I didn't think it was possible to leave the beach in a bad move but today I did. We'd had only just stepped onto the sand when Rumple found a great big dog poo and started eating it. I pulled him off at which time Winkle started rolling in it. Then it started raining. I took my bat and ball (AKA the dogs) and went home. It is 33 metres from the house I am staying in and the steps to the beach. I know this because a sign says so. The rain had stopped by the time I'd walked those 33 metres. I took a deep breath, washed off poo and returned to the beach. I couldn't let a few rain drops and a giant turd prevent my dogs from having an afternoon frolic on the beach. The dogs may not always make good dietary choices but they have awesome judgment in other matters. Without their guidance I would not have been there to watch a couple of birds of prey soaring above. The dogs also led me to the dunes this morning to see the Watson Street Dunecare Group on its monthly restoration mission. It looked like back-breaking, bum crack exposing work. As someone whose holiday house of choice is on Watson Street I applaud their efforts. The dogs threatened to lend a paw probably suspecting there was a dog poo or something dead they could dispose of. I led them away. Rumple found a dead fish and rolled in it. Now what was I saying about their judgment?
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