Back to the Beach

I am wondering where we're going.

For the last six months all the trips in the car have ended up at the vet's!

Not the park, not the beach, not friends' places - THE VET'S!

There, I had pins stuck in me, a Number One (short hair cut) on both back legs and dreadful things done to them!

And I'm SICK OF IT!

Yyyyyyyyyyyyesssss!

The BEACH ! At last!!!
I can dig holes without getting into trouble!


I can bark at absolutely NOTHING!
And best of all... I can get completely and utterly WET!

So many bums to sniff and so little time!

If she calls me I'm not coming! Throw that stick and I'll show you what a marvellous swimmer I am!

Mum couldn't take her eyes off me (understandably) and oops!

Didn't see that wave coming in .. two 'booties'.

Shoes, socks and jeans all wet and squelchy!

Very funny.

So that's it, eh?

It's all over, Rover.

Why can't we stay all day?

Why can't we live here?

I will make it quite plain that I am extremely unhappy, in a deep deep depression and only a really lovely treat will cheer me up.

I'm tired and depressed - LIFT ME into the car please.