Where the wild things are

Late afternoon amble at the beach after work as the tide yawned in the heat and reluctantly started to mosey on in.

Sam's get up and go was staying put. He looked wiped out by waves of mini heatwaves that forced him to stop, sit and lie down on a bed of pebbles. Not the makings of a peaceful siesta. Not with mad max barking instructions to throw something, anything, "just throw me a god damn stick or a stone now human!"

Betty just runs around making sure the pack stays together, warily grumphing at strangers and bounding between us with a huge grin. Yes, she does smile, no really, she does.