Despite the snarky comments from all you Central New Yorkers current smothered in the first snowfall of the season, every day in Hawaii isn't always synonymous with one's typical "paradise standards". As a baseline, let's define "paradise standards":
Paradise Standards: (n) The weather and/or climate whereby vacationers (out-of-towners), usually from cooler climates, typically project onto any hot vacation location (caribbean, south pacific, etc). IE: Sunshine, cool breeze, salty air, very few clouds, no rain, gorgeous.
While Hawaii most often follows this ideal, this past week has not exactly maintained standard. It's been cloudy, Rainy, on occasion. Breezy and occasionally chilly enough to put a pair of socks on; maybe even a t-shirt.
So this morning, I awoke to similar non-paradise-standard conditions, and made the decision to run errands rather than try to enjoy the peaks of sunshine. Subsequently, by pure murphy's law, as soon as I plunged into my errand run, the sun busted through the clouds and it was a gorgeous, Hawaiian day, again. [see definition above]
I rushed home take advantage of the day, and the first step was to take Rosalie on a long walk. Today, I even thought, I will attempt to bring Miss Rosalie to the beach. As I fed her lunch and picked up the house, I talked up our big adventure to the beach. I told her it was a long walk but that she would love it.
[Let's be honest, there's nobody else to talk to in the house so Rosalie is frequently subjected to conversation]
Dogs aren't allowed at the lagoons, which is probably a good thing. So instead, we were going to need to make it all the way passed Lagoon 1 into "You are now exiting Ko Olina property. You might die. We're not responsible. Mahalo!" territory.
It was ok. Hobbes was going to be with me. We could dream up all the terrible sea monsters in the lagoon once we arrived.... that is, if she made it that far.
[STARMER TANGENT]
For those of you who know our little Rosalie, you know that she very well has quite the saucy attitude. And for any of you who have walked her, or watched me walk her, or walked with me while I've walked her, you know that when Ro is done with her walk, she's done with her walk. When Ro doesn't want to go 'that way' anymore, she will dig her heals into the ground and stare at you like: "You no in charge. I in charge" (shout out to my little t-man<3).
You all know what I'm talking about?
Ok , so coercing Miss Bella to walk the 1.5 miles to the non-Ko Olina lagoon was going to be difficult. But I packed a water bottle and a tennis ball to play with in pure optimism.
We didn't even get to the end of our driveway. Naturally, Rosalie just wanted to do her business and go back inside.
So I resorted to the backup plan: I would throw her in the car and drive to the Ko Olina market. It would omit about a mile off the trip and perhaps, if she were in a different surrounding, I could trick her into continuing to walk (since she wouldn't know which way was home).
[Jump cut] After the car ride, the parking, the reconfiguring of the leash, a little more business and some human distractions, Hobbes and I made it to the edge of Ko Olina property, alone and unafraid. This time, the lagoon was 100% human-less. I set Rosalie down in the sand where she proceeded to walk on it like she had duct tape stuck to her paws. She stepped, shook the sand out of her front paw, stepped, shook the sand out of her back paw, stepped, shook her paw again. She did this repeatedly, not moving very far or fast in any particular direction. Then, the poor thing, shook her front paw one last time, then licked it and pulled in a mouthful of sand, to which she immediately coughed and gagged a little bit.
So I picked her up, and brought her closer to the water. The waves were clam and I thought she might like the experience of the salt water tickling her legs, plus the sand was much firmer near the shoreline and the water might wash off her body.
Naturally, as I set her down next to the water, a larger wave push itself onto the beach, to which Rosalie ran, with her tail between her legs, up onto the beach again. She sat down, which had to feel uncomfortable, because then she jumped up again and chased her tail. When I grabbed her, she was covered in sand and looking at me with a scorn that could melt any pet parent.
I don't like to feel messy. She doesn't like to feel messy. Our beach excursion lasted all of two minutes before I let Rosalie off her leash, and she darted toward the Ko Olina property with a get-me-the-fuck-home look on her face.
When we reached the property again, Rosalie collapsed on the grass, panting with grains of sand in her mouth, on her tongue, in her hair...
She drank directly from my water bottle.... and crushed it, and then I ended up carrying her back to the car.
Needless the say, the final photo in the collection below depicts how my little girl felt for the entirety of the afternoon and evening.
I can only image what our little Hobbes must have thought about this experience....
Me ke aloha :)
M.
hahaha omg. classic.
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