This is a sponsored post for Pet Circle
On a quiet Sunday afternoon, the sound of a dog howling breaks the silence.
It’s a mournful sound, this song he sings. It speaks of loneliness, and abandonment and utter devastation. He thinks he is alone; he doesn’t know that I’m still here. He thinks we have all gone.
Gone to the beach, and left him here alone.
It’s his favourite place in the world, the beach. He loves all parts of it; best of all though, are the long, flat plains on which to run and run and run, releasing all that energy that just builds up inside of him.
There are so many things to smell at the beach. Dead fish or rotten wood, or the carcass of a forgotten crab. All those things that his people avoid, he relishes in; delighting in their presence in the way only a dog can.
There are birds at the beach. Seagulls and Molly Gulls that come from seemingly know where to crowd around in the presence of food. And they fly from him. They get close and then they leave; it’s an amazing chase, and there is nothing he loves more than the chase.
Then there’s the water. Whilst he doesn’t love it as much as his people do, he does love it. There’s nothing like racing out into the waves, only to realise how cold and wet it is, and feel the need to race back out again. Over and over and over he does it, smiling the way a dog does, each and every time.
If it’s a good day, a hot day, there will be other people at the beach, and that makes it more fun. Oh he loves his people, that’s obvious. The little one especially who hugs him and plays with him whilst the big ones are at school. But new people are so fun. He loves to meet new people. To sniff them and lick them, and maybe even jump on them if he’s not told off in time. So many new people at the beach; so many new friends with whom to play.
And then there are other dogs. Sometimes the new people bring new dogs and that is his most favourite thing of all, meeting new dogs. To smell them and jump on them and chase each other round in circles. Some dogs are silly and scared, but he’s sure that even with them he can make a new friend. That if he licks them enough, or barks happily in encouragement, that they will come around and want to play too. He adores play, this Rolo Pup. With anything and anyone.
He loves the beach this boy. With its sand and its water and its possibility for new friends. He loves the way his people set up the shade for him, and don’t get angry when he digs himself a nice cool hole to doze in. There’s always a bowl of water nearby, and another with his dog food. And if he’s really clever he can sneak some of the little one’s lunch as well. Sandy sausages might just be his favourite.
It’s a dog’s life, and he loves it best when it’s at the beach.
But they haven’t taken him today.
He watched the car be packed with the towels and the bathers and the buckets and spades. He saw the kids with their hats on, smelling like suncream.
And he waited.
Patiently he waited, wagging his tail, for the big one to get his lead. To call him into the car so he could go too.
But the lead never came, and the call never followed.
And they left without him.
On a quiet Sunday afternoon, I sit inside my cool house, enjoying the silence. There is study to be done, and blog posts to write, and Boatman is taking the kids on an adventure. All is well.
Until a mournful howl cuts through the silence.
He’s been left behind.
Today is not a beach day for him. Nor for me either it seems. I understand his frustration. I feel his pain. I love the beach just as much as he does.
So we sit together outside, just Rolo Pup and I. Me ignoring the blogging and the assignments. He remembering he’s not all alone.
And we dream of the beach together.
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