On The Water

Water-loving standard schnauzers. I took mine to a small beach today. He can't swim yet, but he gets in the water if other dogs are doing the same. One was swimming to retrieve a big stick. Kafka waded in, then waited until the other dog got to shore to snatch away his stick, or at least engage in a tug-of-war of sorts. He wanted to retrieve the stick floating yards away, but he stood chest deep in the murky bay waters, as if thinking, "I wonder how this other dog can get to the stick."

In the meantime, I tossed sticks much closer to shore, which he retrieved. He would not drop them at my feet, content to leave them where I would have to work at retrieval myself. If he intercepted the retrieving dog, he would grab an end of the stick and growl, or chase him along the beach and try to climb on his withers with one paw, growling all the time. This went on for about twenty minutes, then most of the dogs his size left and we went hiking.

He had a red backpack on. People would ask, "Is he a special kind of dog?," and I would say, "Yeah, his job is to carry his own water." In reality, I put on the backpack because its color would help me see him in the deep underbrush growing at the Albany Bulb. It was empty but for the sand it had collected during the retrieving excercise. On the edges of this landfill, cement rubble prevents you from enjoying a flat, safe hike. So I can call, "go back," and he will backtrack out of the smaller paths. If I point and say, "this way" at a fork, he will go in that direction. And If I say "water," and he is thirsty, he will sit and wait for me to take the bottle out of his backpack. We are getting used to each other, even near the water.