Way back in January I told the story of how Ailsa (at just over 6 mo) had taught Baker (just shy of 7 years) how to use the new dog doors and how she had been imparting the wisdom she had learned from her Scottish Mum in helping Baker to "get a dog life". Well there was an interesting interaction last week when the tables turned.
We (Ailsa, Baker, Jura - he's home!, and I) and Robin's crew (Cala, Viva, and Zipper) decided to let the dogs get their "yayas" out at Bradford on Wednesday after work before the weather changed back to that dismal rain and cold. The 6 dogs had a super time running free, hunting up voles, eating corn cobs, and sitting in muddy puddles. We started out down the lane, then cross country until we were south of the big lake. Baker and Jura both raised their heads, smelling the water and took off like a shot - Robin and I laughed that it was the first certain sign of spring that the dogs knew they could go swimming.
Indeed, as the rest of us came to the top of the rise we could see the two springer boys swimming in the lake. Ailsa on seeing her house brothers ran down to the water and allowed herself to go in roughly to the point where she could float but also touch down her paws - about 3 feet off the edge and she was content. The three emerged from the water, shook wildly and then trotted further along the edge past a dock that was added last summer. Not thinking, I tossed a frisbee into the water causing not just Baker and Jura to leap in, but also Ailsa. They moved rapidly out to the floating object without trouble, Jura got there first and the three turned back toward the shore. Oddly enough it was at that point that it dawned on Ailsa that she was a good deal further than 3 feet from dry land and she began to flail.
When a dog panics in the water they start to do what is described as a "doggy paddle" and it is not fun to watch - the head and torso rise out of the water and their front paws slap at the water quite ineffectively. Worse, they become like sticks with a minimal volume with which to float - usually the next thing that happens in that they tire and go straight down.
Given that the worldly wise Ailsa is but a puppy and not practiced in the water and given that I do not want her worrying about water and swimming, I began to strategize about how I was going to get her out of the water, how cold it was, what clothing would need removing, how many towels were in the van, etc. etc. My rapid planning was interrupted when I saw Baker.
He had been just ahead and to her left when she panicked. When she started to flail he looked back and then slowly turned in the water toward her. When Baker swims it is with incredible ease - he always carries his back level and his head barely out of the water - looks more like a partially submerged submarine with a nice clean wake. He drew along side her and slowed until his head was near hers, the picture of calm and confidence. When she caught sight of him it was amazing as she almost instantly quieted and sank back into the same position that he illustrated thereby making herself an excellent floating object.
I swear that he was smiling as he escorted her ashore, quietly, efficiently, and, best of all, with huge confidence. Once back, she rapidly removed herself and had a great big, terribly wet shake. I thought that she would stay away from swimming again that trip, but no, a few 100 yards further along she was back in the water (YEA!) albeit very close to shore. When we go out again today, I will be interested to see how they both approach the water.
I can not tell you how proud I was of Uncle Baker for sharing one of his strongest talents with Miss Ailsa.
Ginger
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