It should’ve been a blissfully quiet Saturday morning in the lovely month of May. A “rural” marina called Wacca Wache in SC. Far away from the hustle and bustle of Charleston City Marina SC. Where, incidentally, they found a foot in a shoe on the dock the day we left.
You are staring at eight bundles of canine energy with no idea of which one to pick. Suddenly one separates itself from the melee. It rolls over to display a fat pink tummy, struggles back on to four stubby legs and waddles in you direction.
More or less a year ago, on a rainy day, like today, the HOTH (Head of the House) aka The Captain, was surfing Craig’s List looking for dinghies. Which I considered strange considering we’d bought one.
“Come look,” he said, with that lilt in his voice which translates t...