. . .one of my favorite stories . . . The Big Red Beach Dog

4/19/94  The mythical adventure with the big red beach dog the other day still has me shaking my head in incredulity . . .

I've been going through old papers and things I've written to collect material for my collage/book project. I came across a story that I wrote and illustrated about 4 years ago which I title "My Walk on the Beach." I enjoyed rereading it and decided Shirley would enjoy it, especially since the walk traversed her beach. So, I put it aside to take with me to Shirley's in the morning. Part of the story told of my encounter with two big red beach dogs and how I admired the master of the shorthaired one for his incredible skills at fetching.

The next morning when I arrived at Shirley's with my story in hand, I was greeted at her door by the two big red beach dogs. The big one, the one I praised in my story, came unglued when he saw me. It was if he was saying, "It was me you wrote about! Remember? Wanna go play again?" I could barely get past his arduous enthusiasm. "I'd love to, but I have to work right now" I replied.

"Oh please! Don't you remember how much fun we had?!" he insisted.

"Of course I do! But I really can't right now. And I can't let you in--you're too big and you might hurt Ross." (Shirley's dog who was recuperating from surgery.)

I got through the door and began my duties-the dog stayed on the porch. The smaller one came and went, but the big one stayed, whining and scratching at the door and windows for hours. Previous to this event these dogs occasionally sauntered through the property in their roamings, but never even slowed down before. When I came out to dump the trash, he skipped along beside me and begged some more and I refused again. Finally, he saw Ross use his dog door to get in and he followed and squeezed through. Since Ross was in such a fragile condition and I couldn't take the chance of this huge creature inadvertently bowling him over, I yelled at the big dog with an emphatic command to go home. He obeyed and dejectedly but obediently descended the stairs toward the beach.

. . . now how can that be explained in 'normal' terms . . . on the day that I show up with that story in hand that I haven't seen nor thought of for years . . . ! I was thrilled to experience this mythological interplay! My rereading of that story triggered the happy emotions I felt while playing with the wonderful big red beach dogs. That joy reached out and touched the dogs and we were drawn to each other by the power of our desires to reunite.

* I can't help but wonder if the great big one (I found out his name is Fruppy) is an evolutionary early bloomer in the canine world--introducing a larger form in order to have greater capacity for electricity.