There
are times in life when I’m beyond grateful to be where I am at an exact moment
in time. Today was one of those.
I
was in my backyard with my dog, Sadie.
We were playing fetch with a Frisbee.
I threw it, and Sadie, having already chased it down and brought it back
to me countless times earlier, headed out in hot pursuit. But this time, as she ran past the shallow
end of our pool that juts out, her rear right leg slipped off the pavement,
causing her to slide into the pool.
I
didn’t think too much of it, assuming she’d simply pull herself out or swim to
the steps. But then it dawned on me,
she’d never been in our pool before, so didn’t know where or how to get out.
Sadie’s
instincts kicked in and she spun round, grabbing hold of the edge with both
front paws, her nails digging into the brick coping. Meanwhile, our other dog, Cleo, and I rushed
towards her, our other dog arriving prior to me. Sadie struggled to gain a good hold with her
rear legs to help boost herself out of the water. But she failed. Cleo grabbed for Sadie’s collar to help pull
her out, but wasn’t strong enough, being lighter in weight.
Watching
all this unfold, I noticed the absolute panic that set into Sadie’s eyes once
she realized she couldn’t hoist herself out of the water. Panicking, she struggled more, only
exhausting herself. As I approached, I
watched her grip on the edge slip and she slid down further in the water.
I
arrived at the edge of the pool and tried to coax her over to the step that was
a mere five feet away. I knew that if I
could teach her to get out on her own, Sadie would be safe around the
pool.
Unfortunately,
she was beyond reasoning and ignored my pleas to have her let go of the side,
to her the only hope she had of getting out, and swim over to me. Reaching in, I grabbed hold of her collar and
guided her to the step, expecting her to immediately jump out of the water, her
feet now supported.
But
Sadie was too exhausted and frightened to do anything other than stand on the
ledge, leaning her body towards me as I petted her muzzle, head and back. The whole while, I told her what a good girl
she was. I could have pulled her from
the water myself, but I needed her to understand that she could get out
unassisted.
I
allowed Sadie the time she needed to calm down.
Once I noticed her breathing resume normal, I stepped away from her and
called her name. She looked at me,
despair in her eyes, but didn’t try to come to me. My heart ached to extricate her from the
water, but my better thinking won out and I again called to her, this time
squatting down and patting my hand on the concrete just a few feet from
her.
This
time Sadie responded. With great effort,
she hoisted first one front leg and then the other up onto the pool deck. Then, with a little more encouragement from
me, she jumped the rest of the way out, rushing to me and showering me with a
spray of water as she shook.
Not
missing a beat, she looked around until she noticed where the
until-then-forgotten Frisbee laid on the grass a short distance away. Rushing to it, tail wagging with great
enthusiasm, Sadie scooped it up in her mouth and brought it to me, proud of
completing her task.
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