When Hump Day becomes Hug Day, and the hugs are ginormous
Towards the end of a superbly lovely early spring day on the Central Oregon Coast, I decided to make one last stop at my favorite doggie stop, the aptly named "Ocean Beach." Terribly un-0riginal but who cares, right?
As soon as I shut the car door I heard barking. That low, almost familiar sound is attached to a certain kind of dog, but I couldn't quite tell. Off in the distance I could make out one person on the sun-splattered sand. The tides were all the way out, revealing sand bars I didn't know existed.
I made my way down the sidewalk to a set of stairs and ran smack into a Doggie Mama with six of one of my favorite breeds: Bassett Hounds.
They are stubborn, strong, headstrong tugboats, but they are also wonderful animals. I promptly sat on the stairs, and with permission from Doggie Mama, said hello. Some swarmed, some warmed up slowly, and one, Bailey, the 18-year-old matriarch, wobbled slowly forward, concentrating hard one step at a time to make it back to the van.
We got the group on the grass where I could get in a serious Bassett cuddle.
Then I walked next to ancient Ms. Bailey on her way back to the van, where Doggie Mama and her mama, who was the designated doggie driver (the humans are clearly incidental), waited for the Bassetts to arrange themselves.
I had to get a photo of this:
All I could think was how badly I wanted to crawl in there and cuddle up with the whole lot of them. Hell with the world. I'm going to doggie heaven.
Oh how I want a dog. Getting there. Probably not a Bassett, for they aren't built to hike and run the way I hope to. Still, you gotta love those ears and those eyes.
Made my day.
Hope this made yours.
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