Alone on the beach now, black dog races in circles yapping at the waves, enjoying the wet sand beneath his paws. Clear sky now and smell of warmer weather coming. Racing in circles then stops suddenly, smelling something good and strong too, fishy, chewable maybe. Sniffing and scrabbling away at the sand, seizing something in his mouth and yanks it out proudly. Grips it in his teeth and shakes it. A human foot this time, bone and some decomposing flesh still strapped into sodden running shoe.
At the top of the dunes his owner whistles, shouts out his name.
Dog yaps, drops his new find, barks and runs across the smooth wet sand towards the stones, the dunes, the car park, the pub, the village