The days in West End were sunny, salty, warm, and absolutely wonderful.
Mom worked all day on her computer. As usual.
Dad and I, First Mate Karl, handled the real business of boat life.
Full time boat living is no joke. There are always chores. Always things to fix. Everything takes twice as long as it does in “sticks and bricks,” which is what Dad calls regular houses. On a boat, a good day is when you fix two things and only one new thing breaks.
That is considered a win.
The marina in West End had a lot of sharks. No swimming there. Not even one brave paw.
Those sharks had heard the dinner bell too many times when fishermen cleaned fish at the docks. Now they cruise through like it is a floating buffet.
This Shepherd was not going to be the special of the day.
The swimming area near the reef was more my speed.
Warm water. Fun friends. Sea turtles drifting by like wise old captains. Big Southern stingrays gliding around like underwater rugs. Tropical fish everywhere.
Mom kept saying the coral reef was beautiful. Over and over.
Mom and Dad put on their funny dive faces and disappeared underwater to explore. I supervised from above by splashing and “accidentally” drinking salt water when they were not looking.
Sister just laid down in the water and looked peaceful and happy. She prefers floating to fetching.
We went to the beach at least twice a day.
It was amazing.
Life changing.
Top tier island living.
On Dad’s birthday, Mom was working. (Again. Love you, Mom.)
So Dad and I decided it was time for a proper men’s day out.
We walked out of our part of the island. I was feeling slightly tragic because I had lost another Chuckit ball to the ocean. Gone forever. Claimed by the sea.
So there I was. No ball. Just memories.
Then we found it. A basketball court.
It was off season and completely empty. One lonely basketball sat there like destiny.
Dad looked at me and said, “Want to shoot some hoops?”
I am many things. Athletic is one of them.
The ball was a little squishy. But a good Shepherd does not quit because of minor air pressure concerns.
Dad made the shot. I retrieved the ball. We repeated this system with excellence.
It was the best time ever.
Chuckit who.
After basketball glory, we walked farther and found something magical. A place called a Tiki Bar.
I had never heard of such a thing. But they had drinks. So Dad had a beer. I supervised.
It was right by the ocean with boats in view and plenty of people to watch. This was where the marina and hotel workers went for lunch even though much of the island was closed for the season.
Dad said it was good and that we should bring Mom.
Dad has good ideas.
We went home to report our findings.
Sister had stayed behind because she cannot walk as far as I can. Also she barks at everybody. She is not mean. Just loud. And older. And slightly suspicious of everything.
When Mom heard the words Tiki Bar she stood up immediately.
Next thing I knew, we were all back by the water and Mom was drinking weird pink beer.
Dad looked proud.
And I, First Mate Karl, had successfully executed a birthday mission.
Another solid day in West End.