Here we are having lunch at the Whaler.
At first I was all excited because we got such a sweet-ass-front-of-patio table for once. Then I realized how hot it was out there in the sun. But you know what's good for that? Beer. With ice and lime.
Don't ask me how Spooney can drink a martini in 90 degree heat in the sun. He has a high martini tolerance, I guess.
We didn't feel guilty leaving the doggies home alone all day because the day before they got an extra special treat.
We have to drive to Ventura County for an off-leash beach, of course, because of LA County doesn't allow dogs on their precious precious beaches.
This time, Buster didn't drink too much sea water and vomit like a sailor, but he did attempt to drown himself twice. He has this weird habit of retrieving the ball and then turning and swimming straight out to sea, instead of toward land. Then you have to run toward the water and scream his name and hope that he hears you before he gets too far out. Which he has every time, so far.
Buster. Proof that the handsome ones aren't always the brightest.