“So, let him off the leash,” I said. “I think the fine for the first offense is only twenty-five dollars.”

John picked up his pace to catch up to Horatio. “It’s against the law. And if Horatio gets caught, it probably stays on his record permanently.”

“Ha.” I took a big skip to catch up to John. “You sound like one of my preschool parents. They’re always trying to get me to change my parent-teacher conference reports so their three-year-old’s lack of interest in blocks doesn’t end up on his permanent record and keep him from getting into Harvard.”

“You’re missing the point,” John said.

A spectacular dog whizzed by us, heading straight for the water. We all turned to get a better look, even Horatio.

The dog was large and brown with a fluffy topknot and wiry curls covering its body. “Is that a standard poodle?” I asked.

John shook his head. “I think it’s an Irish Water Spaniel. You didn’t happen to notice whether or not it had webbed feet, did you? That’s a sure sign.”

“Can’t say that I did. I’ll try to be more observant in the future.”

We started walking again.

“An Irish Water Spaniel,” John said, “is on my short list for our new dog.”

“My father would certainly approve of the Irish part,” I said. “Wait. Ix-nay on the og-day talk. Remember? It’s on our short list of forbidden subjects until after the renovation.”

John shrugged. “Okay then, I won’t mention that I ultimately ruled out Irish Water Spaniels because they have a strong prey instinct and can’t be definitively trusted without supervision around children and smaller pets.”

“The kittens and I thank you for that.”

“But,” John said, “I found some other interesting breeds to look into down the road: Affenpinscher, Löwchen, Brussels Griffon, Coton de Tulear.”

“Too chichi for me,” I said. “There’s no way I want a dog that would make us dress for dinner before we could feed it.”

I thought it was a pretty good line, but John didn’t even crack a smile.

“It’s just,” he said, “that since Horatio’s lineage is a mixed bag, I was thinking it might be interesting to choose a dog based on breed characteristics. What about a Boston Terrier? Easily trained. Highly intelligent. Great manners—its nickname is even the American Gentleman. They’re a little bit territorial, but I think Horatio could win one over.”

“Uh-uh-uh,” I said. “Not until after the renovation dust has settled.”

Chapter Eleven

I looped my arm through John’s and steered him back up to the top of the beach. Horatio galloped along beside us.

“Ta-dah,” I said. “Another amazing Marshbury holiday beach custom.”

A scraggly scrub pine, probably a first cousin of Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, stood in a little clearing surrounded by clumps of autumn-colored sea grass.