HanktheDog Blog

They say every dog has its day. Well, in my case, that day is usually a beach day. At such times, I am transformed. I go from "Hank the Simple and Schlumpy" to "Hank the Buff Beach Lab," sea water glistening on my golden coat as I bound over the sand like some non-silicon-enhanced, interspecies member of Baywatch. No longer the poor little Shoeshine Boy of the Sunshine State, I become not bird nor plane nor even frog, but a whole lot more like Underdog.

At the beach, I tread with vigilance and determination. I engage in the sort of heroic acrobatics at which my recumbent house dog alter ego would wince. I am faster than a speeding floppy disc, more powerful than a local mastiff, able to leap medium-height beach chairs in a single bound.

Afterwards, of course, I slip quietly back into my normal routine: that of a quiet, slightly sore, exceedingly ordinary Canis familiaris. There is safety in such alter egos. But I'm comforted to know that at some point Hank the Buff will be called upon again. Because every dog has its day.