a friendly drinking companion

Saturday evening we headed to Half Moon Bay, a small town just a little south of San Francisco on the Pacific coast, to marvel at what is supposed to be a gorgeous stretch of coastline. It was sunny when we started driving, but by the time we got there, the clouds and fog had of course rolled on in. So we figured food and drinks were the only other acceptable option. We got a booth at the San Benito saloon on Main Street, ordered chili, clam chowder, and fried macaroni and cheese wedges (seriously), and before we knew it, a little dog came prancing in like she owned the place and promptly took up a spot on a bar stool next to her owner, a gruff-looking older man whom you would never expect to own such a dainty dog. It was precious. 

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