Miracle of miracles -- on Sunday morning, Bao decided to take a walk on the beach! The tide was all the way out, so maybe he thought the sea had gone back to its water dish. It was great, it really was.

He trotted along, head held high. He stopped to sniff, and peed on a dead fish. He really seemed to enjoy himself. We didn't go all the way to the water's edge, because I didn't want to push my luck. It's beautiful on the beach in the morning, and at sunset. And I've been quite flummoxed by Bao's reluctance to venture out upon the sand.

And I still am. Because yesterday, no soap. Back to square one. We tried again this morning, just before we came home. I had to tug him down the steps, but once we got onto the beach he was okay. Although he was visibly relieved when we headed back!

I'm thinking of writing to Cesar Milan. Nothing bad has ever happened to Bao on a beach. Nothing has ever happened to Bao on a beach, period. Whatever it is that's causing this, it's all in his mind. (Bao's mind, not Cesar Milan's) But could Cesar help? Dunno. Might be worth a try, though. And I'll bet Cesar wouldn't mind spending a few days at Rocky Point.

No dog seems able to resist Cesar Milan. But then again, I don't suppose they let the failures go to air. They wouldn't, would they?