Stanley is a very cool dog. A totally rambunctious one year old who is never entirely sure that humans are right.
His passions seem to be digging enormous holes on the beach.
and chasing shorebirds, which I honestly think he thinks he can catch.
Dogs. Duh. You can’t catch things that fly. Do the math. Get over it.
The shorebirds were spectacular! They never just split, but got just far enough away. No need to waste extra energy. It’s an idiot dog. Duh.
So within about a 200′ length of the beach they would cut and streak and pause and literally fly circles around dear Stanley, as he chased and chased and chased, and…..
He was incapable of figuring out it was a lost cause and they would tantalize him with streaking 180 degree banked turns an inch off the sand, and only feet from his frothed nose. So close, but so totally unattainable.
Then they’d land and act like nothing at all had happened. Oh look! A bug. Lots of the big Nascar turns were right around me, within a few feet. It was incredible to watch.
Meanwhile Stanley is beside himself. How is it possible that he couldn’t catch one? They were so close. It bothered him.
Finally he was whipped and just stood in the wave wash just offshore. I’d taken him off leash. First time. I couldn’t stand seeing him strain at the end of the 20’er. There was no one on the beach. Low tide, so lots of beach.
He had the blast of his lifetime. Think about never letting your kid off a leach in public, and then finally allowing the freedom. It didn’t escape Stanley as he stood just offshore.
I’m supposed to be good with dogs. Raised with nothing but on a remote farm in NJ back in the 50s. The mayor, Spec McCue, owned the general store and delivered pizzas to whoever was at our farm table on a Sunday night. My mom rang a big bell by the kitchen door each night to call me and the dogs home.
Stanley likes to dig holes. It’s actually a passion, especially on the sand on the beach. He can vanish in those holes. Just his curly tail and rear paws sticking up. Suspended. He’ll work on it for a half hour easy. I’d just take a beach chair and the 20’er and pretty soon I wouldn’t even know he was there. Dig, dig, dig, and then lay over, and then still dig, sort of halfheartedly, put what the hell? Why not? Then he’d really get back at it again.
So I started digging a hole and the hole digging pro came over to supervise. Wow, I outsmarted a dog!?!
The next morning it worked out differently. 🙂
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