The morning coffee brought big news:
Swimmers spotted four Great White Sharks on the beach in Chatham. Wait, let me be clear: Not ON the beach – in the water. Swimming around … and around … and around. Some would call that circling – orbiting their prey, slowly moving in for the flesh-ripping, limb-tearing, feeding-frenzy. But I’m not here to give sharks bad press – that’s already been done – I’m just trying to help you, the reader, understand the everyday danger that is my life. I risk it all to bring you, the reader, a good story.
So, off we went up the coast. Past Chatham, to Wellfleet. Wellfleet, where there is no swimming ban. God forbid we miss a beach day because the “Coast Guard” spotted some 14′ sharks. The Atlantic called us and it would be rude to ignore the call – we had to dive right into the water like good-natured guests.
A seal joined us – not more than 15 feet from shore. If he were walking on land he’d be limping… I don’t know what that’s called in the water. Drowning?
Oh, Seal! Do you remember our meeting last year? I do. It was magical. Last year, I had to swim ever so far – my legs dangled 100 feet above the ocean floor – they were like little noodles hanging off the end of a fork, ready to be swallowed up by the sharks. This year, you bob seductively near shore… it would be effortless to get to you. But I won’t do it because I am sensible and also I saw this
hovering overhead. A sure sign that somebody is looking for sharks. I said, LOOKING FOR SHARKS. We decided that building sand castles is pretty fun.