We followed the Siuslaw River to Florence.
Since our hotel room wasn’t ready, I wanted to give the dogs an opportunity to swim and get wet. Water.
I didn’t even care that there was more muck and mud than water; that’s what the North Jetty was offering. My sandals acted like suction cups as my feet slurped and sucked to the water. Sometimes I came right out of my shoe and had to go back. Meanwhile, the dogs splashed about.
It didn’t take very long before Lucy had to rest. I can’t help think that I thought her life was over just a few weeks ago. Who knows, maybe this trip wasn’t her Swan Song.
Sylvia watched while I threw the stick. Over and over and over.
After a while, the dogs stopped bringing back the stick and the next activity began: Digging. Maybe Ricky had gone clamming in a previous life. I know he was at least an excavator.