There I was, minding my own business on the beach in such a way that my quills wouldn’t hurt anybody, and some dumb myopic avian tries to make me his lunch. He misjudges the distance, and the next thing I know I’ve got a dead shore bird impaled on my quills.
Rudy got it off without hurting himself, which showed a deftness that impressed me. A few hours later it was rotating on a spit, and it provided dinner for Kell, Rudy and Coney. (Dad had his usual salad, and I had shrimp scampi. To me, shrimp are indistinguishable from the insects I normally eat.)
Dad and Kell went swimming together, and I volunteered to babysit Coney. Being a toddler she requires constant entertainment, and I complied by rolling myself into a ball, and then various other shapes. It wasn’t easy.
Other than that, the vacation has been relaxing. I miss Fenton, of course, and we text each other constantly. I can see the day when we’ll be bringing our own family here.
