Hot days on the beach. Here comes another mama with little ones trailing along behind. Neon swimsuits and bright plastic buckets. Like a row of ducks, they trudge by. I hit the water bottle again and turn over. After a while my head begins to throb from the heat. I reluctantly sit up and begin to gather my belongings. Stuff them into a basket. One flip-flop is missing, so I search around for it. Notice a nearby dog has it, playfully shaking it back and forth. If it weren’t for the sandspurs along the path, I’d let the dog have it.
As politely as possible, I nudge a heavy-set man close by. “That your dog?” I ask.
“Not mine. Ask that lady over there,” he replies as he shakes his head emphatically.
“I thought he was yours,” the lady says, her annoyance plain on her face.
“What to do now?” I wonder. In desperation, I approach the happy pup and attempt to snatch my flip-flop out of his mouth. At this gesture, he assumes it’s play time and runs off down the beach, expecting me to chase him. Which I do, having no other choice but to hop on one foot back through the sandspurs.
Just as I think I’ve caught up to him, he shakes the flip-flop, growls joyfully, and takes off again. By this time, I am determined to retrieve my rubber shoe, come hell or high tide. Finally, I try another tactic. Sit down in the sand and pretend not to be interested at all. He stops, turns around, and approaches me tentatively. I watch out of the corner of my eye, waiting for a chance to jump and grab. Closer and closer he comes. Suddenly, I jump up and lunge, only to end up with a face full of sand. And off he goes again.
Not to be foiled by a mere dog, I set off in earnest. “Surely this animal will get tired of the game soon,” I reassure myself. But the sun was rapidly sinking into the Gulf. “Are we at the Cut yet?” I ask a seagull. Then, “Do I really want that flip-flop enough to chase him again?” The seagull squawked and flew away. The gleeful canine barks invitingly--challenging me. And we’re off again.
It’s getting dark when I finally decide to try the sit down and act uninterested one more time. So I sit. And sit. Until here he comes with his tail wagging and snorting a little bit to show his superiority. The perfect moment comes. I take a deep breath and pounce! Only to end up in the surf with a nose full of seafoam!
“It’s time.” I think, “Time to give it up. Maybe I can stumble back out to the paved road and hitch a ride.” So I look for an appropriate place to get over to the road. A sandy area between two houses catches my attention. As I make my way, inch by inch, through the hot sand and sharp sandspurs, I spot the infernal hound. He’s on a porch to my right. Then I look closer at the objects he’s happily nosing around in. As he cocks one ear and gloats at me in his victory, I realize he’s surrounded by a pile of multi-colored,and well-chewed flip flops!
