This morning when Owen got up he peed off that boardwalk thing.
"It okay for me to pee anywhere on Dog Island," he said. "That's what dogs do."
These are possibly two of the reasons that Dog Island is named Dog Island.
Mr. Moon is fixing the drain under the sink.
Last night we had hot dogs and vodka for dinner. Well, corn on the cob and beans and cole slaw were involved too.
This is life on Dog Island.
Dogs and peeing anywhere and bugs and things that need fixing and questionable dietary choices and sting rays and water and sand.
I checked my list of things we needed here from our last stay in May. The list began with canola oil and ended with "bathroom sink". I did bring canola oil.
I should take a walk but I have Dog Island Ass which is a real and serious medical diagnosis. So I am sitting on the porch and watching Vergil and Owen throw things into the bay for Greta to retrieve. Owen is giving Greta instructions in his little boy voice. "Drop it!" "Stay!"
Greta mostly obeys him. Owen feels powerful.
Is it nap time yet? Dogs take a lot of naps, right?
Yes. Yes they do.