The room was already too big when they walked in. Bailey had been in it five minutes and was on the bed, and rswfire filmed him there — don't you look happy — in a space three or four times the size of the camper, with running water and air that moved and none of the dimensions his body had learned. He went to fill a bowl and turned the tap on slow, a trickle, because that was the reflex now. He noticed himself doing it. He said it out loud: it's wild, isn't it.
The chain that put them there was short and he could state every link. The camper had gotten too hot to be inside. He could not turn the power on. The dentist was a couple of hours away and the appointment was in the morning, which meant Bailey would be alone in an unconditioned box for most of a day, and that was the constraint the rest of the decisions bent around. So he booked two nights. In the morning he would drive to the camper place, find out what was wrong and how long it would take, and deal with it as soon as he could. That was the whole plan. He did not extend it past that.
He could not sleep, and said so plainly — of course I can't — and named the reason without decoration: he does not like hotels, he belongs in his RV. Bailey did not settle either, sitting up in the dark taking in the sounds of a building that ran on unfamiliar noises. So rswfire talked, and what came out was diagnosis. When he got the RV there was no power cable and none to be found at Lowe's, so his father built one. That was the first burnt thing he had shown the camera. It had probably worked loose, and loose meant arcing, and arcing burnt the power inlet. The air conditioner and the dehumidifier had run nonstop all week through the heat. I didn't know that was like a problem. The fuses had been blowing all week and he had a surge protector and could not understand why the protector wasn't the thing failing instead — he had lived in a house where three rooms shared a circuit because it was built badly, and blowing fuses had never meant anything there, so he hadn't put it together, hadn't thought to ask. He said so much to learn and left it there, hoping the inlet was all of it.
Then he addressed the people watching. Some had emailed kind things and he wanted them to hear the boundary clearly: if they couldn't help, they should not feel bad about it, because that is not what the channel is for and never was. It had been a stressful day and he was a little concerned and he was not going to be more concerned than the day required. Take things as they come and just deal with them. That, he said, is all I can really do.
Bailey put a paw on him, the way he does, always touching. rswfire mentioned that earlier, when he'd gone back out to the Jeep for Bailey's things, he could hear the meowing through the hotel door on his way back — and said he hoped that wouldn't be a problem tomorrow, when he'd have to leave for hours. Then goodnight, and a hope that the week went well for everyone.
Later, outdoors, near the Jeep: a party had left their campfire burning and walked away from it. He was already moving toward it while he spoke. That is how forest fires start. He said it was unbelievable, said they were disrespectful, and then said he was going to go put it out for them — and crossed the ground to the site to do it. No further comment on the people. The fire went out.
Closer quarters after that, and a scratcher only a couple of days old and already shredded, which he counted as it working. He'd bought a harness the same day. He'd tried it on Bailey and Bailey wasn't ready, so he'd keep working at it, because he wanted to take him on little walks. You got to let me do it, Bailey. You'll love it. Two nights in a foreign room, and everything in it oriented back toward the camper.