We took Tinto on a trip to Del Mar’s dog beach. It was the evening of the new moon, the tide was about as low as it ever gets, and the sky was brilliantly clear.
Although we live just a few miles from the beach, we don’t often take the time to visit, and even more rarely do we go with Tinto. He’s not a real dog park kind of a dog, feeling, as he does, that he is superior to the mere canines that gambol about in them chasing balls and the like. He’s more likely to be the “manners police”: if a dog is acting badly, Tinto will bark madly at him. I know … makes me kind of shake my head too, especially when he gives me the blank, “I have no parents” look when I call him to come. Which is the reason that I don’t let him off leash at the beach. I just don’t trust him to not put his exquisitly sensitive nose to the ground and track something fabulous out onto the road, regardless of how many cool smells there are on the beach itself.
But Axel’s brother was visiting, and we enjoy being tourists in our own town, so off we went to some of our favorite coastal haunts. We had a great time watching big dogs play frisbee, watching little dogs dash madly, and watcing their people, too. We ran up and down the beach, and took lots of pictures. Tinto, who thinks that any water source is an adventure in drinking, sampled the ocean … with the reaction that you would expect. The end result of our visit was a flat, happy and very sandy terrier.