Dennis Hollingsworth

Tide Pools

Every morning, we take our dog Juno out to go potty (Caganera!) in the dry riverbed, now a parking lot next to the beach. Our path takes us to the point at the base of the old fortifications where the rocks meet the sea.

Juno runs the seagulls of in a huffy display of bossiness. She will chase them, jumping across the river and into the surf, she has no fear of water. One morning soon, I want to take her out for a swim, early, before the beach policeman tells us to get the hell out of there.

And we usually sit and take in the morning air, the smells, light and sounds of the city workers preparing the beach for another day of tourist tanning. A morning meditation on the rocks. At that time, you might see the skippers of the glass bottom boats, rowing out in their dingy to their tourist craft moored out in the water. Like clockwork they are.