST DAY EVERâ(much worse than Monday)!!!
A Ziploc bag is all that is keeping Mr. Snuffles togetherâI hate that goat. Mr. Snuffles was all I had left from my grandpa. I have NO DOUBT that Victoria let King Arthur out of his stall and fed him Mr. Snuffles! I hate her as much as I hate King Arthur.
I spent all afternoon cryingâat least when Victoria wasnât around. Itâs not that I care A LOT (just a little) about what she thinks, but I know sheâll only make my life more miserable if she sees me upset. Popular kids like her are like that. Nathn seemed clueless to the fact that I didnât eat anything at dinner and was sad. Heâs a good friend, but he can be pretty oblivious at times. I guess itâs good he didnât notice Iâd been cryingâhe might think Iâm a crybaby.
Pogo said Mr. Snuffles can be repaired, but I know that no amount of stuffing or stitching will be able to put him back the way he was.
A boy from the Seneca cabin, Miguel Fernandez, got the kindness award tonight. At least someone was happy. Coach Fox said it was for picking up a bunch of trash that had been blown around from a fallen trash can.
Friday, June 18
Assume Sign-Ups Will Be a Piece of Cake
The first week at Camp Minnehaha flew by faster than King Arthur could roll down a hill, eat an elephant, or dodge a chicken. Pogo and I spent all our free time together. Every once in a while, weâd spy Director Mudwimple driving the camp golf cart around the grounds, sometimes with a leash in one hand and sometimes with an iced tea. I was pretty sure I knew which animal the leash was for. Even though I didnât have any more run-ins with King Arthur, there were times when bushes would move and leaves would rustle for no apparent reason, and I would grab the closest stick to defend myself.
The only break from the miserable heat we had was the cool lake. The floating dock was by far our favorite thingâmainly because of the Taco and Burrito Wars. A group of campers (usually the sports jocks) would swim the gigantic dock out to the middle of the lake, and then weâd divide into two teams, Tacos or Burritos. We spent the whole time pushing the other team off the dock. It was King of the Hill, only with Mexican food. Pogo and Sebastian always picked the Taco team. Nathan and I were always Burritos.
It was also during the first week that I confirmed Iâd never be a veterinarian. In my opinion, animals were nothing but trouble. The thought of spending a week at a barn was not my idea of fun. Plus, there were way too many spiders there. And I donât mean small onesâI mean the kind that turn around and glare at you when you step on them.
Moreover, during one of the trail rides, Iâd overheard Doc telling Pogo about all the math classes he took in college. Any profession with that much math was not going to float my boat.
I also discovered which horses were Footloose and Road Rage. Footloose shouldâve been named Lose-a-Foot. He treated campersâ feet the same way I wanted to treat spidersâhe smashed them. Heâd purposely wait for some innocent, unsuspecting person to walk up to him and then whammo ! Heâd slam his hoof down on their foot. He did it every time.
Road Rage was generally a pain in the rear end (and everywhere else for that matter). He didnât like going on trail rides. He would either try to scrape his rider off by rubbing against every tree we rode near, or he would take off down a trail until Doc could catch up, grab the reins, and lead him back to where the rest of us waited.
I just didnât see myself working with animals as a profession anytime soonâ¦or ever for that matter.
I also ruled out any professional sport whose equipment involved a ball. I could play a decent game of HORSE back home, but at Camp Minnehaha, my special basketball moves werenât appreciated.
We had learned some awesome things from
9:21 p.m.
WORST DAY EVERâ(much worse than Monday)!!!
A Ziploc bag is all that is keeping Mr. Snuffles togetherâI hate that goat. Mr. Snuffles was all I had left from my grandpa. I have NO DOUBT that Victoria let King Arthur out of his stall and fed him Mr. Snuffles! I hate her as much as I hate King Arthur.
I spent all afternoon cryingâat least when Victoria wasnât around. Itâs not that I care A LOT (just a little) about what she thinks, but I know sheâll only make my life more miserable if she sees me upset. Popular kids like her are like that. Nathn seemed clueless to the fact that I didnât eat anything at dinner and was sad. Heâs a good friend, but he can be pretty oblivious at times. I guess itâs good he didnât notice Iâd been cryingâhe might think Iâm a crybaby.
Pogo said Mr. Snuffles can be repaired, but I know that no amount of stuffing or stitching will be able to put him back the way he was.
A boy from the Seneca cabin, Miguel Fernandez, got the kindness award tonight. At least someone was happy. Coach Fox said it was for picking up a bunch of trash that had been blown around from a fallen trash can.
Friday, June 18
Assume Sign-Ups Will Be a Piece of Cake
The first week at Camp Minnehaha flew by faster than King Arthur could roll down a hill, eat an elephant, or dodge a chicken. Pogo and I spent all our free time together. Every once in a while, weâd spy Director Mudwimple driving the camp golf cart around the grounds, sometimes with a leash in one hand and sometimes with an iced tea. I was pretty sure I knew which animal the leash was for. Even though I didnât have any more run-ins with King Arthur, there were times when bushes would move and leaves would rustle for no apparent reason, and I would grab the closest stick to defend myself.
The only break from the miserable heat we had was the cool lake. The floating dock was by far our favorite thingâmainly because of the Taco and Burrito Wars. A group of campers (usually the sports jocks) would swim the gigantic dock out to the middle of the lake, and then weâd divide into two teams, Tacos or Burritos. We spent the whole time pushing the other team off the dock. It was King of the Hill, only with Mexican food. Pogo and Sebastian always picked the Taco team. Nathan and I were always Burritos.
It was also during the first week that I confirmed Iâd never be a veterinarian. In my opinion, animals were nothing but trouble. The thought of spending a week at a barn was not my idea of fun. Plus, there were way too many spiders there. And I donât mean small onesâI mean the kind that turn around and glare at you when you step on them.
Moreover, during one of the trail rides, Iâd overheard Doc telling Pogo about all the math classes he took in college. Any profession with that much math was not going to float my boat.
I also discovered which horses were Footloose and Road Rage. Footloose shouldâve been named Lose-a-Foot. He treated campersâ feet the same way I wanted to treat spidersâhe smashed them. Heâd purposely wait for some innocent, unsuspecting person to walk up to him and then whammo ! Heâd slam his hoof down on their foot. He did it every time.
Road Rage was generally a pain in the rear end (and everywhere else for that matter). He didnât like going on trail rides. He would either try to scrape his rider off by rubbing against every tree we rode near, or he would take off down a trail until Doc could catch up, grab the reins, and lead him back to where the rest of us waited.
I just didnât see myself working with animals as a profession anytime soonâ¦or ever for that matter.
I also ruled out any professional sport whose equipment involved a ball. I could play a decent game of HORSE back home, but at Camp Minnehaha, my special basketball moves werenât appreciated.
We had learned some awesome things from
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