Yeah, it’s me, Chewy. The legend. The porch protector. The muscle. Today, I left my post to hit the open road. Two hours north, and bam—we’re in some town near Lake Michigan. I don’t care what it’s called. All I know is: sand, waves, freedom, and the sweet smell of grilled food in the air. That’s my kind of day.
The Barker family reunion was on. Leon, Colin, Julie, Daddy, Peanut, Cruise, Emma, Joel—everyone was there. And yeah, Cruise. Let me tell you something about Cruise. He still thinks Emma’s his mom because he lived here as a pup when Leon was off doing his hero stuff. Newsflash, kid—I was here first. She’s mine. I don’t care how cute you think you are with your little tail wag. We’re “polite enemies,” but I keep an eye on him.
We all stayed at the Holiday Inn, but my highlight was the lake. After dinner, Joel and Emma took Peanut and me to the beach. Peanut acted like a prince, strutting around, pretending the waves were beneath him. Me? I dove in like the champ I am. That water hit my chest, and I felt alive—like I could take on the whole lake and win. The waves? Pathetic. I cut through them like I owned them.
The place was crawling with people and off-leash dogs, so Emma stayed close to me. Not that I needed guarding—if any of those dogs tried something, I’d shut it down fast. But I get it. She worries. She knows I’ve got fire in me, but also that my time might be shorter now. I’m not saying I’m old, but I’ve seen things, done things. And she knows this beach is my heaven.
Tonight, as the sun dropped low and painted the water gold, I stood there with the wind in my fur and thought, Yeah, this is it. This is the good stuff. If this is my last beach day, I went out like a king.
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