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March 1, 2005:

Young seal, beached, exhausted. Sick? Injured? Can't say.

Not afraid of dogs. Follows them southward down the beach, body surfing with minimal exertion. Not afraid of people. Looks me in the eye, moves toward me as I walk backward away from it.

.........

Outside my neighbor's door, her little doggy, Max, dead. Lying on a towel. The sound of sobs: "Oh, God..."

A few days later there's a little roadside shrine. Balloons, puppy treats, chew toys.

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