My sister’s office had a work-picnic/dog-party the other day, in honor of the long weekend. For some reason, my lovely and vivacious wife and I were invited. Never one to pass up a free trip to a beautiful lake, we loaded up the tater into the family car and made the big drive over to Beaverfork Lake, located just outside of Conway, Arkansas.
Sadly, I saw neither beavers nor forks.
The picnic itself was at a cabin owned by the boss’s friends—and by “cabin”, of course I mean “palatial villa with exquisite landscaping and every type of lake recreational vehicle known to man.” My wife and I may be tagalongs and loafers, but we certainly choose the best company to latch on to.
And it was a beautiful day—the sky was gorgeous, and the breeze cut into the heat as we lazed beneath giant shade-giving trees on the private beach eating Doritos and burgers. Even the tater—normally so reserved and calm—got into the fun as she splashed around the lake water with the other dogs.
The owners let me take out a jet-ski, and I skipped across the surface of the perimeter of the lake at speeds up to 55 mph, spinning water-cookies and giggling like a school-girl as the water sprayed up into my smiling face.
It was a glorious day, and as we left the lake at 2:00, we were all happy and exhausted.
The very next day, my lovely and vivacious wife and I attended a dinner-party at my sister’s house. During the meal, another attendee happened to mention a story that she read in the newspaper that day: Apparently, authorities closed down Beaverfork Lake at about 4:00 the previous day due to the lake having nearly 8 times the “safe” amount of e-coli.
Talk about bringing down the party. The four of us who had spent the previous day splashing around the feces-infested lake-water were left speechless.
Which raises the question: How much e-coli is considered “safe”?
It was difficult to enjoy the rest of the dinner party, as for the remainder of the evening the four of us concentrated only on not pooping blood.