“Wanna go to the Beach?” His head lifts from a nap.  The words interrupt whatever dream it is that dogs have.  He tilts his head unsure if he heard right.  I say it again…”Wanna go to the beach?”  Mister Molson comes fully alive and almost knocks over the chair he was sleeping behind as he runs for the door.

 6-25--7-2 049.jpgMolson has always loved the beach since his first trip in 2005.  He never even seems to mind the long car ride.  He lays down for a long nap in the truck and gets up every time he feels the truck slow down at an off ramp.  Once we get close enough to smell the sea air, he pants at his window letting me know to roll it down.  He hangs his head out the window and takes in the scene of the Currituck Sound as we cross the Wright Memorial Bridge.  He knows we’re getting close.

This trip feels a little different.  I hope it’s not his last.  I worry about what he’s feeling and what life will be like without him.  Molson is only thinking of the ocean.  The full effects of the disease growing in Molson’s nose has not broken his spirit.  He seems like a puppy again as I release him on the beach and he high tails for the breaking waves.  Before I can kick off my flip flops, he’s chest deep in the water waiting for me to throw the tennis ball.

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