I could write reams of “Shannonstories”. However, dear “Dan”, some of the sweetest memories are at my mom’sEast Endhome, inSouthampton.Shannonknew a good thing. The “chattering” would begin sometime after we turned off 27, ontoHill Street. “Come on, let’s get there already”, seemed to be her” words”. My daughter, Shannon, and I visited my mom and dad’sSouth Main Streethome several times. One summer, we stayed for at least two weeks.Shannonneeded to be carried to the car, not wanting to leave. Many of the homes inSouthamptonhave expansive landscapes where children and dogs can romp for hours.Shannonwas tireless, unlike my “pitcher’s arm” which threw the yellow tennis ball, again and again. If we were in the pool; “plop”, it went, withShannonwaiting at the edge for me to toss it once more. That little wagging tail was impossible to refuse.
I sometimes long for the days withShannon. Everyone loved her, and she loved without hesitation. My mom, who is not a dog person in the least, fell in love withShannon. How could she not respond to the dog that followed her around, licked her feet, and waited outside of her bedroom door every morning? She would follow my mm out to the beautiful patio, and lie by her feet. The scent of the nearby ocean added to the sweetness of the summer morning. One of the many things that are special aboutSouthamptonis the proximity of the ocean. One always fees it is within reach. I missShannona lot. Southampton, and everywhere else, does not feel the same without her.
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