Dog on the beach

We do not have a dog. In fact, we’ve never had one. However, over lockdown, I must admit I’ve come to watch the dog walkers on the beach with a degree of envy. 

Here are creatures that run back and forth at your command, fetch the balls or sticks you throw, look at you adoringly - or so it seems.  They have personalities. It looks fun. 

If it was left to me, we might have joined the throngs who purchased lockdown puppies, but G, ever sensible, wants nothing to do with it. ‘Get a dog’, he says, ‘but it will be down to you to look after it, feed it, take it for walks, clean up after it ...... I’m having nothing to do with it.’ 

And so I remain a watcher not an owner. I have started to smile at dogs and talk to them, fondling their heads if they look friendly. Dog owners seem to like any adoration of their charges, glowing with pride when you recognise just how special their canine is.  I’m even starting to ask owners if I can photograph their dogs. They like that too. 

But most of all, it’s watching them from afar; watching them running ecstatically along the sands, often mirrored by the retreating tidal wetness, or playfully romping in the waves - like today’s capture, splashing through the water, ears splayed in the wind.  All the beauty with none of the hard work. 

But I know I’m missing out.