In mid-morning a prospective puppy purchaser came to meet us at the Sanctuaire. She’d contacted me a month or so back and I’d offered to meet her during our trip so she could see Mo and check us out, and me her. She was a very outgoing lady and likely a good dog owner, though it emerged she wasn’t necessarily looking to buy a puppy from Mo’s upcoming litter but possibly down the road, once her current dog (aged 9 and not faring well) passes on.
Button and Mustang had been fishing along the St Lawrence prior to the lady coming and, after greeting her and posing for pictures with her and MoMo, I told them to come to the bus “and don’t forget the fishing rod” which they’d been using mere moments before. But the fishing rod was nowhere to be found. Button had last had it down along the river, but had likely dropped it once the lady came in his excitement to meet her. We walked along the entire shore, looking for it, and even asked at the campground office if anyone had turned it in. Nothing. I was rather disappointed, not merely because we’d only had it less than a week and used it all of twice, but also because this was after all a Christian sanctuary and wouldn’t you expect people coming here to be honest folk? Apparently not. Although the folk along the riverbank were not necessarily pilgrims but could also have been general city folk enjoying the beach.
A final wave good-bye to the Sanctuaire and we once again boarded the bus for the final leg of our journey home.
At supper-time we finally rounded the corner to our house and gave a cheer! Home at last!
It was good holiday and an adventure for us all, but it was good to be back home.
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