Traveling anywhere in a Datsun 210 with 4 people, 2 cats, 1 dog and all the personal and household crap needed for vacation is not for the faint of heart. Young kids can aggravate you with constant whining about “Are we there yet?” and complaints like “Tell Peter not to touch me!” or “Bethany is looking at me!” But it becomes a true nightmare when the cats break out of their cardboard carriers and insist on sitting on both my shoulders, digging claws into my flesh and screaming deafening siren-like screams directly into my ears indicating their extreme displeasure about going anywhere in a car.

And then there’s Walter the Wonder Dog.

Walter was a good traveler.

Well, until carsickness set in. And it almost always set in.

“Dad, Walter puked!”

“Of course she did.”

“Just keep your feet off the floor.”

And when you understand that we were stuffed into that little blue Datsun 210 for almost three hours with no air conditioning and the windows rolled up to keep the screaming cats from jumping out, breathing in the noxious odor of dog vomit…

…well, now you get that the ride to Camp Singley was a special kind of Hell, right? Dante had 9 levels of Hell. We had at least 11. Maybe even 12.

But this was vacation and we weren’t going to let little annoyances like those get in the way of having a great time at Camp Singley!

But first we had to take Walter the Wonder Dog to a Vet.

When Dr. D handed over our pinned, stitched, and heavily bandaged dog before we left on vacation he instructed us to find a local Veterinarian near Camp Singley to change the dressings. “Give it about a week and keep her leg wrapped in plastic to keep it dry,” said Dr. D. So upon arriving at the lake task number one was finding a veterinary clinic.

“Hey, here’s one made just for us!”  Sandy beamed, looking up from the phone book. “The Holy Spirit Veterinary Clinic!” (Not its real name, but close!)

Thank you, Jesus!

So a week later the kids and I put Walter in the car and drove off to find the Holy Spirit Veterinary Clinic that God was clearly directing us to.

Stepping through the doorway we spotted a woman sitting at the reception desk. She was quite elderly with white hair. We stood there by the desk for several minutes before she looked up, a look of surprise on her face. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you! May I help you?”

I told her the story about Walter needing to have the dressings changed.

“Very well, ” she smiled. “Have a seat. The Dr. will be with you as soon as he wakes from his nap.”

Say what?

Not being one to argue with God about the wisdom of His guidance I directed the kids to the Highlights magazines and we sat down to wait for Dr. Whoever to wake from his mid-afternoon siesta.

Time passed. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

Just then the Ancient-of-Days receptionist looked up from what she was doing and gazed over at us. She smiled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you! May I help you?”

Uh oh.

I re-explained everything.

“Well let me go and wake up the Dr.,” she offered.

“Please.”

Several minutes later she emerged from the back room. “The Dr. will see you now.”

With Walter in tow, we walked back to the examining room. The Dr. was struggling to put on his white coat. I noticed his hands were trembling. I mean, REALLY trembling. Not only that, but there was a distinct odor of liquor on his breath.

We hoisted Walter up onto the examining table. I explained Dr. D’s directions about changing dressings. Without a word, the Vet studied Walter’s bandages for a second or two, then reached into a drawer, pulling out a pair of scissors to cut off the dressing.

He started in on the task but…his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get the scissors to work. All at once he stopped, glared at me, pushed the scissors in my direction, and huffed, “Here, YOU DO IT!”

And so I changed Walter the Wonder Dog’s dressings.

He charged me a hundred dollars.

As I held the door for the kids and Walter to exit the clinic, the receptionist looked up from whatever she was doing.

She smiled.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t see you! May I help you?”

Um, no.

On the way back to Camp Singley I scolded God for sending us to the Holy Spirit Veterinary Clinic.

God shot back, “Hey, the dressings got changed, right?”

Yeah.

“And now you have one hell of a story to tell!”

Gotta love God, huh?

(I originally planned 3 Parts to this story, but it looks like I need at least one more. Stay tuned!)