Fayston, Vermont. Last week, my son and I visited some friends who live on the Peconic Bay on the East End of Long Island. We used to have a summer house there, and it is truly my happy place. We hadn’t been back in a few years. Walter decided to stay home and work as he spent the previous week mountain biking with his sister, et al. He kept Charlie and Linus. I took Lucy, who is the only real swimmer of our pack and doesn’t bark much, either – a great trait when neighbors are close by.
We left Vermont with just enough time to take a brief breakfast stop in Randolph, then a pit stop in Connecticut before queuing up for our ferry reservation. Lucy soaked up the sun on the ferry deck and made many, many friends. Upon arrival at the house, she ran straight into the water, swimming in circles and lapping at the waves she created. Then she pooped. In the water. A GIANT healthy log.
Good thing the tide’s going out, said our host.
As we unpacked, I put out a bowl of fresh water for Lucy. She drank. And drank. I had given her water along the way, but she drained the bowl.
Then she threw up. Mostly water, and some seaweed. (How’d she manage that?) Our host quickly grabbed the mop. Tile floor, thankfully.
Lucy didn’t eat much at all after that. Our host said she was too embarrassed.
Special thanks to our hosts for their good-natured hospitality.