Easter Sunday

So, at about 1:30 on Easter Sunday Lucy and I set out for Jasper Beach in Machiasport - one of the only beaches in the world made up of the semi-precious jasper stone and which is recognized by National Geographic Traveler as one of the world's best wild beaches.

Lucy starts to go a little bat shit when I flip the blinker off of Route 1 out of East Machias because she thinks we are going down to the Point of Main, my family land. Or maybe she goes bat shit because she knows we're going to Jasper Beach. Who the hell knows. She's a dog and I'm a human and, unfortunately for humanity, we can't really read each other's minds.

I pull into what passes as a parking lot at Jasper Beach. (Anywhere else this would be a circle dried mud where it's level on the edges but here it passes for a parking lot.) As a city person in a previous life I recognize the leavings of other visitors: fast food wrappers, tampon casings, and two 5-gallon buckets off the trail about fifteen feet which are too suspicious for me to investigate.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

In real time I don't actually get onto the beach for about an hour because there's a mom and a kid about three years of age and this dog. They are returning to their car which is also a Honda Fit. I think, "Jeez. What are the chances of THAT?" Their dog senses Lucy in a way that only other dogs can understand and both their dog and Lucy go bat shit. To make matters worse, their dog is the semi-little variety that always acts, in the presence of other canines, like they are at LEAST three times their actual size.

I wait in my car. The littler dog barks and barks and barks and barks, circling my car and Lucy is returning all the bravada. Their dog shows NO interest in getting into their car. The mom is clearly embarrassed. "He was just perfect for the last two hours but now...." I try to help her but a half hour later I give up and leave the the parking lot.

Long story short: Lucy and I drive down to Starboard, the speck of a village where I grew up. We drive up to Bucks Harbor and down to the boat launch. Wasting time. In my mind I'm getting less charitable about the fact that a dog is keeping us from our walk. On our way back to Jasper Beach I am relieved to see the mom and the kid and their little dog heading outta there in their car and that, finally, Lucy and I can go for our walk.

It's not until I get out of my car that I see that the fucking little dog has scratched up both the driver's side and the passenger sides of my car. Curses. Curses. Curses.

Lucy and I hit the beach. There are sticks to be thrown. Incoming tide in which to swim. Things to in the wind and on the beach to smell. There is lots of running. On Lucy's part. There is nice meeting up with a poker buddy and her golden lab, also walking one of the world's best beaches. A much, much, much more civilized exchange. Very quiet, actually. I observe that canines have their codes - just like us. My poker buddy and I catch up on the news of the day, mutual friends, observations about canines.

On my return to the car - where I have fresh water for Lucy, there is a couple with their chocolate lab and a kite. The same couple who got married on the beach yesterday? They appear engrossed enough. They are on the wrong side of the berm to get the wind but I don't tell them that. Instead I make a mental note to bring my kite the next time Lucy and I come to Jasper Beach.

It's Easter. We return to the house, twenty minutes away at 30 miles an hour. Perhaps the sun is warm enough to support time on the deck with recent New Yorker magazines and a drink. Lucy and I are out there for about 30 minutes in the watery late afternoon sun. On the next hill a neighbor surveys garden plots accompanied by a little child and three dogs - one of which is a Newfoundland that looks as big as a calf. Their turkeys gobble gobble gobble every minute or so. Lucy sleeps as I read about a new Director at the Metropolitan Opera: Tosca having been "a disaster". I loved their Tosca production. What does that make me? A prototypical example of the next wave of opera lover? Or something else?