This year, we took our dog to the beach, where she avoided the waves and the seagulls avoided her; however, she did roll in fish guts when I wasn’t paying attention.
After a thorough cleaning back at the house, she lay belly down, legs splayed on the tile floor. I’d call it “spread eagle,” but, one, she has a running dispute with birds (she runs after them), and, two, this position is called splooting — a fabulous word that should be used at every opportunity. Likely derived from “splat,” sploot has those double o’s that sound like an exhale of relief from the hot sun.
The dog wasn’t the only one weary from sun, sand, and surf. After lunch, I took my sons, ages 12 and 9, for ice cream. They inhaled their waffle cones, then insisted they were still hungry — starving, in fact, since lunch had been for-e-ver ago (about an hour and a half). I was once a growing boy, and the salt air does something extra for the appetite.
There happened to be a hot dog stand across the road from the ice cream shop. Feeling generous, I told them they could each get a combo, which included chips and a drink, plus whatever toppings they wanted on their dogs. They both selected chili and cheese, the younger mimicking his big bro’s order.
The food came out in a flash and with a smile. We sat in rocking chairs while they ate, groaning with pleasure like a dog in fish guts. I offered to throw away their trash, thinking they were finished. The elder scooped the last bite of his hot dog into a dollop of chili clinging to the wrapper, ate it, and then licked his fingers clean.
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the author of the book with Wipf and Stock Publishers titled This Is the Day: A Year of Observing Unofficial Holidays about Ampersands, Bobbleheads, Buttons, Cousins, Hairball Awareness, Humbugs, Serendipity, Star Wars, Teenagers, Tenderness, Walking to School, Yo-Yos, and More. He lives in Chapel Hill, North Carolina where he is a student of joy.
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