MY BUDDY SAILS OVER THE OCEAN

It was another beautiful afternoon in the perpetually summer-like climate of South Florida. I suggested we go for a sunset sail as soon as Richard returned from his daylong keelboat class. Richard, in a highly agreeable mood, thought this would be splendid. Since he had been spending three weekends in a row teaching sailing, he wanted to make me happy. Plus, I'll admit it; the man LOVES to sail.

Buddy, our rescue dog, was his usual happy self. After all, he was with the two people he loved the most and was getting to spend some time with us on the water. Buddy loves watching people, birds, and boats that hand around the water. He finds it fascinating to put his front paws on the side of the boat while hanging his head over the edge and watching the water as we sail along. He looks like he's in doggy heaven.

It wasn't pleasant to sail with Buddy in the early days of our relationship. His first several trips on the boat were filled with whining, barking, and crying. He couldn't get comfortable, but he gradually improved. When we first adopted him in September last year, we were determined that he would blend in with our activities. I was wrong that Buddy had to be the one to make adjustments, not us. We've now built our lives regarding whether or not Buddy will like it. We only do it if we think he'll enjoy an activity. So much for Buddy accommodating us.

The wind was light but good enough to sail at a decent pace. The temperature was slightly cool to us thin-blooded South Floridians. Richard was busy at the tiller while I did as I was told with the lines that controlled the sails. Actually, I know which line is loosened and which is tightened based on the direction of tacking, so I've improved my sailing abilities.

We had just arrived in the middle of Biscayne Bay when Richard handed the tiller to me. During this transition, the wind increased slightly. Unbeknownst to me, Buddy was stretched out and relaxing on the stern of the boat. Richard calls this Buddy's 'greyhound pose.' When the wind shifted as we were transferring the tiller, Buddy's meditation time was cut short when he slid into the water. He was without a life jacket. Not good.

Richard, the well-seasoned sailor he is, what to do. He collapsed the jib and used one sail while turning around the boat, all in what seemed like one motion. Meanwhile, Buddy was swimming as hard as he could to reach our vessel. Our eyes were locked together during those moments. I was prepared to jump in the water if he showed signs of disappearing into the sea. Richard knew how to turn around the boat at lightning speed while calmly assuring Buddy that he would be alright.

When you're in crisis mode, everything seems more prolonged, but this all happened within minutes.

As we sailed closer to Buddy, his eyes were about the size of saucers. This little doggy was scared, as was his human Mom. He willingly came into my grasp when I reached over to lift him out of the water. As soon as Buddy was onboard, he coughed up some seawater. He was in good shape physically, but his mental state was questionable. For the rest of the sail, he never left our laps. All three of us were soon wet.

We learned a lot from our mid-April afternoon sail. We can never, ever go sailing again without his life jacket. We also know that if it happens again, he can swim until we rescue him. More importantly, he might have only three usable legs, but he swims like a champion Labrador Retriever.

Oh, and the next day, we were near a sailboat, and he jumped right in...ready for another afternoon sail. We didn't go, though, as he didn't have his life jacket!

4-22-08


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