Sea Lion Shores a road in louveciennes

Oh, but what fun he was having! These beasts were so heavy that they were like slugs! His noise was briefly muffled by the groans and grunts of their own chorus, but occasionally, at least one bull would turn its head and regard him with a dumbed eye; and he laughed through his teeth, standing just out of range of their moored bodies. Renoir began to pace around them as if to hunt, his paws leaving wide prints in the wet sand, and quickly enough there were rows upon rows of his marks curling crescent-shaped around the horde of beasts. He paused only when a voice came creeping down to him, and it caught him off guard; with a raise of his head and the subtle pivot of his golden ears, he listened through the cacophony of the irate mirounga.

When he identified the voice as female, Renoir's efforts to tempt fate were swiftly abated. He turned towards the shore and loped with even strides until he could see the girl, and then he let out a little bark for her too; after his last encounter upon the edge of the world, he was thoroughly overjoyed upon finding a real, live woman. Renoir danced towards her, stopping short by a few wolf-lengths, and grinned happily across the sand. They are slow, jis ti fi! Come, let us tempt them together!

He was in a queer mood - not so much a refined young soul now, after spending so long in this wilderness. Being alone was not so difficult nor painful, he had surmised. Having company was always better, though.