I nearly lost Pippa's frisbee this morning. We were on the cliff top and I was throwing it for her inland into the fields, but then (inevitably, I suppose, it had to happen sooner of later) the frisbee snagged my gloved fingertip and went spinning out over the cliff top. We watched in horror as it went sailing down to the high tide-washed beach below.
Nooooooooooooooo!
I looked for a way down, but there wasn't one. There were other dog walkers on the beach but none of them were going that far because of the incoming waves. However I was too cross at the thought of losing a brand new frisbee to just shrug and forget about it. So we walked on until I found a way down. It's a clay cliff, all wet mud and tufts of grass, and I had to tread carefully to avoid slipping and tumbling down on my arse.
Once down, we went back through the incoming waves to where I guessed the frisbee should have come down. Every other wave sloshed into the tops of my wellies, slowly filling them until we got to the spot. I scanned the hillside up and down, but there was no sign of the frisbee anywhere. But then, at my feet, a flash of red! Washed up right to the cliff line was the jolly red disc, half submerged and smothered in sand. Huzzah!!
I plucked it from the water and sloshed back to dry land, where we resumed the endless cycle of throw, fetch, and stubbornly refuse to give it up no matter what, all the way home.
