himself. Foam rose, followed by Eva’s bulk. She took a deep breath and plunged back in.
“That’s disgusting,” someone muttered.
“I saw her carrying that bottle of shampoo,” someone else reported, “and I wondered if I should say something....”
“Well, you should’ve.”
“Wouldn’t you think anyone’d know better?”
“And right here where the dogs are! I mean, it could get in their eyes, and they could all get conjunctivitis!”
Canine ecology.
When Eva surfaced, no one said a word to her. She grabbed the towel, blotted her face, and directed at me what felt likethe evil eye. “You ought to just haul that dog right in,” she decreed. “I wouldn’t put up with that for a minute.”
Stimulated perhaps by the sight and sound of Eva, Bingo had resumed his barking. I was tempted to tell Eva that I wouldn’t tolerate that for a minute. I really wouldn’t have put up with Bingo’s noise; I’d have taken him into the lake.
As placidly as I could, I said, “Rowdy’s happy doing what he’s doing.” Assured that I wasn’t going to drag him in, Rowdy was investigating pebbles, pawing at the water, watching people and dogs, eyeing the swimmers, and probably marveling at what fools they were.
“It’s very dangerous to allow one of them to defy you like that.” Eva had swung onto the dock and was dabbing at herself with the red towel.
During our exchange, Eric had used the water toy to lure Elsa toward the shore. I had the impression that the handsome man and his beautiful dog were playing a game that both enjoyed. Moving purposefully, one eye on Elsa, Eric climbed onto the dock, begged Eva’s pardon, politely warned her to make way, and called to Elsa. When he reached the end of the dock, he bent down to rap his fist on the wood. Elsa got the message. Her eyes glinting, she veered toward the dock, swam fast, sprang out, and shook off. A Chesapeake has a coat like a duck’s feathers, insulating, oily, and water-repellent. In seconds, Elsa looked dry. With a final shake, she became a chocolate-colored streak that sped down the dock past Eva and toward Eric, who was swinging the rubber water toy by a short piece of attached rope. “Elsa, go get it!” he called. He spun the toy and sent it sailing out into the lake. Seconds later, Elsa flew past him and made a spectacular water entry.
Applause broke out.
“Fantastic!” I yelled.
“Any retriever’ll do that,” Eva grumbled. “You just aren’t used to them.”
I nearly choked. Not used to them? My parents raised the golden retrievers who raised me. I all but am one. “Oh?” I said. “Well, I haven’t seen any of the other dogs dive like that.”
Fully initiated member of the Order? Here’s a test. What’s the one true diving breed? Got it. PWD, especially for deep-water retrieves. But camp didn’t boast a single Portuguese Water Dog.
“Can’t keep Bingo out,” Eva told me.
You're keeping him out right now, I thought.
“You wanna see?” Eva asked.
The last thing I wanted to see was Bingo off leash in Rowdy’s vicinity. Before I could respond, Eva clambered up the nearby slope, set Bingo loose, then lumbered back to the lake and along the length of the dock. To my relief, Bingo trailed after her. To inspire Elsa’s dive, Eric had hurled a toy. To motivate Bingo, Eva shoved Eric aside and, standing at the end of the dock, gave a powerful upward and outward leap, curled her legs under her, held her nose, and executed a cannonball. Her heavy body hit the water as one solid mass that made a loud boom and sent water shooting high in the air. Despite the drama of Eva’s cannonball, Bingo stood at the end of the dock placidly regarding Eric Grimaldi and aimlessly wagging his tail.
Cannonballers usually resurface quickly. I watched the water. Maine is not a place where it’s safe to dive into unknown water. Submerged rocks hold still. Logs move. “Did someone check that area?” I asked Mrs. Abbott.
Entering the water
“That’s disgusting,” someone muttered.
“I saw her carrying that bottle of shampoo,” someone else reported, “and I wondered if I should say something....”
“Well, you should’ve.”
“Wouldn’t you think anyone’d know better?”
“And right here where the dogs are! I mean, it could get in their eyes, and they could all get conjunctivitis!”
Canine ecology.
When Eva surfaced, no one said a word to her. She grabbed the towel, blotted her face, and directed at me what felt likethe evil eye. “You ought to just haul that dog right in,” she decreed. “I wouldn’t put up with that for a minute.”
Stimulated perhaps by the sight and sound of Eva, Bingo had resumed his barking. I was tempted to tell Eva that I wouldn’t tolerate that for a minute. I really wouldn’t have put up with Bingo’s noise; I’d have taken him into the lake.
As placidly as I could, I said, “Rowdy’s happy doing what he’s doing.” Assured that I wasn’t going to drag him in, Rowdy was investigating pebbles, pawing at the water, watching people and dogs, eyeing the swimmers, and probably marveling at what fools they were.
“It’s very dangerous to allow one of them to defy you like that.” Eva had swung onto the dock and was dabbing at herself with the red towel.
During our exchange, Eric had used the water toy to lure Elsa toward the shore. I had the impression that the handsome man and his beautiful dog were playing a game that both enjoyed. Moving purposefully, one eye on Elsa, Eric climbed onto the dock, begged Eva’s pardon, politely warned her to make way, and called to Elsa. When he reached the end of the dock, he bent down to rap his fist on the wood. Elsa got the message. Her eyes glinting, she veered toward the dock, swam fast, sprang out, and shook off. A Chesapeake has a coat like a duck’s feathers, insulating, oily, and water-repellent. In seconds, Elsa looked dry. With a final shake, she became a chocolate-colored streak that sped down the dock past Eva and toward Eric, who was swinging the rubber water toy by a short piece of attached rope. “Elsa, go get it!” he called. He spun the toy and sent it sailing out into the lake. Seconds later, Elsa flew past him and made a spectacular water entry.
Applause broke out.
“Fantastic!” I yelled.
“Any retriever’ll do that,” Eva grumbled. “You just aren’t used to them.”
I nearly choked. Not used to them? My parents raised the golden retrievers who raised me. I all but am one. “Oh?” I said. “Well, I haven’t seen any of the other dogs dive like that.”
Fully initiated member of the Order? Here’s a test. What’s the one true diving breed? Got it. PWD, especially for deep-water retrieves. But camp didn’t boast a single Portuguese Water Dog.
“Can’t keep Bingo out,” Eva told me.
You're keeping him out right now, I thought.
“You wanna see?” Eva asked.
The last thing I wanted to see was Bingo off leash in Rowdy’s vicinity. Before I could respond, Eva clambered up the nearby slope, set Bingo loose, then lumbered back to the lake and along the length of the dock. To my relief, Bingo trailed after her. To inspire Elsa’s dive, Eric had hurled a toy. To motivate Bingo, Eva shoved Eric aside and, standing at the end of the dock, gave a powerful upward and outward leap, curled her legs under her, held her nose, and executed a cannonball. Her heavy body hit the water as one solid mass that made a loud boom and sent water shooting high in the air. Despite the drama of Eva’s cannonball, Bingo stood at the end of the dock placidly regarding Eric Grimaldi and aimlessly wagging his tail.
Cannonballers usually resurface quickly. I watched the water. Maine is not a place where it’s safe to dive into unknown water. Submerged rocks hold still. Logs move. “Did someone check that area?” I asked Mrs. Abbott.
Entering the water
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