I had hit rock bottom. Three weeks of traveling around in the white trash-mobile eating bad food, having none of my cheap toys and sleeping on cheap linens had led me to my leashes end. Every vets office that we passed made me want to hop out and ask for the big needle trip to the sky.
Then, two days ago, my mom and dad put the rest of their belongings into a stinky UHaul moving van and threw me and my brother into the car. A UHaul van? What were we? Evicted from our crappy apartment?
Then, rock bottom. My parents pulled into another KOA. This time, they rented a "cabin". 
This cabin had a full sized rubber coated mattress and two bunk beds. That was it. Prisoners get more room and better accomodations than what my dad got for us that night. (I enjoyed listening as he got yelled at worse than what Mr. Wendell got when he pee'd on my mom's dining room table leg.)
Prisoners at least get running water, cable TV and a light. This was a wooden garden shed. I ran out on the porch with out my leash and hoped that I would be eaten by a bear. I realized that the nightmare would not end and that my life was hell.
The following morning, after enduring a night of my grandfather's freight train volume level snoring, my moms muttering of profanites at my father every five minutes and watching my "short bus riding " brother wag his tail and smile like we were staying at Club Med, I knew that all of the bad things I did (peeing off the pad, chasing those cats, stealing Mr. Wendell's treats, butt walking on my mom's pillow out of spite) were coming back to haunt me.
Then, in the hollows of my dispair, my mom put her arm around me and explained that we were moving to a new home in downtown San Francisco. San Francisco!!!! Beautiful weather, special dog shopping experiences and culture. I could not stop wagging my tail.
We are moving in today...I cannot wait to get back to my old life in a new place. I will let you know how it goes!
Pep!!
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