I leap out of the car as soon as Mom parks it near Rissers Beach. My tail wags furiously with excitement as we get out. The fresh sea air and the sound of waves crashing onto the shore fill me with pure joy.
It’s early in the season, so there aren’t any tourists yet. The beach is wonderfully empty, and I’m glad. It means that I can have the beach all to myself. No pesky kids to steal my ball or crowds of people to make it hard for me to run around.
In the distance, I see a few people wading in the water. They look crazy to me. The water is much too cold for swimming at this time of year. I can tell by their shivering bodies and the blue hue on their lips.
But I don’t pay them much attention. I have a ball to chase and fetch. Mom throws it with a flick of her wrist, and I take off, running as fast as I can. The sand feels cool and soft under my paws, and I love the way it flies up behind me as I run.
I retrieve the ball and bring it back to Mom, who throws it again. This time it goes further, and I have to sprint to catch up to it. I catch it mid-air, my jaws closing around the soft rubbery texture of the ball.
As I turn to bring the ball back, I forget about the strangers in the water and focus on my game. Mom throws it again, and I run after it, forgetting all about the crazy people. All that matters is the sand, the waves, and the thrill of the chase.
As I run, I think about how much I love this beach. In the summer, it will be filled with beach umbrellas and people frolicking in the warm sand and waters. But for now, it’s wonderfully empty, and I have it all to myself.
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