Elf and Opus went to the sea, in a beautiful pea green Jaguar.
Really. Here they are, cruising by Pebble Beach….
During a morning walk on a lovely holiday weekend in September the pair observed a vintage auto parked right in front of their rose-covered front yard. Slung temptingly low to the ground, it had no roof to bar canine entry. Best of all the tan leather seat was open to the air with nothing to stop occupants from following their noses wherever they led, the flow of delicious air in their ears.
Both canine minds instantly awoke to possibilities when they further observed that keys dangled within. Most astonishingly, the old machine was fitted with hand controls for the driver, who must have been challenged for leg mobility just like their own person.
Lightning struck. Elf and Opus looked at each other, light of possibility blazing from their eyes. They knew exactly what to do.
Managing to keep their condo door from latching as their person brought them back inside, out they sneaked at the first opportunity. Lurking in the dark hallway, still as statues beneath a usually useless silk philodendron, they waited until an elderly German neighbor, burdened with bags, opened the elevator door.
Whoosh! In the duo hurried, tight behind him. He being tall and they being about eight inches at the shoulders, they were never noticed. Out they flew behind his heels in the basement garage. A squeeze through the bars of the rolling door was simple for them. From there making their way to the front of the building was simple.
Before they were missed upstairs those two were seated in the beautiful machine — Opus had to leap in first, then open the door for Elf. With her sturdy but short little legs she lacked his jumping abilities.
Being bossier, and aware of her status as royalty on the British Isles, she promptly took over the driver’s seat and off they went. One powerful paw on the wheel, the other moving the hand control. How many times had this intelligent Pembroke Welsh Corgi watched her person operate such adaptations. She knew perfectly how to manage.
Not wishing to attract attention she piloted sedately as she and Opus used their noses to aim for the ocean that they had never seen. She remembered the hop and skip to the Highway Going to Everywhere.
And see the Pacific they did, rolling up and down the coastal highway with the wind in their ears, ruffling thick fur and filling keen noses with scintillating whiffs of salt water, fish, sea birds, heavenly hot dogs and steaks cooking.
As for the people who gasped, pointed and stared at two dogs out for a holiday cruise, Elf and Opus steadfastly pointed their noses ahead and ignored them.
Maybe they’d think this was a new kind of Google self driving car.
They stopped long enough to chase somebody’s abandoned purple beach ball across a sandy spot on the shore — where there was even a yellow brick road to lead them back to the Jag when their tongues hung out almost to the ground from all the exercise.
…And when they woke up, there they were in their own condo, Opus sprawled on his blue duvet, Elf curled up in her bed beneath her person’s computer table.
All the person ever knew of this adventure was how deeply her beloved companions were sleeping today, and yet how their noses kept sniffing and snuffling… How fast Elf’s front paws moved occasionally, what joyous little yips she let out, just like when she chased her purple jolly ball around their old back yard. And how fast they had emptied their water bowl the moment they awakened!
The vintage Jag has vanished. The purple jolly ball, tucked away in our storage vault, seems to have been moved around.
So here sits the human, haunted by a waking vision of her canine cutups. Into her head pops a sketch:
Uh oh, have they been up to something again?
Rising Over the Smoke 