US 98 in Florida is a treasure trove of food. El Cap and I are eating our way west this week.
We spent the night on St. George Island, at the similarly named state park. We had a cozy campsite just beyond the dunes. The stars lit the sky like a planetarium and the sound of the waves lulled me to sleep. Calypso, for her part, explored the camp site on a tie-out. She spent the night on my pillow, safe in the tent. She may as well be home, apparently.
Driving through the dunes, I am awestruck by their grandeur. Calypso remains unimpressed.
Me: Calypso, you don’t appreciate the experiences you have. After all, some dogs spend their lives tied to a tree and sleeping under the porch.
El Cap: Is that anything like being tied to a stake and dozing under a picnic table?
Me: Touché, sir. Touché.