John Delach

Instinctively, she senses the water. Perched on the back seat of our SUV, Maggie extends her nose out through the partially opened window, her senses and  experience tells her that this is the way to the beach. Like a child, after a long automobile ride to a favorite seaside destination, she cannot contain herself as the Gulf of Mexico reveals itself.

Mary Ann lets us off before continuing on to her journey morning tennis  lession. Maggie and I will make our morning trek along the beach and back to our Sanibel rental. Maggie is a maniac, an ill-behaved Golden Retriever who luckily found her way to two of us, who can deal with her insanity.

Once on the ground, I hook my hand under her collar. Tugging, bucking, crying, she pulls me along until I secure my footing into the sand. I speak to her as I look up and down the beach. “It’s okay, Maggie, it’s okay.” The beach is clear; only a few early morning shellers, no unattended children and no other dogs. I take her collar in one hand and draw her close making her leash go slack. With my other hand, I open the clasp and let go.

Maggie crouches and pushes off with all her strength, kicking up sand as she bolts toward the water quickly closing the distance until she reaches the surf and plunges in. She swims through small breakers, turns, catches the next wave and body surfs back to shore.

 I jog toward the sun and Maggie darts ahead, establishing her own routine. She explores the beach, searching for sticks and coconuts to carry, sea gulls and osprey to scatter, or a decaying fish to sniff and, if its scent is acceptable, to roll upon.

 “Maggie, stop that.” I yell, but she ignores me until I have moved too far ahead for her to be comfortable. She stops and trots to catch up, overtakes me and veers back into the water, tail held high, to ride the surf again.

And so, our morning routine unfolds until we reach the public beach  populated with a few early arriving families ending my insane Golden Retriever’s daily morning activity to run freely and frolic in the surf.

She understands, I attach her to the leash as we begin our land journey back to the rental. I am proud of her. Yeah, she’s a half-baked poorly raised  rescue, but she’s ours and I am happy she loves swimming so much. When she came to us, she couldn’t travel in a car without her throwing up and dripping with uncontrollable sweat. Over time, she came around and we could include her on that three-day drive from Port Washington to Sanibel  without any of these issues.

We also taught her how to swim in Hempstead Harbor in Long Island Sound. We used tennis balls, another favorite, having her fetch them at the water’s edge. We threw them further and further until she had to accept floating and began to understand how to swim and reach them. Maggie quickly caught on to what being an aquatic retriever was all about.     

As we walk back to the house, she’d looks at me and whines. I’d look back at her and say: “Tomorrow is only a day away.”

(To be continued.)