Sunday.
Beach Buoy, Borrowed Dog and Another Dog headed to the beach.
Borrowed Dog had been on a sleepover.
It was a misty morning.
6-15 a.m.
A couple walked to the edge of the sea and back with their Greyhounds.
One White.
One Black.
The view north.
The tide was neither in or out.
They headed south.
There was a strange glow on the horizon.
Just a hidden Sun trying to break through.
Beach Buoy collected six suitable stones.
They walked the low level route under a canopy of Gulls, hanging in the breeze.
Team One Black Ear were to the north.
Milo, the Young Black Labrador was still in borrowed status.
"Morning Mate."
It was 6-47.
Beach Buoy added the stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He just stood with the two dogs.
Squeezing every moment of peace from the morning.
Some of the painted stack stones that have been left alone.
There will always be some half-brain wanting to throw them onto the beach below.
It's happened in the past.
It'll happen again.
Another Dog.
Ruby.
Rubes.
Borrowed Dog.
Walter.
Walt.
"See you mate."
They returned to the beach below via the low level route.
Team One Black Ear were having a sit and think on a large piece of driftwood.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Beach Buoy and the dogs headed back to the village with Team One Black Ear.
The Beachcombing Border Collie Couple headed south.
Hugo, the dog with one black ear went over to play with the Border Collie.
The two dogs looked like each others negative.
They paused to chat to the man with a Spaniel who once had a Beagle.
He'd been to Dublin for St.Patrick's
Day.
They went their separate ways.
Team Muzzled Dog passed at distance.
Applicable waves were shared.
They approached the southernmost access ramp.
They stopped to chat to the litter pick lady and her Little White Scottie Dog.
BEACH BUOY.
