A dream vacation almost becomes a nightmare.
The morning started like all the others this week, this wonderful week of my vacation at the beach. I had been dreaming about this for six months, saving, planning what to take, making reservations, and then the big step of renting the little cottage.
The house stood somewhat isolated from the rest with weather-beaten gray siding. The beach side was full of windows. I spent hours looking out on the crashing waves. Sandpipers did their little dances back and forth, staying away from the incoming foam. Seagulls shrieked above, searching for their meals. Smelling the salt spray and squishing sand between my toes, I could not have been happier.
I was out of milk and, instead of a dull trip in the car, I decided to take my bicycle for the run down to the little grocery and bait shop. I thought I might want to check out the beach farther down so I threw a towel and pillow in the basket, put on my sunglasses, and started out on a leisurely ride, or so I thought.
The dog came out of nowhere. Barking and snarling, he raced around me. I pedaled faster, but I could not get away. My legs were like lead.
Just when I knew I could not pedal any farther, I heard whistles and shouts behind me. Pricking up his ears, the big dog stopped. Within seconds, he raced in the opposite direction. I hopped off my bike just in time to see the shepherd jump into a red pickup. The driver sped away without even so much as an “I’m sorry.”
With shaking legs, I sat down in the sand and let the tears flow. Feeling better, I continued on to the store. A red pickup waited by the door.