Three Dogs. Three Agendas.

Every morning starts pretty much the same. Coffee in one hand, dog treats in the other, and off we go.

The three of them wait patiently at the gate.

Well... "patiently" might be stretching it.

Bear couldn't care less about the treats. He's already thinking about the beach.

He's a simple guy. Run first. Ask questions never.

Unfortunately, Luna knows this.

Somehow she always makes it back before Bear, and his treat has a funny way of disappearing.

You'd think they'd all enjoy the beach the same way.

Not even close...

Luna has exactly one mission.

She sticks her nose into every single crab hole to see if someone's home. If nobody answers, she moves on to the next one... and the next... until she finally finds one.

Then she digs like she's convinced China is only another six inches down.

If determination alone caught crabs, she'd be undefeated.

Bear couldn't care less about crabs.

The moment his paws hit the sand, he's gone.

He tears up and down the beach at full speed, chasing... I'm still not sure what.

Maybe the wind. Maybe a ghost.

Maybe his own imagination.

Whatever he's chasing... he's absolutely convinced he's winning.

Then there's Lucy.

Lucy walks like she's got nowhere to be... because, well... she doesn't.

She wanders the beach at her own pace, pretending not to hear anyone calling her name, taking frequent siesta's and quietly searching for her favourite delicacy... dead fish.

Apparently, selective hearing is a real thing. Lucy has perfected it.

Clint's still working toward his certification.

Three dogs.

Three completely different personalities.

The same beach every morning... and I still wouldn't trade it for anywhere else.

Meanwhile... Clint called Lucy four times.

She heard every one of them.

She simply chose not to acknowledge his existence.

Lucy and Clint may have different tastes in cuisine, but they seem equally committed to hearing only what they want to hear.

-Amy

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