She charged, sand kicking, legs blurring. She clamped the ball in her teeth, raced back to him and
dropped it at his feet. He winged it again, and again. Lost count of the number of times. When he timed it right, she was fast and accurate enough to leap, snatch the ball out of the air.
And each time she did, trotted back to drop it at his feet, they just grinned at each other.
She didn’t chase the birds, thankfully, though she did give them longing looks.
He argued with himself, but curiosity and the little boy inside him won. He hurled the ball over the
water to see how she’d react.
She gave a bark of sheer, unmistakable delight and roared into the sea.
She swam like—well, a retriever, he decided, laughing all the way down in his gut until he had to
brace his hands on his thighs. She swam back to shore, red ball in her teeth, wild happiness beaming from her big brown eyes.
She dropped the ball at his feet again, shook herself. Soaked him.
“What the hell?” He threw it out over the water again.
He stayed out longer than he’d planned, and his pitching arm felt like overcooked spaghetti. But man and dog were relaxed and pleased with themselves when they walked back into Bluff House.
Whiskey Beach
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By State Library of New South Wales collection [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons
to Mental Health, Science Says
It’s common knowledge that having a dog, or any pet for that matter, promotes happiness. Dogs are the ultimate life partner: loyal, lovable, and absurdly cuddly. But now “science supports a truth the heart has always known,”
...
However, it turns out that the most effective cure for depression at all ages could be having a dog.
He picked up the dog biscuit. The minute she spotted it, Barbie dropped her butt to the floor while the look in her eyes went slightly crazed. Like a crack addict, he thought, about to take the pipe.
“Damn it, Barbie. You’re a good dog.”
He went out on the deck and ate lunch in the sun with the dog sprawled contentedly by his chair.
His life, he decided, if you didn’t count murder, break-ins and clouds of suspicion, was pretty damn good right at the moment.
When he went back upstairs, he heard Abra singing. He poked his head into his bedroom first and,
since the dog walked right in to explore, went over to see what towel art she’d left on the bed.
Unmistakably a dog, he thought. Especially since she’d fashioned a heart out of a Post-it. On it, she’d written:
BARBIE LOVES ELI
Whiskey Beach
