Word count: 392
Jimson stood near the shore of the Lunenburg harbor, looking out at the assortment of boats with one hand on his hip and the other resting on his staff. The warmth of the early afternoon sun was tempered by a briny autumn breeze. He thought that the ocean was beautiful, though he preferred the unmarred stretch of a natural beach to the harbor, cluttered as it was with piers, boats and cables. It was a sight to see, though, and he imagined a time in decades past, when the harbor would have been a bustling port, humans crawling all over the boats. The Pyrenees had a difficult time imagining the humans themselves, though; in his mind, it was canines in optime form that traversed the vessels, loading and unloading cargo, pulling on cables and cleaning the decks and so on. He could almost smell the strong scent of fish that he was sure would have permeated the air, once upon a time.
But now, the harbor sat empty, the only movement that of the boats gently rocking on the swells of the ocean, the only sounds those of wood creaking and seagulls calling. Suddenly, an idea hit him, and he grinned before looking more closely at the old vessels. Jimson began strolling down the coastline, eyeing the boats until he found one that suited him -- a little old trawler, still fairly seaworthy, though the deck had a good bit of rot set in and the dog was pretty sure he didn't want to see the condition of the wood beneath the coating of algae and barnacles that blanketed the hull. It was still floating, though, so that was something. It had what he needed to pilot it alone -- it carried an old motor, useless with age and lack of fuel, probably, but also a sail and a set of oars. It was barely more than a canoe, really, though big enough that he wouldn't be able to use the oars by himself; he'd have to depend on the sail for that. Setting his staff down well away from the water, he lowered himself to the pier and slipped into the lapping waves. Holding himself steady against the hull of the boat as he tread water, he began to use his hand to scrape away at the grime on the hull.
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