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Today we went to the seaside. To a child the ocean is a mythic mass, extending from your tiny wading toes all the way to the other end of the earth, to the other end of existence. But to a dog, the ocean is water, no different from the pond in Carlisle where he first dove in or the puddles of muddy mess that he laps in the street.

Metaphysical symbolism nonwithstanding, however, Rascal loved the seaside. Turns out that Rockport on Saturdays is filled with dogs, dogs running and playing everywhere you look, dog heaven! Rascal ran and ran with all different puppies, even following some into the water of a calm seaside tributary. Once the water dropped over his head, Rascal was pretty surprised. He waded back to us with a rather ungracefull dog-paddle, and we his parents were very very proud.

Rascal also showed marked fearlessness on the jetties, jumping from rock to rock. This is a trait he takes from his father, Dan. Rascal fished in the stream and even caught some big pieces of seaweed. All in all he very much enjoyed the whole trip. Except the car ride. He threw up in the back seat. It was gross.

When we came back everyone was tired. Dan tells me we can go on more fun trips, before i grow up and get a job. The next one will be to Ikea, hopefully. Now won't that be an adventure!!!

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