So, we're thinking of going camping despite the Curiously Deflating Airbeds of 2003 Incident but this time I want to take the dog even though I know he will get stuck down a hole, up a tree, end up in someone else's suitcase or get prickles in his armpits and make me carry him two hours to the nearest pair of scissors, all of which has happened before.
The first camping ground I rang to see if pooches were allowed said they weren't.
With no exceptions, ever, even for a dim witted kerry blue terrier, I asked?
"Well, I suppose we probably wouldn't even see that dog," said the campground owner.
"I was just about to say that myself," I concurred.
"Well, just pop in then."
About three hours round the East Cape is another campground which I thought would make a splendid second camping spot. Sadly, they did not take dogs either.
"Nobody round here takes dogs any more," the lady told me.
Well, we would just have to do a very long drive with our dim witted kerry blue terrier, I sighed.
"Or you could ring my brother, Arnie, who lives along the beach. He'll let you stay at his place. Just tell him his sister said it's OK."