Monday, March 9
The crew and I are camped at Las Vegas Bay Campground in Lake Mead National Recreation Area east of Las Vegas, Nevada.
One of the campers at Las Vegas Bay Campground
Bridget and Reggie have had breakfast, a quick walk around the campground loop, and a short nap on the bed next to me while I’m online this morning. I do a search for “Smith’s Grocery in Las Vegas, NV” and find one of their stores is located on the east side of town. Great!
Joe, the foster dad for Reggie, told me that Smith’s sells marrow bones sawed into discs for dogs. Reggie likes eating the marrow and chewing the bones. I want to buy him and Bridget some of those, and also I want to purchase dog toys.
This little boy needs to be occupied!
I don’t stop for photos because I want to complete our shopping before the day becomes hot. We’re delayed anyway be construction, about twenty minutes. During that time Reggie starts to chew on his brand new, red leash.
“No, Reggie. No, you don’t do that.”
He looks up at me and doesn’t chew it anymore.
“Good boy.”
I love driving into Las Vegas from the east.
Hills along Lake Mead Boulevard
I plan to post more (and better) photos of the drive before we leave this area. One travels on a winding road through rocky, “painted” hills with no buildings to suddenly emerge to a view of the city, spread out below. The “skyline” is beautiful against the Spring Mountains with their snow-covered peaks.
At Smith’s I slide the PTV into a parking place shaded by the front of the store building.
Bridget starts to bark for a walk-around. Oh no, I hope she doesn’t teach Reggie to bark. I grab my camera and keys, and set the pups on the pavement. Reggie doesn’t make a sound and Bridget stops barking. I lead them straight to a place where they can do their business.
The culture of the city is a striking contrast to what I’m accustomed.
A car goes by, thumping and vibrating to the bass of “music.” A twenty-something man jogs across the parking lot, darting around vehicles. He’s wearing neon orange shoes (untied, of course) and baggy pants hanging low to display his underwear. A couple approaches us on the sidewalk along the storefronts. The man talks loudly as they pass and uses the f-word twice within the span of one sentence fragment.
“That’s a bad word, Reggie. Close up your ears and don’t ever say it, okay?”
I secure the crew in the PTV in order to shop.
Nice store. Prices are okay. Good produce. I pick up navel oranges, pinata apples (something new to try), bananas, red peppers, an onion, broccoli, green beans, and celery.
The butcher shows me where to find the marrow bones.
They’re frozen and cost $2.19 a pound. I buy two packs.
This will make the crew very happy. Smiling, I push the cart over to the pet aisle. I pick out three balls of varied sizes and a long, lime-green, stuffed dog that is temptingly squeezable and lets out a little squeak when pressure is applied. Reggie will like this! I’ll get him more toys at a place where they aren’t as expensive.
On the way to check-out, I grab a rotisserie chicken.
Reggie is excited when I show him the lime dog. I tear off the tag and set it on the passenger seat, along with one of the balls. I put the groceries on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The rotisserie chicken, it’s aroma coming out of the bag and filling the air around us, goes safely on my lap for the ride home.
“Let’s go home and have some fun! I got bones, Bridge.”
The Lake Mead Boulevard construction gives us another twenty-minute wait.
But this time we have rotisserie chicken to share!
“Might as well have a picnic, right, guys?”
I don’t give them much because I don’t want to upset Reggie’s stomach. I close up the bag of chicken and soon we’re at our camp, disembarking the PTV with our goodies.
Puppy cam time!
Kind of.
I set up the pen between the PTV and the BLT where it’s shady. I put my camp chair right next to it, under the awning. Bridget sniffs the marrow bones and walks away. I step inside to finish putting away the groceries. When I go out again, Reggie is standing with both bones at his feet. The marrow is gone.
“Well, look what you have!”
Bridget moves in, takes one of the bones away from Reggie, settles down and begins gnawing happily. Reggie doesn’t mind.
He chews on the other bone for a minute and then remembers . . .
There’s that lime-green dog that needs to be shown who’s boss!
He grabs it with his jaws and shakes it ferociously.
Chews mercilessly on its ear! Bites it until it squeaks!
Flips the dog right out of the bed and quickly grabs it before it can get away!
The action is a blur as Reggie fastens his powerful jaws in a death-grip on his victim and finishes him off!
Oh, there goes a car . . . .
Bridget and Reggie gnaw and play contentedly for about a half-hour and then, just as quickly as the fun began, it stops.
Nap time!
rvsue
THANKS FOR SHOPPING AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!
Warning to lime-green, squeaky dogs everywhere: Do not mess with The Reggie Man!
