It’s been scorchin’ around here lately; temperatures have approached 95°F the past few days (gasp). And on these sticky-icky days, nobody fares worse than our furry four-legged friends.
I strolled out to the car yesterday morning when Keeper, who was kickin’ it in the driveway, looked up at me in despair… He cocked his head to the side, popped his tongue out of his mouth slightly to the side, and rolled his eyes at me as if to say, “this really blows, dude.” He mustered up some energy, between heavy breaths, and asked me, “Hank, can you please arrange a play-date for me and some other dogs at the beach? I’m desperate.”
So! I phoned The Chasman, and we agreed to take the pooches on-down to Graves Beach, where they frolicked, and swam, and explored, and marked territory, etc… And it was such a blast, in fact, that Colin, Cordelia and I rounded up a team of dogs again today and headed over to Lobster Cove for some more dog party-action. Looks as if this is going to become a regular activity around here…
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