5/12/2025 Somewhere Out There

Today Katie ran, off the leash, after her ball, in a park big enough to satisfy her need for speed. She hasn’t gotten to do this for weeks. She reminds us of this fact by sitting on the boat and staring into the distance — the far distance — where, she’d like us to know, a big park surely exists where she can have some fun.

Today the park appeared: Georgetown’s Morgan Park, a peninsula bounded by the Great Pee Dee River, Sampit River, and Georgetown’s charming Front Street. Reason One to stop in this pretty Colonial-era town.

The park was soppy. Katie made it her business to drop the ball far enough from where I threw it so I’d have to get in a few steps to pick it up and reload it into the Chuck-R. She’d drop it in big puddles or, three times, in the marshes that line the rivers.

She was very pleased with herself doing this, making me work for it.

Maybe it was pay-back for the number of days when she’s had nothing but quick morning and evening walks given by her humans, who are unable to begin to run at her usual, say, twenty miles an hour. She ran this morning until she was exhausted then ran some more. She slept all afternoon.

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Meanwhile, Pete found shrimp down on the docks at the Stormy Seas Seafood Market, a family-owned nuts-and-bolts store that purveys just-caught shrimp and fish. Reason Two to stop in Georgetown. Back on the boat, he peeled and deveined three pounds to share with fellow travelers at dinner: Reason Three.

Georgetown is one of the few marina stopovers between Charleston and Myrtle Beach. There is generally a fun crowd of cruisers and Loopers that stop here while making their way north in spring (or south in autumn). It’s easy to find people to hang out with. With the rain falling steadily, we opted for having people visit Irish Hurricane instead of all of us carrying food to the marina lounge.

I went to work straightening the boat.

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Irish Hurricane’s salon is not what it once was. The L-shaped sofa has been replaced by a computer desk and recliner. Katie’s futon mattress-like bed folds into a semblance of a loveseat that is not very comfortable. Otherwise, there’s a desk chair and steps that can be used for seating in a pinch.

Nobody seemed to mind. Everyone brought something to share. Food, stories, and good will. Which is all any of us really want, someone to come and play. Someone to show up, add what they can, listen, and consider other ideas and points of view.

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After dinner, we three ladies walked back to the park – the rain had stopped, and though night was falling, Katie was up for another quick round of throw-the-tennis-ball. She was joined by her new friend Trevor, a fine and patient black and white English shepherd, who did his best to herd her back in line while she zipped off after her beloved ball.

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Everyone’s back at home now, on their own boat at their own slip. None of us are sure when we’ll see each other again. Or if. We are boats passing in the night – but aren’t most of us, whether we’re on a boat or not?

That’s okay. I think it’s enough to know there are people out there who know us at least a little bit. Who we’ve connected with and they with us. Sometimes it’s enough to be able to look to the horizon and imagine what our friends are up to, where they are, and that they’re doing okay. That our paths will recross.

It’s a kind of knowledge. Like Katie and her certainty that somewhere there is a dog park with her name on it. That one day, she’ll see it again.