I know my mom loves me—like, not just "feeds me and picks up my poop" love, but real love—because she woke me up early on Memorial Day and took me to the beach. Yes, the beach. That big sandbox with built-in bathwater.
Now, my mom is not what you’d call a beach person. She doesn’t like sand (too gritty), salt (not margarita-related), or heat (melts like a marshmallow). So, when she willingly sacrificed her comfort to watch me sprint in circles and roll in questionable things? That’s love, people.
At the beach, I played with little humans, old humans, and even some grumpy big dogs. One of them got all up in my grill and growled at me. I was about to throw paws—okay, maybe not throw paws, but at least wave them around threateningly—when Mom swooped in and hit us both with her “NO” voice. You know the one. We both backed off. Problem solved.
If anyone—or any dog—ever hurt me, my mom would totally kick their butt. Later, we had an epic hose fight and chilled out by the pool. Mom keeps trying to get me to go in the water, but I’m not so sure yet. I mean, I am an amazing swimmer… I just haven’t figured out how to get out of the pool once I’m in. Anyway, break’s over. I’ve got naps to take and mailmen to monitor. Come visit me sometime—I accept treats, compliments, and belly rubs.
That’s all for now.
Cam 🐶💦☀️
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