Saturday was our little getaway to the beach. We were headed for Long Beach, Washington, cooler packed, Starbucks in hand, puppy in the middle. (He likes to be right up front for all the action.)
Until he decides to hang out on my shoulder. And, yes, he really does just sit there like that.
Well, that gloriously lasted until we got almost an hour into the drive and hit the curvy part of the road. I was sending a text and felt a little wooze hit my head and knew I'd better quit trying to read the tiny print on my phone. I used to be able to read for 8-9 hours in the car, no problem. Not anymore. I get so car sick. And if it's going to be a long ride, you'd better let me sit up front. Apparently Wilson has the same problem. Because it was less than 30 seconds after I said something about my brain spinning wrong on its axis that I looked down and said, "OH, WILSON!" Poor thing let it all go, if you know what I mean. Phil's got dog puke all down his sleeve, I've got it running down the back of my pants, and the center console is totally covered. Needless to say, Astoria was a little bit closer than Long Beach and they have a Fred Meyer. A few Clorox wipes, some Fabreze, and new towels and we were good to go.
FYI - Need new towels? Just have your dog puke in your car. Oh, and he peed too. I think I forgot to mention that. (This whole having a dog thing, there is a learning curve to it all.)
We ended up spending most of the day at Fort Stevens. It was really nice. Until the wind kicked in. After that, unless you wanted sand permanently implanted in your eyes, you might as well stay in the car.
Wilson wasn't too thrilled about the water. I think it was just too cold for his gigantically big feet. He was more infatuated with the shells and broken sand dollars he could chew.
He did do pretty good with the driftwood retrieving.
And he only got a little bit sandy.
Holy cuteness, Batman. He makes going to the beach for the day take on a whole new meaning.