A Waterdog Perspective
A Waterdog Perspective
“Sugar, want to go for a ride on the Jesskie?” he asks.
I drop The Ball onto the deck of the Big Boat. “You bet!” I reply with a happy bark, accentuated with a couple enthusiastic pirouettes around the bow, as only a Jack Russell can pull off with style. He calls me his Jack Russell Terrorist, which is a very nice compliment, no doubt.
I leap from the Big Boat and onto the walkway of the dock, a single bounce, then over the other side, where he ties the Jesskie on a leash to keep it from running away. I land expertly on the seat, then give him The Look – the one that says, “Let’s see you do THAT!” (I can say a lot with The Look. For communication purposes it’s like The Wag, only more sophisticated and versatile.)
Wait, I forgot The Ball!
Back onto the walkway I go, trying to remember where I’d left it. It was here just a minute ago (or maybe an hour, or a week, who can really tell?) Anyway, I must find it. Use the nose, not just the eyes…where’s The Ball? I bet he’s hiding it in his hand again. Ha ha. Mr. Comedian.
“Get back on the ski, Sugar,” he says, “you don’t need your tennis ball. We’re not going to be playing tennis.” Then he laughs like he made a big joke. I don’t appreciate that. It’s not that I can’t take jokes. I just don’t get them. I’m a dog, for crying out loud.
I take my position on the seat and wait for Old Molasses to clamber aboard. He gets on behind me, unties the leash, presses the starter button with one of those opposable thumbs he’s so proud of, and off we go. Into the Lake. Into the Wind. I just wish we’d hurry, we’re losing time every minute.
No Wake zones are pointless and annoying. Why must we go so slowly? There are geese out on the lake, waiting to play chase. There are waves to be jumped. Fishermen to annoy. Pontoon boaters to amuse (they always take my picture). Maybe even swimming! It’s all out there on the lake. I have no time or patience for No Wake zones. I could do without them, easy.
I look back and give him another Look, the one I call Glad. He scratches me behind the ears, so I know he understands. I stand on the seat, using my paws to help him steer, then turn my face into the wind as he accelerates past the buoys. About time. Now, finally, we can hurry, which is what I’m good at.
Ah, the breeze in my face feels great, although it makes me sneeze. We go faster, and he holds me securely between his legs -- unnecessary, for my balance is better than his. If he falls off, he’d better not take me with him. But if he does, that’s ok. Go with the flow, that's my motto.
We lean into the first turn. He squeezes me more tightly between his knees and I realize I should have visited the grassy shore by the dock before we pulled out. I’d better hold it, he didn’t think it was very funny last time. (Yeah, where was his so-called sense of humor THEN? It’s only water.)
LOOK! Another Jesskie! What, no dog? Why would anyone do that? What's the point? The other Jesskie pulls away, and the race is lost for lack of enthusiasm (not mine, of course). We might as well stop now and go swimming, unless we find some water skiers to bark at. “What’d’ya say?” I ask with another look over my shoulder. “Shall we swim?”
He stops the Jesskie in the middle of the lake and jumps into the water. “Come on in, Sugar! Swim!” As if I need to be told. Oops! I “accidentally” splash water up his nose when I hit the lake. He snorts like a walrus every time that happens. Yet they say I have no sense of humor.
The water is perfect for swimming, but as far as I’m concerned, the water is always perfect. Never boring, although I admit, The Ball would be fun right now. Why didn’t we bring it? I forget.
Too soon we’re back on the Jesskie, returning to the dock. As always, I must follow the lead of Mr. so-called Master. No sweat (whatever that is), it’s time to find something to eat anyway. Oh…but please don’t mention that I called him ”Master.” He’d just puff up and strut, and that’s never pretty.
Here we are, back on the Big Boat. About time. What’s for lunch? Hey, anyone seen The Ball?
Until next time, and hurry,
My Best from The Stern
The Bad Ted
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