BeAnne and I haven’t been to the beach for ages so I squished her into her car-harness, into the car and off we went.
She was straight out and straight into the water. She loves water. Possibly an otter in a previous life.
The beach was empty apart from the seabirds.
Lots of Arctic Terns (“Tirricks”) screaming at me and flying overhead.
In my pockets were two tennis balls. BeAnne likes beach entertainment.
And the ball came too
It was lovely. The perfect afternoon walk.
I kept looking behind me to check we were not littering.
Because sometimes we were, so I would go back and pop the ball into my pocket.
There was enthusiam!
(the wee bunched bottooom!)
Try as I might, BeAnne will never be a retriever. More your resentful you-can’t-have-my-bally breed!
Though, it was sometimes ditched.
You have no idea just how much I love walking with Her Maj. Her little smiley face, her partial hearing and possibly-obedience – it all makes my heart happy.
We walked up and down the beach.
I even found five “groatie buckies” – cowrie shells, which I never see. Not ever. I always look and when I do, I pounce on them thinking I am the luckiest person alive. Five is like a field day.
Are these Turnstones?
Anywho my little “otter” was happy.
And then spied “intruders” (she does love an intruder and I feel a little embarrassed for the poor person who thought they could enjoy the beach too).
Yes, the Patterdale terrier breeding came out – woof, woof, woof.
And more woof in case the “intruder” had not heard.
I went home.
Obviously with Her Maj. She will sleep well tonight.
She is remembering her ruddy bally-ball.
They are now in my coat pocket – a tad soggy!