Culture shock. That’s what I have. I spend months in the Bahamas off leash, running around, digging holes in the sand, and swimming off the beach.
We get to Florida, and I have to wear a leash. I think that’s a bit humiliating. I don’t run away – okay sometimes I might get distracted and chase a squirrel, but I stay in sight.
This is me looking tough. I’m trying to tell Kristina with eye contact alone that I don’t need a leash.
Does she listen?
On goes the leash. I just don’t understand this leash law deal. I’m a good dog.
I’m a dog who knows how to get what I want, and what I want today is to go to he beach and watch my human friends kite.
As you know, I don’t use words, but I can use body language to get what I want.
I jump off Mattina and onto the kite gear. My thought, they can’t kite it I’m sitting on the gear, so they have to take me with them.
Don’t I look evil? There is no way they can refuse. And they don’t.
Off to the beach I go. I love humans.
I’m a happy dog. I found my friend Jasper. I never know when I’ll get to see him, but I’m sure happy when I find him.
We were sailing in the Exumas and ended up at Compass Cay. I went for a walk and there he was.
The first thing I did – – – stole his stick.
Jasper plays the tough guy, but all I have to do is growl a little, and he drops it.
He barks at me. He barks at the humans as if he expects them to help.
I play with the stick until I get bored and then I let Jasper have it for a while.
His tail wags at very high speeds, he’s never grumpy that I stole his stick, and he keeps playing with me.
What a great friend.