A seaside ramble with Woppy

"NO PUPPY! Not today! I don't want to walk on the beach today!"

Dammit ... he was pulling out all the tricks. A soft "woof, woof" with melting pools of molten gold eyes, I can never say no to. "Dammit! Come on then."

The waves were joyous today. Crashing playfully against my furry four legged dinosaur as he bounce swam without a worry in the world.

His goofy, always made me smile.

"Not too far Woppy. Tangaroa will steal

you."

Mum would call out to us kids the same thing when we swam deep to catch the back waves, while dad dived to fill his sack with kina, crayfish and paua, so our bellies were always happy.

A Woppy yelp brought me back from the past, but Xena Warrior Princess, for my fur baby I could not unleash, as my Rhodesian Ridgeback was being chased by a yappy little terrier the size of his head.

"Good grief Woppy," I muttered with an eyeroll.

I did not want to talk to the ferocious gerbal's owner today. He was sunny and I had smiled far too many times already and sad was my favourite outfit of choice lately.

Dammit he walks fast.

"Um, sorry about that," said Mr Sunshine.

"It's fine," I nodded firmly to cement the notion of "fineness".

Oh crap. He's taken my answer as being rude and not the fact I just really really want him to go away.

Okay brain we can do this.

"But if he, ya know, murdered my doggie. I would have to sue."

Light beamed from Mr Sunshine's craggy face as he bent down to scoop up his feral ferret.

I rubbed Woppys head as he looked longingly at Mr Sunshine.

"No new dad for you mister," I mind messaged him.

"People like the tides never stay".

I pushed that hurt right back where it belonged. We all know ... it's just life. Right?

Mr Sunshine was speaking but I was listening to my woe instead. She was loud and whingey and took up far too much space in my head.

I nodded and mhm'd, hopefully in all the right places and caught his "have a great day ... then", before he turned to walk back up the beach.

"And you also", I called over the yaps of his hairy McLarey.

Squishing my toes into the sand as the ocean covered them, felt nice.

All is ... "kei te pai - good", said my quiet self.

That was the last thing I said to mom when dad with our ancestors came for her.

"Kei te pai mama. It's time to go now. Time to go home - ki Hawaikii nui, Hawaikii roa, Hawaikii pamaomao."

It was a peaceful full moon, early morning. Electricity filled the room and my long hair stood for a freaky second but it was over before it began. They were all gone and my mum along with them.

"Moe mai ra (sleep peacefully), mummy."

She was so frail and tired and I knew our time together was coming to a close.

My goal was to make her laugh and know she was loved with tender rubs and songs and prayer.

Woppy would nuzzle her hand when it fell to the side of the bed in sleep and us three would be in a space of peace ... just being.

Together.

Woppy zoomed past me in the shallows, making sure to splash as much of the ocean on to me as possible.

"Good one. Not!." It was a half hearted scold.

I watched the big goober scamper off from my side to scramble over the rocks while I went to greet the cliff face.

"Kia ora (hello)," I said pushing my cheek against the warmth of my mountain.

"I almost didn't come today. My feet wanted to stay home. My mind has been heavy and my heart so very sore."

I stood still in an embrace of sun, and wind and earth, grief smouldering in my gut. Eyes closed, ears closed. Breathing in grit and salt and sea.

"I seek strength, wisdom, kindness for myself and others."

It was the same prayer I had been asking here my whole life.

"Time to go Woppy."

"Woppppppeeeeyyy," I called. But not too loudly because it upsets Tangaroa when you yell, or fight, or cuss.

Where is that big galoot?

A flash of bounding gold came flying off the hillside, down the beach and into the surf.

Then he was racing towards me, ears flapping at the side of his head and his eyes like saucers.

Ruh roh, whatever that was hanging out of the side of his mouth, was surely something icky.

Sniff-ari expeditions in the past has him proudly return with - shoes, a fish head, a rotting dead seagull and numerous charred lamb tails - a local culinary delicacy, cooked on the beach over an open fire, in Springtime.

However gross the treasure is ... I praise him for being an amazing hunter, while I pull out the - never leave home without it - squeaky ball from my pocket, to stop any arguements about why his "treasure" is not coming home.

I frowned at my furry dinosaur, still some distance away from me. He had stopped, dropped his treasure and picked it up again to continue his trek back to me.

Good grief, is he ... strutting? Is that a very pleased with himself look on his face?

At my feet he dropped a shell. A beautifully polished shell with pearl like hues.

Thousands of shells I have seen and admired, but this shell was elegant it was beautiful.

Elbow long gloves were donned as dad clasped mum's three-strand pearl necklace.

She was soon to be crowned our cities Queen by the Mayor in a fundraising beauty pageant.

How could such a creature be my mother I wondered as I stared lovingly from excema puffy eyes. The fingers of her chubby four year old daughter wanting to hold her so badly but her hair was perfectly coiffed, I would have made her messy. She was so sparkly.

A quick kiss and a "be good for nan" and she swept out the door ready to rule the world.

The sea shell glistened in my hand as I wiped off the sand and Woppy's slobber

with my hoodie sleeve.

I touched the shell lovingly.

"Its beautiful Woppy. Thank you."

I put the shell to my ear and over the call of the ocean. I could hear her.

Woppy thumped his tail against my leg.

And barked once as if to say. "Hurry up," what's nan saying?

I gently pushed the shell to his ear, he stood as still as a statue, then plopped down at my feet and lifted his head and as I refused the tears to fall, he howled as if to the moon.

"I love you," was the message she left for us.

"We love you too mummy," I told the sea shell.