We have our beach back! The tourists and teens are gone, very gone. The beach is empty. To windy for all but the hardiest wind surfers - is that you Senator Kerry - and the local dog walkers.
Byron loves the beach, he enjoys digging in the sand, barking at the seagulls, and rolling in all those smelly things the ocean specializes in throwing on to the beach. Our beach...
Today's walk was in the path of a friend who had walked the beach earlier. He has a very large dog, a stately dog, who walks with measured steps. Each step he sinks into the sand, leaving a large footprint. You know he has passed this way. Byron is different.
Byron does not walk, he prances, he pops, he weaves his way through life. He leaves the tinniest of prints, his foot touches the sand so lightly, for such a short time. Does he really touch the sand, or does he fly over it? He does imprint the sand at times. When he sees a friend, or a stranger who has not had a chance to be a friend yet.
Then his stride changes, he has a goal, a target, someone might go an entire day without petting a dog, unless he can get to them. Sometimes he startles people with his brashness. He simply assumes they want to pet him and he assumes the position. He will not nudge them with his nose, or scratch with his paw. He waits for them to realize he is there, to feel the weight of his stare. And then, victory he gets the attention of a stranger.
Sigh, far to many people must think I neither feed nor pet him. He so lives for attention.