A dream. The deck is filling up, small cup by small cup, with snow. A man talks, something about hockey.
I hear a huge boom in the background. A room shaking boom. And then Chloe's face is in mine. Her warm breath on my face, her feet on my chest, on my face. She settles into my pillow as close to me as physically possible without laying on me. The thunder then stops except for distant rumbles. I feel her heart beating fast against my body. It is 5:30 AM.
She had a full day yesterday. Driving out to the end of the North Fork, we found our blackberries quickly at one of the many farm-stands. Chloe and Sydney sat eagerly waiting in the back seat of our car, both standing up looking out the front window waiting for my husband to return to the car. Once we start moving again, Sydney curls up in the corner of the back seat. Chloe stands, her warm breath coming out in gusts, her face between our front seats, staring out the front window. What is going through her mind, I wonder. She remains standing for most of the trip, not nervous but excited.
We arrive in Greenport, a small town at the end of the island. We drive through the town and notice that it looks a bit more polished up. We do not stop. We are on a mission. Chloe continues to be our sentry eagerly looking out the window.
We turn down a road. Could this be it? We drive to the end. A dead end. Circling back to the main road, we drive a little further. We try another road, one with a beachy sounding name. We drive down, turn, and we have found it. A beach without lifeguards. Without "no dog" signs. With few people to object. We leash up the dogs, throw our camera gear in the trunk, and head onto the sand, of course not before some other beach-goers and visitors from Italy ask us questions about the dogs. "How old are they? Are they mother and daughter?" We hear these questions over and over. And they comment about Chloe being old, sadly, and Sydney being young.
Sydney steps on the sand for the first time in her short life. She pulls me down the shore, finding some tasty morsel on the beach, a cluster of snails and seaweed. We arrive at the water. Chloe walks in so the water is halfway up her body. Sydney is curious and wades in cautiously. A small wave laps at her side. She jumps and turns her face trying to see what touched her. Chloe goes into the water eagerly. Sydney, not as much. We walk down the shoreline, the sun hot on our faces, Sydney's nose sniffing the sand. My husband skips some rocks into the water. Chloe chases them until she is halfway covered with water. A man walks over to us. "How old are they? Are they related", he asks. And as usually happens, he tells us about his dogs. We let Chloe off the leash. She walks ahead of us frequently looking back. And then we return to the car with wet sandy dogs. We dry them off as much as we can and help them into the back seat, Chloe entering the car eagerly, Sydney needing a bit of a boost. We begin our drive back home. Chloe, stretched out on the backseat and Sydney is curled up in the corner dreaming their sweet dream of the beach.
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