The dog can’t believe we’ve taken off his leash, and in a place like this. He runs towards the sea, his paws four scuttling shadows on the darker sand. He plants his scruffy bandy legs and pivots back to me, trembling with a thudding hope.
“It’s ok, go on!” I call, and he’s off in giddy fits and starts, like a rope uncoiled and flung, again and again.
He studies a puddle. Its smell makes no sense. But c’mon, he wasn’t born yesterday, he knows water when he sees it. A pink fingernail tongue hovers and descends. He freezes with disbelief.
He runs back to me, trying to shake it off.
Later, as I fall asleep on the Airbnb’s firm bed, his body smeared against my thigh, I wonder if that saltwater dram held more than I could guess, did he hear a lonely moan as, out in the bay, the buoy tilted, did he smell dolphin sweat (if they do), watch the seaweed clambering ashore?
thanks to Robert and everyone, for a wonderful fall.winter