Hamish the Corgi and Miss Tibbit-the-Useless forced us, absolutely forced us, to go to the land of whale hunters, pirates, beach plums, and Range Rovers. Hamish felt that his territorial expansion needed more activity in the Northeast. Miss Tibbit thought she sniffed something interesting coming from Boston-ish.

We rented a house, packed ALL of the bikes and some of the wine, and aimed the Mighty Pathfinder at Cape Cod.  Hamish remembered that he cannot swim at Sheep Pond in Brewster. He remembered that a body can’t drink wave water on the beach flats of Crowe’s Pasture in Dennis. Sweet Tibbit watched ants march across the kitchen floor toward her food bowl.

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WideEyedUncleB graciously hosted the mass of us for an afternoon in Scituate. “Hack!” Miss Tibbit coughed with purpose above his living room rug. We waited, alert and conversation suspended, for more. Later, the Spouse reported that he was prepared to catch pukies in his hands. “Great,’” I said. Later, I found the Spouse swabbing Tibbit-pukies from WideEyedCousinA’s pantry floor in Norwell. “That dog needs a bandana,” WideEyedCousinM stated, looking at Miss Tibbit. “This dog needs a hot dog,” she thought back at him, staring pointedly at the platter on the table.

Then, on a food and pirate outing, I saw something interesting resting lonely and dusty in a jeweler’s case. The Kraken. Red eyes gleamed from the base of a giant, swollen freshwater pearl. Angry sterling tentacles curled. My hands shook and I tried to stay cool. “May I see that ring, there in the front…” I asked, shoving aside some lady blocking my view.  No really, I physically pushed her giant purse out of my way and being attached to it, she followed. WideEyedLinda wandered over, fascinated I think that I heard the Kraken’s song. “I’ll get that for you,” she said in my ear. The Kraken heard her and tightened on my finger.

Here I sit back in the Buffalo domicile. My patchy sunburn peels. The smell of sea air fades in memory. Dogs lay sleeping, twitching with happy memories of sandy low tide flats scattered with dead crabs and Cape Cod stinks all over the place. The Kraken is with me, eyeing my world with its gleaming red gaze.

Why can’t vacation be always?