Surfer Girl

Dang dawg, so much has happened! It was a rough week without my BARF (Best Amigo Ratcatcher Forever). I'm not talking about my big sis pictured here at Summerland Beach. I'm referring to my human ratcatcher amigo.

Dad.

Sure, we did get to go to the beach with Mom. But there were these gargantuan creatures there. I barked at them as they went by. I gave them my meanest woof. I heard a human yell to Mom, "My dog is bigger than your dog!" as they zipped by. I heard my mom yell after her, "And so is its duty!"

What a lovely pile of manure left by this mighty creature! I believe the creature is called a "damn horse." I made a beeline. It wasn't easy in the sand, but I leapt, twisted in the air, and landed square on my back in the sweet-smelling dung. Still on my back, I wriggled with delight.

Then I heard my mother's screams.

To this day, I can't understand why humans don't enjoy the sheer pleasure of rolling in crap. Or eating a few turds for that matter. Rolled in kitty litter? Almond Roca! Perhaps it's an acquired taste. At any rate, I suddenly found myself under cool, running water. I grunted to let my mother know how refreshing that felt on such a miserably hot day.

Meanwhile, my sister Garbo was running up and down the beach laughing hysterically as if Westminster Kennel Club was on the phone. Finally, I found a cool spot underneath some rocks. I chilled there by myself for awhile. I really missed my BARF.

Then this morning, a surprise. My mom let me and Garbo go with her when she left the house early. I'm not crazy about riding in cars, but I'd rather withstand a little nausea if that means I can be with Mom. As I rode in the car, and Garbo barked annoyingly at each motorcycle, I wondered, "Where is Mom taking us?"

It seemed like ages and finally we stopped. The door swung open. It was my BARF! My BARF! My BARF was home! My tail, although critics contend is stumpy, could not stop wagging.