Bao is finally coming to terms with the Mexican beach.

He sniffs clumps of seaweed. He trots across the sand, tail high. He even occasionally ventures onto wet sand. So long as the ocean stays in what I'm sure he thinks of as its (invisible) water dish, he's happy. Walks are good.

However, he will not let me swim in the sea. If I try, he sits down and howls. People think this is cute. I think it's a pain in the ass.

It's particularly annoying because at the moment, the sea is warmer than the pool. The cold snap last week caught everybody -- including the pool guys -- unprepared. The water temperature dropped ten degrees in a single night, and although they've turned on the pool heater, it takes a few days to warm up such a big pool.

So instead of swimming, I've been sitting on my ocean-front balcony, accumulating karma by rescuing the small, flying insects that kamakaze into my glass of wine. Some of them clamber gratefully on the proffered toothpick, shake themselves off and fly away. Others struggle, more scared of rescue than they are of drowning. Or maybe they're too drunk to care. But I persevere. All life is precious.