1.5 Hours at the Beach.

Today is not the day for education, my friends.

Today is a day for sharing a story. A story from the weekend. A weekend when I decided to take my dog and my roommate’s dog to the delightful sandy shores of the Western coast. Today is not a day for natural interpretation. Today is about nature being a big fat bitch.

(Which is half the reason I love her.)

Here’s how the day went.

1. Drive many hours. Arrive at beach during monsoon.

2. Decide to suck it up. It’s fall. It’s the coast. It’s going to rain. Drive for 30 minutes in said monsoon looking for public beach parking. Fail. Park at state park beach, where dogs are not allowed off-leash, causing immediate minor anxiety attack because I fully intend to let my dog off leash.

3. Zip up coat, put up hood, take dogs out, unhook my dog’s leash. (The Other Creature can’t be trusted.)

4. After approximately 3 minutes, dog is so full of unbridled joy that he charges towards me and the Other Creature. The leash attached to my pants instantly becomes the finish line for a race I did not know was happening. My dog, the only racer and therefore the winner, plows through said leash.

5. Belt loop rips off. Button flies into the abyss. Zipper breaks. Pants fall halfway down. On public beach.

6. Panic. Wrangle dog, who is still in a state of pure euphoria. Fashion crude belt out of one leash in effort to hold pants up.

7. Shove dogs back into the car, concerned about a) getting a citation and 2) people noticing my new belt, flapping fly, and annihilated sense of dignity.

8. Find different beach. Park. Realize, halfway down the dune to this beach, that constant rain has washed away the dune’s sand. Only wet clay is left, and the dune is steep. It’s still raining.

9. Slide. A lot. Fall down. Hard.

10. Think about crying.

11. Descend to beach. Let both wild animals off leash because I’m now feeling sorry for The Creature, who hasn’t gotten to experience glorious beach freedom.

12. Tide immediately starts to come in. Only 10 feet of sand left before we’re trapped. Cry a little.

13. Watch in horror as The Creature bolts. He runs back up the dune, easily, because he has built-in crampons. At the top of the very steep dune is a very small parking lot next to a very busy highway. In the very pouring rain.

14. Scream The Creature’s given name like a madwoman, attempting to run up the dune. Am duly ignored by Creature. Fall down some more, slide around, dig fingers into the clay and briefly go into primeval animal state. Startle an old guy with walking sticks and a rainproof hat. Secretly hate him, ignore his “This woman is a maniac” look, and crawl up the dune like some monster from the Black Lagoon, soaking wet and covered in sand, clay, and beach detritus.

15. The Creature is seated politely next to the car. Throw both beasts into the car, realizing that camera bag (and camera inside) is sandy and WET. So are the beasts. Car is a disaster. Cry some more. Realize that in a few hours, it will all be funny. Stop crying.

16. Return to original beach. Gladly accept possibility of a $100 fine. Pray that the whole pants situation will foster pity in the heart of whatever ranger finds our bedraggled asses.

17. Monsoon picks up in intensity. Dogs and self are soaked. However, dogs are having too much fun to leave (because dogs + nature = tired dogs and therefore tired dogs + a glass of wine = very happy me). Scream at dog over hurricane-force winds to stop drinking salt water and trying to eat dead things on beach. Dog charges through leash between self and The Creature again, but I have nothing left to hook it to and it’s only yanked out of my hand.

18. Monsoon actually gets worse. Sadly decide to put the beasts back into the car. However, car is warm and dry, and all are pleased. Beasts immediately pass out.

19. Find coffee. Eat two protein bars. Blast music. Head for home.

20. Get home after dark. Collapse onto floor, and laugh until I almost pee my ruined pants. Spend the entire next day basking in the glow of two exhausted dogs.

Destroyer of Pants. Why do I hear the Batman theme in my head?

The Creature. Don’t be fooled by the cutesy, innocent look. He’s evil. The Evil Beagle.

Posted on September 28, 2010, in Naturalist Notebook and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 9 Comments.

  1. LOL, your post has made me seriously reconsider my habit of clipping the dog’s extension leash onto my pants. I always imagined the worst being that the belt-loop would rip. I sure didn’t expect the Creature to be a Beagle. At least they had a grand time! :)

    • That’s the great thing about dogs – no matter what you’re doing, they’re having a grand time! Usually, clipping the leash to your belt only ever results in a ripped belt loop; my 70lb “puppy” just seems to really enjoy running through the leash. He did it again on our walk this morning – clearly we need to have a chat about leash etiquette. :) Thanks for reading Cait!

  2. I love it. This is the girl I know!

  3. Superb stuff! A truly great read…brought a smile to the tailend of a glowering, cloud-filled afternoon. You should think about script-writing as well while you’re at you. A roaming naturalist playwright with a very funny slant on situational comedy! I’m going to read it again now…

  4. Beyond brilliant. Congratulations on serving your outing with El Beaglo! You truly are a Beagle Whisperer.

  5. Haha! That will teach me to leave my account open on your computer Leo ;)

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