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Willow meets the king of the dougs

We're back from Beach Trip No. 2, this one to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Everyone had a good time, and we all enjoyed our time with family.
Even though that was the big highlight of the trip, time with family, for Che, Willow and me, Willow might bend your ear more about another thing that happened on the vacation (if Willow could say more than "dadadada," that is).
Che and I know spending time with family was Willow's favorite part of both our beach trips, but her second-favorite part of the trip to the Outer Banks wasn't the sand or the toys or the pool or the surf or the sun or the bike rides.
No, siree, Bob.
If our little chatterbox could actually put together sentences that you and I could understand, she'd go on and on about the hulking gray puppy dog of a great dane we saw at Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. We saw the pup as we were getting pictures in front of the lighthouse after some of us climbed its 257 steps (then dizzyingly descended those same steps).
Once she spotted the dog in the distance, she took off after it, pointing and saying, "Doug!" (as she does with ducks, dogs, men named Doug and, now, canine-breathed horses). The owner saw Willow and her cousins approaching and, to her credit, she didn't high-tail it out of there. She let the kiddos approach then pet the dog.
Willow (who came up to the pup's knees, I think) was content to stand six inches from the dog and just stare. She had a wickedly gleeful look on her face the whole time. It's as if she'd been living all her 14 months to get to this point, standing beside the biggest dog known to man (at least the biggest one known to me). I don't think it gets any better than that for a dog-loving toddler.
I forget the dog's name, and I don't have pictures right now of the encounter, but I'm sure one of us documented the meeting on one of our phones or cameras (heck, maybe I did, but I don't recall, and we, meaning Cherish, haven't had time to go through the pics yet).
After several minutes, we finally unglued the kids from the scene and let the owner and her 2-year-old beast reclaim their quiet moment in the blazing shade.
As we were walking away, I could see it in Willow's eyes; she'd just had the time of her life.
And I think she was walking just a bit taller.

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