LATE SUMMER

My son had talked us into going to the beach. It had been two years since we had walked along the shores of the great Atlantic Ocean, even though we live only 25 miles inland. My first instinct, the first words from my in pain muscles, was “No.” A most emphatic “No.” at that. But for some reason my mouth said, “Yes”.

And so, on Saturday morning, on a rare day in February with the temps hovering around 75 today we went. Sullivan’s Island is not a swimming beach. It’s where the great historic Ft. Moultrie lies and winks out to Frt. Sumter out in the bay, it is breathtakingly beautiful but it has deadly riptides and currents. Ask the 1000 British soldiers who drowned there during their ill-fated crossing in the 1780’s. But it is miles upon miles, of wide sand beaches, with palmetto trees swaying in the blustery breezes, and seagulls riding high like Kites in the air. But what really gets you is the peaceful, steady roar of the ocean. Constant and as steadfast as all of time, it rumbles through you and all about you. It is the most peaceful and soothing sound I can think of.

Max has been to the beach many times in his growing up period. Back when he was “the only” dog, when we lived on the old Air Force base, it was almost like a bi-monthly pilgrimage to the beach of either Sullivan’s Island or Isle of Palms to walk along and look at the waves, and enjoy ourselves. Max’s very first trip had been at the age of 6 months, so he was a seasoned veteran of the joys and wonder and FUN of the beach. It was the little Terrier’s first time. At nearly two years old he had never experienced the wide-open expanse of the beach nor had the joys of chasing ghost crabs or running at seagulls, or hauling in driftwood. Max would make a good mentor, and I knew a part of him needed a “vacation” to the beach as well.

It was one of those days that will forever be a part of my collective memory of all things in my life and regarding Max. One of those so perfect days with the undercurrent of bittersweet memories, that you cannot help but wished it was frozen in time, forever.

Max sniffed the air, and knew, where he was headed. The nub wagged and he looked at me and I could almost hear the “Thank you”. The five of us; Me, the boy, the mother in law and the two dogs walked over 4 miles total of beachfront. How my heart sang to see my beloved partner once again woofling around in the waves, and chasing the long legged pipstrels, and run towards a flock of seagulls feeling a sense of pride when the rose up like a white cloud and hovered around. But I noticed today, his step was less lively, he tired a wee bit earlier. He was content most of the time to not stray out more than 3-4 feet from me in any direction. The graying muzzle didn’t drag up massive quantities of driftwood today.

The little terrier had a ball, he ran in circles ‘orbiting’ us all like some deranged moon.
Max met a Basenji who did therapy work, he played with two little Italian greyhounds, he romped briefly with a few mixes, and allowed himself to be herded around for awhile by a dominant BC mix. Mostly he loved meeting all the people. This is what Max lives for, human contact, and he is willing to make friends anytime, anywhere, anyplace.

Not one person “cringed” when they saw Max, not one person, “picked up their dog and ran”, not one person gathered their child up in their arms, not one person pointed at the “vicious rockwiller”. In fact it was the opposite. For a moment, there, for a true moment, I had a sense of Déjà vu and thought…”You know. THIS, right here is what Rainbow Bridge must be like…” so many friendly people who love their dogs, and so many dogs getting along with each other, and this beautiful ocean, so pristine, so wonderfully primal, the one thing that connects all of life and nature on this planet. Max looked over at me, and I wanted to just freeze the moment forever, the look in his eyes. I could clearly see that my companion of nearly 6 years was now entering the late summer of his life, and part of me wept for that. But part of me wept in joy to see such open and honest love between so many living creatures, both two legged and four legged. The terrier hung around his older mentor, and he lived up to his introverted, ‘cowardly’ self. He didn’t want to make friends with anyone, but clearly he was enjoying himself to the tips of his upright ears. When he wasn’t circling us, he was trotting next to Max, together they looked like the ‘small dog/Big Dog’ team from the Kibbles’ n’ Bits commercial. Among them as among us there was an understanding as well, of how special this day was. Almost as if the older dog was indeed tutoring the young terrier pup in the ways of sizing up seagulls, and how NOT to stick your nose into the angry claw of a waiting blue crab. Monty in true form savored the treat of seagull droppings.

All to soon, I knew it was time to go. My body could not physically go where my heart and soul wanted to, and already I felt the boring, pains down deep, that was letting me know I’d be paying for my trip to the beach for the next 3 days. But it was worth it. Every second. Every minute.
Max looked back at me again too, once before it was time to clip on the leashes and walk past the now long silent cannons on near Ft. Moultrie.

The sun highlighted the grey in all of his muzzle, and his eyes looked a bit more clouded than I remember them. But they held love, that was unmistakable, and they held contentment, and a sense of happiness that only dogs can truly feel. For that few hours I had felt it too, the same, utter happiness in the moment, in the now. A happiness that transcended prejudices, and age, and money or status. Just a happiness and contentment that I know will forever be locked in the amber of my heart.

One of the memories that when that dreaded time comes that my partner must leave my side, will be a memory that I will recall again and again, weepy eyed, like some silly lovelorn fuddy-duddy at a romance movie. But it was worth it. Worth every moment.

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This article is used with permission. © 2003 J.D. Ellis rottweilerdriver@aol.com