Black Dog is kind. She has a red collar, sits for treats and protects Boo from fierce dogs. Funny then that I should name her Black Dog. Not Red Collar or Bouncer. The irony walks with me, that my Black Dog has left me and been replaced with an actual Black Dog.
We meander, me and Boo, along the beach in a looping walk from the deep grey ocean to the beach edge where the bamboo umbrellas have splintered into the sand, to the volley ball net with the rusty poles, to the mountain of flip flops – washed up and piled up.
