Last weekend, my family and some friends camped on the north rim of the Grand Canyon in an area where few other people lived. The one trio of people we met had a dog with them and it was a delight. They were walking past our campsite as we were playing cards in the shade.
Meatball, a friendly Boston Terrier, walked up to us and his people shouted, “Meatball!” to encourage him to return to them. All of us in the card game immediately shouted greetings to welcome Meatball and he came over to visit us instead. (The one person in our group who was napping at the time was very confused that we all suddenly said, “Meatballs!” In ridiculously happy voices.)
The dog walked around and met each of us, wagging his whole bum the whole time. He licked most of us, which might be indicative of his friendly manner, but could also be explained by the delicious layers of sweat and dirt we all had so late on our camping trip. After trying all of our delicious legs, he set off with his own people.
We saw meatballs later that evening as our two groups were watching the sunset from a nearby lookout. He hung out with us even more than his own group, which I wanted as a compliment. In reality, he was more comfortable with us because our perches were easier to get to for watching the sunset and didn’t have steps too big for a Boston Terrier to maneuver. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our extra time with him and everyone later discussed that meeting him was one of the best parts of the trip.