A perfect day, that is.
They’re few and far between in this time of coronavirus. Today was one such. Despite the frightening things happening in the south of the country, we had the sensation of being a million miles away from the trouble. The day was pleasantly warm and beautifully sunny. We had nothing pressing to do apart from loading the dishwasher to deal with last night’s family barbecue. So we decided that the Husband and I and doggo would go and do something we hadn’t done for a while.
Have brunch at the beach.
Doggo lay on his quilt under the table, peacefully digesting his puppacino while we demolished our Eggs Benedict, the Husband’s with excellent locally-cured bacon, and mine with garlicky mushrooms and extra hollandaise (they never give you enough). After we’d topped it off with coffee, Mouse made it known that he wished to visit the beach across the road. (In case you’re wondering, he starts hopping on the spot and dancing with impatience, with his ears pricked.)
Righto, Mouse, your wish is our command. He loves walking on the beach, the sand is a pleasant surface for him – softer than the road, less impeding than grass. He’s always straining slightly to run, but we’ve never let him off leash because he could be out of earshot in a few seconds. A colleague of the Husband’s had suggested that a sandbar surrounded by incoming or ebbing tide might be a good place to let him run, because he’d have nowhere to go. We tried that, wading out knee-deep to a good-sized sandbar surrounded by water.
A delighted doggo took four steps on the sandbar, then leapt into the water, bounded up to the main beach and started to run. Before we could expire of a heart attack, we saw that he was doing a figure 8 around other people there instead of heading into the sunset. When I called him, he came, after one more lightning-fast loop, splashing back to us and bounding up with a huge grin on his pointy face. We made a big fuss of him and told him he was a Very Good Boy.
Of course after that he needed to shake off all over us a couple of times, submit to having his paws de-sanded, shake off again and leap into the car, still with the huge grin on his chops. Clearly an isolated sandbar is no impediment. We’d imagined he might be deterred, having previously indicated he was not keen on actual waves. Obviously that was all forgotten, and he is now Sea Dog. Luckily he doesn’t smell of wet dog in the car. And also luckily, he doesn’t mind being hosed down at home to get rid of the salt.
Our blood pressure has returned to normal, doggo has napped all afternoon, the Husband has fixed the scooter lights and I have done my chores. I can’t forget the sheer delight on that pointy black face, and the gift of speed he enjoyed so much. What a pleasure it is to make your dog happy…
Today, all is well in our world.