Growing Up Bigfoot In the Pacific Northwest
My Dad wasn't an ordinary Dad. Every weekend, during the spring and summer time, sometimes fall, my family would pack up and learn about survival skills. My Mom would make peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, bring a bag a plain potato chips, and a cooler with ice which was filled with glass bottles of soda. A giant Coleman cooler with water in was always with us too. But, we were not allowed to eat or drink what was brought to the camp. My Dad showed us how to fish, trap wild rabbits, showed what plants we could and could not eat. How to collect rain water and water from the river. I hated going as i got older but one year was different. We camped at this one area we had never been before. My Dad jokingly said to be on the look out for Bigfoot. Oregon is well known for Bigfoot sightings. I didn't believe in Bigfoot. My Dad did. He always told us stories about that large hairy ape-like man and how many people seen it and seen the feet prints in mud or grass. The first day was my turn to gather wood for the fire. I was a few feet from the campsite when I started picking up different sizes of tree limbs when I realized, I was in a thick wooded area. I turned around and I could hear my family talking but could not see them. I started walking fast. I thought I heard crunching behind me. I walked faster. I tripped and fell. I got myself up and gathered the limbs. I hear this weird growl.My dad taught me what sounds each animal makes but I have never heard this sound before. I turned around and scanned the trees. I see nothing except the corner of my eye I see something move. It was dark in color and it moved carefully behind each tree. As it got closer, I could smell something nasty. An awful dirty dog smell. I cannot describe it only as that. This thing did not move after it walked behind four trees. It felt like it was looking at me. At first, I thought it was a bear. But bears will continue to walk and make this gruffing noise. I knew I had to run. So, I dropped the wood and ran back to the camp screaming at the top of my lungs. My Dad grabbed his rifle and told me to show him where I saw this thing. I saw my pile of wood. I pointed and told him what I saw. He asked me if it smelled like this when I was here. I told him yes. he told me stay. he walked around to the back of the trees. he then waved me over. I walked over and he pointed down at the ground. there on the ground was this enormous foot print that pressed down the pine needles into the dirt. I could not believe what I saw. My dad told me to run back to the camp and get the camera. I did what i was told. he let me take the picture. We went back to the camp. My Dad stayed up all nigh making sure whatever it was didn't come back. I knew what it was and so did my Dad. Bigfoot was real and now I am a believer.
“Google, what happens when you eat dog food?”
“Jackie? Are you ready to go to bed?”
Hmmm. No response. That's weird
"Jackie! We can play hide and seek after you get your jammies on!"
Still no response?
"...Jackie?"
I was starting to get worried. I looked around for the toddler, but I couldn’t find him anywhere!
Is he in his room? No, but he sure did leave a monsterous pile of trucks and action figures for me to step on.
Maybe he’s in his parents’ roo- No, wait. The door to his parents’ room was locked before I got here.
Maybe he’s just in the bathroom… Nope! All of the bathroom doors are open. Where could he have possibly gone?
Frustrated, I ran downstairs. Before I stepped foot on the halfway through the stairs, I heard it. Rustling near the pantry. Considering how the dog, Charlie, was lying on her bed, I scrambled downstairs.
…
OH MY GOD!
It took me a second to realize I never unlocked the pantry when I went to make Jackie dinner. My brain flashed to every possible thing that could have harmed the 5 year old: the plastic plate high up, the random spices he could’ve shoved mouthfuls of, enough candy to stay up an entire week without sleep, and the open bag of dog kibble.
I yanked the door, (feeling like I nearly ripped the handle off.) And there he was. The acrid smell filled the room. In the middle of the pantry, surrounded by cans and pasta boxes, Jackie held a tiny fistful of dry dog food. The clip was off the bag, and I calmly freaked out.
"Ohhh... Shoot! Jackie, how much of that have you eaten???"
"Uhh, I don't know." And he continued to try and put more of the kibble in his mouth.
"Jackie, stop that! You aren't supposed to eat Charlie's food!"
"But I wanted to see if it was any good!"
He's so lucky he didn't choke on the pellets. Thank God he's still alive. But I was terrified of any possible side effects. Not wanting to wait at the Intensive Care Unit and angering Mr. and Mrs. Katz, I turned to my only companion: Google.
I typed, "What happens when you eat dog food?" afraid of the possible results.
Thankfully, the results assured me that, while it tasted awful, eating dog food once wouldn't kill Jackie. To be safe, I promptly called poison control, and they told me that he may feel a little nauseous, but should be fine in the long run.
I cleaned up the pantry, left a note for his parents, and took Jackie to bed. He was surprisingly more than willing to pick up his toys and put pj's on.
"Marwee?"
"Yeah, Jackie?"
"Am I gonna be awight?"
"You're going to be just fine! I'm going to stay by you tonight in case anything happens though, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you!"
I turned around to turn off the lights, but Jackie stopped me.
"Wait! Wait! Marwee, can you read me a story?"
He seemed so excited, despite what happened. I smiled and grabbed his favorite book: The Very Hungry Caterpillar.