My life as a Port dog

Sometimes I think theyre the luckiest dogs alive. Crunching on the crabshells left by the fishermen, dragging giant rafts of kelp around the shore, plunging into dark peaty pools in the heather. Collapsing by the fire, heads full of seabirds.

But we cant let them loose. They are young and there are sheep everywhere here, and there’s a risk that they could spook one and run it off the cliff.

At sandy Maghera beach, just ten minutes drive from Port, they can run and run and run, and terrorise the hundreds of sandpipers – who they never ever catch

We love walking children out here

We love walking children out here

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