It’s a beautiful day on the beach in sunny Sarasota, Florida. It’s 7 a.m. and I am preparing for my daily vacation ritual of reading and listening to my iPod on the beach wall. The beach is busting with activity.
I’d like to share a story about a girl I went to school with more than two and a half decades ago. She was, to us teenagers (so worldly wise we were at the ripe old age of around fourteen), considered rather odd. Her name was, let’s say, Anna.
We were just sitting on the warm grass, side by side, enjoying the sunshine. Little did I know my dog Pip was going to teach me something very important that lazy afternoon.
The Cuckleburr Times