Otis was in his glory on the beach. I think the water calls to his Portuguese heritage, and since Provincetown is an old Portuguese fishing village, he's a natural. He's happy chasing the ball into the water and (sometimes) retrieving it or resting in a hole he dug under the shade of the umbrella. Like a kid, it's difficult to convince him to leave the beach at day's end. (Or maybe he was just dreading the cold rinse from the garden hose?)
Completely exhausted at day's end.
A last gasp of Cape air through the sunroof as we leave town.