I saw the birds ahead and the water splashing and told my daughter to get ready. Jax had sensed them long before we saw them. He suddenly jumped up and paced, anxious but excited. He came to me, and I thought he wanted to look over the edge—but he didn’t. Not yet.

Then the dolphins came. Hundreds—maybe thousands—jumping, racing, playing in our wake. My daughter’s family lit up with joy. Jax, still whining, finally came to the rail and looked over. His tail wagged. His ears popped back up. And he started that high-pitched whine he uses when he’s thrilled. Like when we approach Dog Beach or Fiesta Island—his "I can’t wait" sound.

My husband knelt beside him while Jax leaned over the rail, tail wagging, eyes wide. He’d look out, then come boop my hand, like he was saying, “Are you seeing this?!”