John Delach

Part One: The Big Orange Dog

Harry was the first of the big orange dogs who became our family dog and showed us why Golden Retrievers are special. He set the standard for all to come. Bright and alert, his favorite pastime was swimming in the still waters of Stone Pond in Marlow, New Hampshire. Stricken with arthritis early on, his passion continued even when walking became difficult. We rigged a wooden ramp covered with carpet fabric to assist him getting into and out of the back of our truck. We chauffeured him to local ponds and his nose sensed water before he could see it. Excited and agitated, he had little patience until he knew we had arrived at his favorite destination.

Disregarding his infirmity, he rushed from the truck as soon as we opened the rear gate and jumped into the pond. Strong again, he started swimming and what a swimmer he was, fast and smooth with deliberate strokes that created a graceful wake that spread across the water as he progressed in his pursuit of the tennis ball I had launched from the shore. To accommodate his range and speed, I hit the ball as hard as I could with an old Prince tennis racquet. Upon reaching the ball and capturing it in his mouth, he would return in his triumphal and graceful manner. As soon as he reached shore, he released the ball, turned and plunged back into pond swimming in the direction that he anticipated I would hit the ball next. Watching for the telltale splash, he picked up his pace and swam in that direction. If he didn’t see a splash in a timely manner, he lifted his chest out of the water and began swimming in larger and larger circles until he spotted the floating ball.

Time and again, he continued to retrieve balls without noticeable fatigue or loss of interest. His endurance never ended. It was me who finally gave up on the idea that I could outlast him. Once, out of the water, his pain and stiffness returned and he let me help him back into the truck. When necessary, I lifted him in my arms so that he didn’t have to negotiate the ramp. I didn’t mind getting drenched in the process.

Part Two: Morning Swim

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 tell 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 to her morning tennis lesson. 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 the two of us who can deal with her insanity.

Once on the ground, I place 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 that she loves swimming so much. When she came to us, she didn’t know how to swim. We taught her using tennis balls 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 and she even learned how to body surf.    

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