These mornings the temperatures are a wee bit cooler so it seems that the ripples of the water sound clearer. Not that we are beachside every morn these days! Somehow our routine is different than it used to be. Not to worry though. I’m a patient lad and am starting to trust this human of mine more & more each day.
On the days we don’t get to our morning exercise, my excitement actually knows no bounds, because usually it means there’s a surprise coming later in the day.
For instance… we spent time at the harbour near the cliffs a few days ago. The small beach nearby was our first stop for some galloping exercise, followed by some leisurely lead-walking around the piers, past fisherpeople & campers, locals & tourists, boats & cars, dogs and cats.
CATS!! PLURAL!! I strained forcefully on the leash, but all to no avail, so had to content myself with what my human refers to as ‘good behaviour’. Onward we strolled towards the arched entrance to the cliff walk (now newly wheelchair accessible for public toilet purposes). Grandpa was with us that day but he & his super-carer paused on the little bench and did some people-watching by the pier while they waited for us to return.
The scenic beauty of this locale never fails to amaze me. The farmer’s crop on my right as we head off continues to flourish to the edge of the well-defined, springy pathway which has been trodden flat by walkers feet. To my left are sheared escarpments, ridges, rocks & hollows of various depths & dimensions. Always the same (since I’ve been here) yet always appearing varied in their colour & consistency, placement & layout.
It was busy! Lots of comings & goings…we passed walkers, strollers, loungers, fisherpeople, dogs their owners, groups, singletons…all sorts. We came upon a couple who were resting at the path’s edge with their little dog, Belle. (Yikes! Snappy! She didn’t like my waggy tail!).
‘Lovely name’, says my human.
‘We call her that ‘cos she’s our doorbell!’ The gent responded & they all chuckled.
Further along, a group of fisherpeople were returning to base… laden down with equipment, rods & cool boxes.
‘Catch much?’, asked my human.
‘N’ere a bite at all, girl’, was the response. His sad, empty bucket was at my eye level. I could have told her that myself.
‘Mackerel not in so?’, she questioned… but they were gone.
Time to do an about turn & get back to Grandpa. But not before pausing to study the edge-of-the-rock-based, hopeful technique of adults (mostly male) teaching kids (mostly male), all continually casting into the depths in the hope of at least a pollock for supper. Extended family members lay strewn around the flatter rocks close by with liquid refreshments, sandwiches & verbal support. The scent of sausages cooking on a disposable barbecue made me pause momentarily but my human said ‘ Not for you, Brufus’. And on we journeyed.
I’ve two songs to mention today. ‘More & More’ by Joe Dolan to start with, because this new life of mine just keeps on giving. But I also like the idea of ‘Ring My Bell’ by Anita Ward. In honour of the little Belle we met upon a bluff on a glorious August evening when the air surrounded us with contentment. Merely bluffing, she didn’t really mean to snap at me. 🎼🐾