Sunday Steve and I took Dionne along on the long annual beach hike that we do every winter with friends when the tide is super low. As usual, Dionne walked nicely on the leash. But trouble struck when we reached the jumble of rocks that’s the most serious obstacle along the way. Dionne scrambled up them without hesitation, but when it was time to descend, terror gripped her. Steve (aka The Dogfather) was patient, declining at least one offer from someone to carry her. They took it slowly, and in the end, the combination of his reassurance and my calling to her, treat in hand, got her over the last scary part.
With the scary part behind her, Dionne particularly enjoyed the point where we all stopped to have some wine and hors d’oeuvres. She scarfed up several pieces of errant popcorn.
But most of yesterday, she seemed worn out: