Living in the Beach

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The floor is gritty with sand, and my feet are covered in it. And I’m just going to have to get used to it. You see, we’ve decided to take the girls to dog beach every weekend this summer. How can we not? Could you say no to a face like that?

So the dogs shed sand all over the house for a few days. So what? We’ll just have to vacuum mid-week. And live in a light dusting of sand. What the heck, we can pretend we’re living on a beach in the Bahamas. Let it never be said that my imagination let me down.

I burst out laughing yesterday, for no apparent reason, to Andy’s confusion. One of the dogs had been lying on the floor. When she got up and walked away, she left behind… a perfect silhouette in sand. Sparkling away in the sun. Like the tape outline of a body at a crime scene. Fantastic.

This, by the way, is Ditto, who is 10. Not that we’ve ever told her how old she is. She wouldn’t believe us anyway.