I mutter to the dog by my feet. Ace hasn’t left my side since we arrived at the beach, despite watching the seagulls wading along the water’s edge with a hunter’s intensity. “You failed at being a seeing eye dog, and I’m failing at being sighted. We’re a solid pair.” His head turns up at my voice and dark dog eyes meet mine. So what, he seems to be saying. We’re on the beach. Enjoy it. Perhaps he’s right about that, or perhaps I’ve lost my mind to be considering what a dog might be thinking. His mind is probably focused on belly rubs and meaty bones.
