A Morning Adventure

A Morning Adventure

The beach ball bounced along the deserted shoreline. I saw it as we got down the walkway to the beach. Unfortunately, so did Duke, my big old black lab. Duke has always had a ‘thing’ for balls.



“Easy boy,” I cajoled. “It’s just a big unattended ball. It’s not our business. Just stay calm.” I held his leather leash tighter just in case. We were at the start of our early morning walk.



I could feel his body tense and I knew any moment he’d try to tear off dragging me like a rag doll behind him. I racked my brain to find a meaningful way to distract him. I pulled the treat bag out of my pocket and rattled it. His ears perked up briefly but his eyes never left that silly beach ball slowing being moved down the shore by the breeze. Treats were not going to distract him this morning.



“Okay, Okay, I get it. You want to chase down that big ball. Probably it belongs to some kid who will come bounding out of a cottage on the shore to get it. But, we’ll give it a try. I get to decide how fast we go however,” I promised Duke.



That was easier said than done, of course. I began walking toward the water’s edge digging my bare toes into the soft sand to keep my footing. And Duke was off. “Hey, you big brute, slow down. I’ve only got two feet and it’s tough to maneuver in the sand.” Meanwhile, Duke’s legs were churning and he was kicking up clouds of sand as he pulled against me.



Luckily I am a ‘substantial’ woman so, by weight alone, I could slow him down. My right arm began to ache from the stress of his pulling so I grabbed the leash with both hands and tried to keep a steady pace toward the errant ball. Duke never hesitated; he pulled ahead with unusual tenacity obviously impatient to get to his ‘catch’ as quickly as possible.



We were getting closer. I could hear Duke panting fiercely and I was not far from it myself having to pay attention to my footing, the stress on my arms, and periodically giving a visual check to the location of the beach ball.



We must have been an interesting visual picture. A substantial woman being towed across the sand by a pulling, determined black dog. I almost laughed aloud at the image.



We were almost there. A sudden gust of wind picked up the lightweight inflatable plastic ball and sent it skittering further down the shoreline. “Drat. We almost had it, Duke. Now we have to keep chasing it. Of course,” I added quietly, “I don’t know what we’ll do if we catch up to it. It’s much too big for you to carry around or even hold in your mouth.” Then my concentration needed to be doubled because of the shells, rocks, driftwood, and debris on the firmer sand near the water’s edge. I didn’t want to step on anything harmful or cruddy. Meanwhile, Duke tried to move ahead.



Duke pulled, I struggled to keep control of the dog and myself, and the wind periodically pushed the ball further down the water’s edge. It seemed like an unwinnable race much like the poor dogs on racetracks who chase uncatchable rabbits moved mechanically ahead of them. Still we kept moving.



I tried to think of something other than the race we were doing. “It’s about time for people to come meandering onto the beach. It’s a nice, cool morning with blue sky and only periodic gusts of wind. A good day for being on the beach. And it’s not that early.” As I completed that series of thoughts, a larger gust of wind passed. The beach ball catapulted down the beach and Duke renewed his efforts to pull me faster. “Ugh, this is not fun. Duke, you have to slow down, boy.” I stopped, dug both feet into the wet sand and pulled back on the leash. The leash was attached to his classy vest by two d-hooks so when I stopped, reluctantly so did he. However, he never gave me as much as a backward glance. As soon as he unwillingly was jolted to a stop, he renewed his efforts to move forward. “You’re relentless; I’ll give you that, Duke.” And we were off once more.



This time we got close, very close. Then the wind shifted and pushed the beach ball into the water. There’s one thing Duke likes more than balls. That’s water. “I know, Duke, you want to go in after it. I however, am not that excited about getting wet right now. How do we solve this?” After a moment’s thought, I decided. “We’ll let you off lead so you can go in and chase the silly ball. It seems to be drifting parallel to shore so it should provide you with good exercise. Almost as good as chasing sticks like we often do.”



With effort I hauled the leash back toward me until I could reach the d-hooks and remove Duke’s leash. As soon as he heard the familiar click of freedom, he bounded off and dashed with no hesitation into the water.



“He’s so beautiful when he swims,” I told myself as I watched him paddle toward the ball. He got closer by the minute and eventually was nose to ball with the thing. “What’ll he do now?,” I mused.



Duke did not hesitate, he bopped the ball toward shore with his nose and then swam after it. He repeated this process until the ball drifted on the edge of the water. Then he pushed it again and it popped onto the beach. At this point Duke looked at me as though to ask for praise for ‘saving’ the ball. I couldn’t help myself, “Good boy, Duke. You did it. You got the ball back on the sand.” Inadvertently I clapped my hands. Duke’s ears rose and his tail wagged feverishly. He knew I was as proud of him as he was.



Now the question became what to do next? We were both stymied at least for a minute. I walked toward the ball and, amazingly, Duke let me pick it up. “Good job, Duke. Now maybe we can find the owner of this ball and give it back. You didn’t let it blow away or get lost.” My dog came up beside me with his tail still wagging. I reached down and patted his head. “Good boy,” I repeated. I pulled out the treat bag and gave him a couple of small ones which he promptly swallowed with nary a chew!



“Piggy!” I exclaimed. “You’re supposed to chew those things, goofy boy.” I snapped his leash back onto his vest.



For the first time I checked out my surroundings and discovered we had moved a distance along the beach and were in the area where clusters of cottages clung to the sandy dunes above the high water level from the tide.



“There are lots of little homes here, Duke. Perhaps a child from one of these places owns this ball.” I looked up at the cottages. “They all look alike and seem even smaller than I thought. Probably they are all rented units mostly popular in the warm summer months. They’re not like my parents’ cabin in the woods. It’s been in our family for a very long time.”



We kept walking. Duke was no longer pulling but continued his constant search for ‘pee mail’ and other smells that delighted his twitching nose. People were finally stirring and children occasionally erupted from a cottage and made bee-lines for the shore. Adults were fast on their heels.



None of them paid much attention to either of us or to the beach ball I held under my free arm. “Maybe we won’t find the owner of this ball.” Duke looked up at me with his large, gentle brown eyes. He wagged his tail.



A young man walked down the beach toward us. He began walking faster for no apparent reason. As he approached us, he looked at the beach ball and then at me and finally at Duke.



“That your ball, lady?” he asked somewhat politely.



“No, it’s not. My dog, Duke, insisted on chasing it down the shore and into the water until he could retrieve it. He loves balls.”



“It’s probably ours then. We were playing beach volleyball last night. It was pretty windy and, at one point, the wind took the ball out into the water and none of us really wanted to get wet so we left it figuring we could always buy a new one.” He looked up at me quizzically.



“You’re probably right,” I said and held the ball out to him. “Glad we could be of help.”



“Thank you,” he spoke in a quiet almost embarrassed tone.



“You’re welcome. Duke here had a good run and I got exercise trying to hold him back and keep my footing at the same time. Not easy,” I concluded.



“Yah, I know. We have a Golden Retriever and walking him is like trying to walk a wild bear.” He put the beach ball under one arm and reached down to pet Duke. “Good boy, Duke. Now we can get back to our game sooner than we thought.” He looked up at me and actually smiled. “I LOVE beach volleyball. Guess I’ll go hunt up some of the kids to play now. Thanks again, Lady. Have a nice day.” He tossed the ball into the air as he began back the way he came probably to round up his buddies.



“We can go home now, Duke. Our job is done. The outcome is good. The ball has found its home and its owner seems happy though I must say I’m surprised it was not a young child who claimed the ball.”



“Let’s go back to the water’s edge and I’ll throw some sticks for you to fetch. I know how much you love that game.” We headed down to the beach and I began looking for appropriate driftwood pieces to throw for Duke. Our morning adventure continued.