Friday, July 6

Croyde Beach

We visited Croyde Beach on a misty day in April. Brandy had never seen the sea up close and we wanted to see if she had those spaniel sea-legs people kept talking about.


When we arrived, the tide was out and there were miles of wet sandy terrain to cross.



Sam was well prepared in wellies and a raincoat. Me? Erm, lets just say not so much.

We walked poochie along the shore and to start she was in her element. At the time, she was in a real digging phase and was happy frolicking in the sand until she couldn't frolic no mo'.

Before long, we got to the surf and realised our fatal error.

She doesn't like getting her fur wet.

At home, when we were out in the rain, she would always manoeuvre around puddles. Post-walkies rinses left her grumbling. Sometimes when she dipped her ears in her water bowl she would mope until you dried them off. And we'd driven six hours to the seaside. 

Not wise. At least there was still scenery for her to ogle. We realised at this point that rain and sea in the same day was probably more than she bargained for. Also, I was wearing soaking wet dungarees which were so heavy that I would have sank like I rock if somehow I fell into the riptide. We went home.


If nothing else, there was bed.


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