Sweet kisses at high tide

It's high tide and there are eight dogs on the beach at 6:45 a.m. It's easy to do the count — the beach is a lazy half moon that extends half a mile from one end to the other. Today a lone fishing boat heads out as the tide creeps in, a cruise ship arrives in port, and the sun rises behind the clouds.

As we set out, Agatha follows her nose. Head down, tail up, she stops sniffing only occasionally ... when a scent peters out or loses its appeal, an overzealous pup crashes into her, a passing dog pokes his nose at the base of her tail, or the crash of an errant wave catches her by surprise.

She's more interested in sniffing, studying, and working the ground: seaweed, driftwood, rocks, and the forgotten towel rolled and woven into the wet sand.

By the time we reach the cradle of the half moon, more dogs spill on to the beach. Often we greet one another by way of the dog, "Hi Chippy, how are ya today?" Other times, it's the dog that greets us, "Whoa, Baxter, good to see you, too!" They wag, we talk. We all move on.

And then there are those who greet the dog and only the dog.

Agatha caught his attention from a distance. With eyes fixed and head cocked, he lures her in with open arms spread wide before dropping to one knee. Equally charmed, Agatha dips her head, swings her ample ears, and wriggles her way toward him.

She sits side-saddle on his foot, scooches closer and leans in raising her nose to greet him. He coos and whispers, and coos again. And she scooches closer still between kisses.

But all too soon the love affair comes to an end.

Zelda, his bright-eyed husky takes note of the fuss, trots over and pushes her jealous way between between. Agatha snorts at the rebuttal and saunters off.

It's time to get back to business.