Intrigued, I resolved to take a look and not having a dog myself, felt a little furtive, letting myself in through the double Fort Knox-like gates into a small enclosure, then through another set of gates, onto the path that leads to the beach proper. No self-respecting American beach is without its lengthy list of rules and regulations and this was no exception.
(It's long been my belief that, all over America, there are happily employed people who like nothing better than making up new rules. Hubby points out that this is because there are too many lawyers in America. He of course can say this as he's one himself.)
One wonders what constitutes suspicious activity among dogs. Also, I wasn't absolutely sure what mutt mitts were until I googled them. They are what you think they are.
Despite this, the dogs seemed to be enjoying themselves, as did their owners. They galloped up and down, ears flying. So did the dogs.
It seems, though, that only literate, or highly observant dogs should use this beach:
And they would do well to pay very close attention to that sign. Because, very near it, is another one:
Which seems to me a rather alarming juxtaposition.
Watch this space to see out who else I met that day.
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