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| Us. And Mike as a puppy. |
We had a dog.
Mike.
Big dog.
Saint Bernard.
Very protective.
He thought nothing of risking his very life defending us from such dangerous things as – the cat. Tumbleweeds.
The occasional cardboard box, blowing in the wind.
Laundry.
In the history of the world, no one was safer.
My parents could relax, knowing that Mike was on duty . . .
It was summer.
Summer meant swimming on the ranch.
How convenient that the south fork of the Milk River curved around the ranch buildings like loving arms.
Baking in the hot sun while lying on the sandy shore.
Looking up through the cloudy water to see the particles of grit suspended in the light.
The very best of times.
Back to Mike.
Such bliss needed to be shared with our very best friend.
Right?
Well it seemed like a good idea at the time . . .
We didn’t realize that Mike was a mountain dog. Swimming hadn’t been programmed into his non-rewritable brain.
He knew only two things.
Snow.
And saving people.
Oops.
At first everything went well.
We swam.
Mike ran up and down the bank, barking frantically.
Then, the problems started.
If anyone ventured near enough to grab, he did so by whatever protruded.
Then drag them further up onto the beach.
To his horror, the ‘saved’ person would inevitably extricate themselves and, without even a thank you, nullify all his best efforts by charging back into the milky waters.
It was more than the 'saving people' part of him could stand.
He started venturing further and further into the uber-dangerous, monster filled water, seeking someone to save.
He'd find a limb.
Or a backside.
Then grab it, and whoever it was attached to, and drag them out of the water kicking and screaming.
How happy they must be that he was on hand to save them!
Listen to the sound of their relief!
He would bark happily and charge in for the next heroic act . . .
He never managed to drown anyone that day.
A true miracle.
And we learned from the experience.
After that, when we went swimming, our hero guarded the garage.
From the inside.
Mike.
Big dog.
Saint Bernard.
Very protective.
He thought nothing of risking his very life defending us from such dangerous things as – the cat. Tumbleweeds.
The occasional cardboard box, blowing in the wind.
Laundry.
In the history of the world, no one was safer.
My parents could relax, knowing that Mike was on duty . . .
It was summer.
Summer meant swimming on the ranch.
How convenient that the south fork of the Milk River curved around the ranch buildings like loving arms.
Baking in the hot sun while lying on the sandy shore.
Looking up through the cloudy water to see the particles of grit suspended in the light.
The very best of times.
Back to Mike.
Such bliss needed to be shared with our very best friend.
Right?
Well it seemed like a good idea at the time . . .
We didn’t realize that Mike was a mountain dog. Swimming hadn’t been programmed into his non-rewritable brain.
He knew only two things.
Snow.
And saving people.
Oops.
At first everything went well.
We swam.
Mike ran up and down the bank, barking frantically.
Then, the problems started.
If anyone ventured near enough to grab, he did so by whatever protruded.
Then drag them further up onto the beach.
To his horror, the ‘saved’ person would inevitably extricate themselves and, without even a thank you, nullify all his best efforts by charging back into the milky waters.
It was more than the 'saving people' part of him could stand.
He started venturing further and further into the uber-dangerous, monster filled water, seeking someone to save.
He'd find a limb.
Or a backside.
Then grab it, and whoever it was attached to, and drag them out of the water kicking and screaming.
How happy they must be that he was on hand to save them!
Listen to the sound of their relief!
He would bark happily and charge in for the next heroic act . . .
He never managed to drown anyone that day.
A true miracle.
And we learned from the experience.
After that, when we went swimming, our hero guarded the garage.
From the inside.
It wasn't funny for the swimmers but I had a good laugh. Ah, instincts....
ReplyDeleteSo sweet. I never heard of a dog doing that, but its true, St. Bernard's are used to mountains.
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of the border collie next door. He tries to herd the children. When that fails, he goes after the cars passing by.
ReplyDeleteWe had an Alsatian/German shepherd that had to be locked up when we were in the swimming pool. She just couldn't stand it and would want to jump in and rescue us, too.
ReplyDeleteAn earlier mastiff we had, not our current Buddy who is the bestest puppy (10 years old) used to adopt children and when mothers would wander back he would guard his kids from them.
ReplyDeleteAh, the Diane twist! Love it!
ReplyDelete