Cody and Cricket needed a little help, usually being held while they paddled, but they didn't mind the water very much. Cody was messy as hell, though, and dog paddled like he was trying to smash something. Swimming near Cody meant certain death.
Harley would jump into the pool even if it had the cover on it, so some strategic removal of the porch steps was needed.
Bear would never admit it, but underneath all that Chow fur was one hot dog waiting to be cooled off. We kinda had to push him in but once he was there, he'd make a few slow laps before realizing we thought it was cute.
After having so many water-friendly dogs, it seemed only natural to introduce my first dog, Ares, to the water. After all, Keeshonden are barge dogs, they live on boats and live for the water. The only problem was a lack of a pool. Luckily, my husband's family had a cow pond.
When Ares was a larger pup, we took him to the pond to see if he'd walk in. He sniffed around the edge but didn't really know what to think.
"I know how we'll get him to swim," my husband said. He picked Ares up and threw him in the pond, thinking he'd activate the dog's SWIM NOW OR DIE reflex.
It worked. Ares resurfaced and paddled over to the edge of the pond, came out, shook all over us, and waded back in. When he was older, he went on an extensive road trip with me to southern Indiana to see one of my friends. It was nearing 90 degrees when we took a walk through a local park, so when we came across a small lake, I picked Ares up and tossed him into the water at least four times. By the fourth or fifth throw he quit coming back to me and just stood belly-deep in the water, smiling. To this day the dog won't swim but he'll wade deep enough for the water to reach up his sides and just stand there.
One time, a few years ago, Brutus got out of my husband's parents' house and went running. They own near 100 acres of land but with a fairly busy highway bordering the front yard, so catching a Miniature Pinscher before he became truck prey was imperitive. Brutus took off through the corn fields with my husband close behind. The dog was herded back to the clearing where the cow pond lies. Brutus stopped at the water's edge and considered his options.
At this time in his life, Brutus was incredibly obese. He was already winded from running, and as my husband closed in on him, he had to make a choice. Brutus looked from the water to his pursuant and back again, and decided he'd find a way to make fat float.
My husband just stood on the edge of the pond, watching and laughing hysterically.
There once was a time when such a Herculean effort was possible for Brutus, but not that day.
Orion is the more timid of the bunch. He listens the best and is the better behaved of the three, but he is VERY sensitive. He doesn't take jokes very well. Or lessons that worked so well with other dogs.
The first time we brought Orion to the Edinboro house with the pond, it was deep into summer and hot outside. He was still a puppy and was following Ares around like a little brother would. Ares waded into the pond and stood there, lapping at the water. Orion paced back and forth on the shore, trying to figure out how Ares was doing that. We figured, hey, if it worked for Ares, it should work for Orion.
Orion had sunk like a rock. After a few beats he came back up, realizing he didn't have to be curled in a ball and could actually stand on the mud. He crept out of the water and shook off, and swore off any further contact with the wetness that would surely devour him. He even cowers for baths.
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