A Gentle Floating Friend

I pushed past the damp cottage porch and waddled down to the water's edge where the morning tide rolled in smoothly. Right near a weathered wooden pier piling, a smooth, abandoned cork fisherman's float was bobbing gently in a shallow hollow of sand. It didn't startle or bob away when I nudged my snout against its rounded, sun-warmed side. Feeling how sweet and patient it was, I used both my front flippers to guide it into a calm, glassy pocket of sea, resting my chin right on top of its buoyant curve as the quiet morning ripples swayed us back and forth.