Day 21.
This is a dachshund digging in the sand.
She has nothing to do with Pico’s story. She is not lost in Coronado. She does not encounter dragons or crows or hotel doormen. She is simply a dachshund, at the beach, doing what dachshunds do.
She belongs in the book anyway.
Here is the thing about Ocean Beach: you cannot tell the story of OB without Dog Beach. It is not a feature of the neighborhood — it is a fact of it. One of the first off-leash beaches in the country, and the dogs who use it do not take the privilege lightly. Every size, every breed, every level of dignity. Some fetch. Some swim. Some dig holes that have no apparent purpose and no planned end.
This one digs.
I am building a full Dog Beach scene — many dogs, many breeds, all drawn in the style of P.D. Eastman. Go, Dog. Go. Big dogs, little dogs, red dogs, blue dogs. If you grew up reading that book, you know the energy: loose, joyful, a little absurd. That is Dog Beach. That is exactly Dog Beach.
The dachshund came first. I could not help it. She is so earnest about that hole.
The finished image will be one of the most San Diego things in the entire book. There is no separating Dog Beach from OB, and there is no separating OB from Pico.
More dogs coming.
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Come back tomorrow for Day 22.
— Stooge