"A good man is hard to find," my mother declared on our annual October trip to close the family cottage in Maine for the winter. "And it's even harder to find one who will let you stick your cold feet under his legs at night," she continued with authority.
Before realizing that I could be opening myself up to a case of TMI, I asked if my father let her warm her feet under his legs.
"Oh no," she stated. "He always complained that my toenails were too sharp. He called me Saber Toe".
My sister, Liz and I giggled at the nickname and vowed to call our mother "Saber Toe" as much as possible that weekend. The moniker, however, ended up being awarded to my sister's dog, Bronte, before the long weekend was over.
Bronte was a sweet small to medium sized dog that looked to be part shepherd and part origins unknown. Despite several walks during the day, jaunts on the rocky sea side and car rides with her head stuck out the passenger window, Bronte was a night owl. I'm not sure when she slept...if ever!
Everyone went to bed at the same time in our dormitory-style second floor sleeping area. Bronte had a dog bed and blanket on the floor next to Liz's bed. Bronte would patiently wait until everyone was sound asleep and then her nightly activities would commence. She would carefully check on each sleeper like a night nurse in the hospital, scanning for vital signs by nudging an exposed hand with her cold damp nose. Liz sleeps deeply as was demonstrated when she was seven years old and her bedroom ceiling crashed on her. Bronte's nudges to check for alertness went unnoticed by my sister. Bronte's toenails clicked loudly on the wood floors as she approached each bed. Unsatisfied with the less than enthusiastic responses, she clicked and tapped and scraped and scratched down the pine stairs to the wooden floors below. Her nocturnal journey through the living room, dining room and kitchen was mapped by the sharp staccato clicks of her saber toes.
Each night Bronte's saber toes tapped out secret Morse code messages that were intercepted by everyone except her owner. I recalled that when Liz lived in Atlanta, she slept soundly locked away in her bedroom while her two cats tried to kill each other all night long in the living room, rudely trampling the unlucky guest (me) on the couch.
Luckily, Liz and Saber Toe departed Maine early and I looked forward to a good night's sleep at my Aunt and Uncle's house outside of Boston. It would be an easy drive to the airport in the morning and I hoped to avoid traffic with an early start. Alas, the Saber Toe curse had followed me from Maine in the form of my relatives! Despite their age, my mother, aunt and uncle treated the visit like a preteen slumber party chattering into the wee hours of the morning while creaking and tapping and clicking and shuffling on the wooden floors outside my bedroom door...
Ever since I adopted Chase in 2003, I have wanted to introduce him to my family’s lake front cottage in Maine. I had many happy childhood memories and I was positive that my dog would enjoy paddling around the lake and chasing the chipmunks. The problem was it takes 18 hours to drive there and I couldn’t bring myself to put him on a plane. Over the summer, my dream was made a reality and I packed up my car, buckled in my dog and drove to Virginia to meet my friend Tracy and her family who planned on caravanning with us. Chase was happy to see his dog friend, Riley, for the first time in several months. Our first stopping point was in Pennsylvania. Tracy’s mother was out of town and graciously allowed all of us, including the two dogs, to take over her home for the night. The next day we drove on to the cottage, arriving in the late afternoon. My sister started a journal several years ago for visitors to the summer home to document their stay, recommend restaurants or other places to shop. At the end of the week-long stay, Chase dutifully dictated his thoughts to be put in the journal and I have decided to share my dog’s viewpoint of his vacation in Maine…
July 9, 2009
Today is my last day in Sanford. I wasn’t sure if I was going to like it very much here at first. On night #1, Jeanne told me that Aunt Kathy told her I was to stay off all furniture. Aunt Kathy wasn’t even brave enough to stick around to tell me herself. At least I could have growled at her. So for the first night I slept on the floor on my blanket…really “ruffing” it. The next morning I was awoken by men knocking on the roof. I wasn’t sure what they wanted but me and my pack (Dolly and Riley) tried to let them know that we had a door and they should knock there. For some reason we all got yelled at and told to be quiet. These men kept knocking on the roof all day long! They didn’t seem to be very bright. The next day, one of my favorite people in the whole wide world came to visit me…Liz! I hadn’t smelled her in months! After a brief reunion, Sarah and her friend took me away to see the VET. I didn’t like the VET. He stuck a thermometer up my butt. How rude! I mean, its one thing to sniff a butt however this guy had to take it the extra mile! Then it was off to Midas for an oil change. On the car…not me! I got to hang out in the clover watching cars go by for about 30 minutes. It was a beautiful day. Dolly took advantage of my absence by stealing ALL of my toys. The men knocking on the roof apparently discovered the main door and took away the stairs. Me and my dog posse still managed. It wasn’t too bad of a jump but boy was it hard to get back up! Then 
time for bed and I mean BED. Yes Aunt Kathy! I was now allowed back in the bed. Tracy, Steve and Sarah watched a movie in one. Liz cuddled with me for a bit until Sarah decided I was being a traitor. I had sweet dog dreams until about 6:45 AM. These people in Maine are INSANE! The men were back knocking on the roof putting lots of holes in it and it was RAINING. It was bad enough that I couldn’t sleep but then Steve decided to take away my primary fresh water drinking source and put it outside. He also kept the lid down so it couldn’t even fill up with rain water. So…no stairs, no toilet and no sleep. Me, Steve, Sarah and Ruth took a car ride to Shane’s for breakfast. Ruth and I stayed in the car. Later we met up with Liz and Tracy for shopping at Marshalls. Ruth and I stayed in the car. Ruth shared her blanket with me and we got some sleep before heading back to the demolition house. Everyone was making a big deal about no toilet. Everyone kept driving to Wendy’s a lot. Me and my dog posse didn’t understand why all our people walk us around outside to do our business yet they felt the need to drive somewhere else for indoor facilities? Ok…well…I think Sarah went outside. I was sworn to secrecy but I haven’t forgiven her for the VET. The new drinking source was finally installed in the house with the secondary one outside. I was really beginning to like this place until….6 AM…men knocking on the roof! What is wrong with this town? This time I managed to let out one weak bark before Sarah grabbed me and smothered me under the covers. Abuse! Abuse! I gave up barking. The drinking fountain outside vanished but we now have stairs. Sarah, Steve and Tracy did a lot of talking through the floor boards but all seemed to be okay with the bathroom and kitchen today. No rain, no more holes in the roof (dogs CAN look up by the way). I got to nap a lot today…even cuddled up w
ith Steve on Aunt Kathy’s bed (yes Aunt Kathy, you read that right) for a long snooze while Commander Vic took Sarah to the hospital for a tetanus shot (payback for thermometer up my butt perhaps?) Tracy made a fabulous smelling macaroni and cheese for supper but alas, no dogs allowed. So sad. I am now waiting to see if Justin and Ruth will share S’mores with me later. Speaking of Ruth, she was so nice to me today making sure I was all tucked in under a blanket in the recliner. Justin even rocked me to sleep a bit, too. I love vacations. These are the dog days of summer.
~ Chase
P.S. I Love you Aunt Kathy!
Note: The cottage underwent renovations during our stay to include a new roof and new skylights, new porch and stairs at the front door and a new toilet. Aunt Kathy is the caretaker of the cottage while my family is not there because she lives 17 hours closer than us.
"Oh no," she stated. "He always complained that my toenails were too sharp. He called me Saber Toe".
