Maui's Secret Swimming Lesson
Two summers ago, on a comfortable, breezy evening, Nick pulled the van over onto a patch of gravel on the side of a busy road. A car was already parked there. He took the key from the ignition and quickly got out of the van. Maui sat with her ears perked and her nose twitching while Nick helped me from the car. We then made our way toward a path that was barely visible, cutting through the thick foliage of the trees that lined the road.
He held branches out of my way as I slowly bumped along the uneven trail. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to make our way, and we moved with a sense of purpose. Maui followed close behind, her tail swishing side to side. She was excited, happy, adventurous. She did not know the task that lay ahead, the rules she would break and the innocence she would lose that night.
It was not long before we heard the sounds of a woman, her voice cooing and singsongy. She clapped her hands in the distance and spoke to someone who did not respond. For not the first time, I wondered if I was doing the right thing. But I didn't have long to search my conscience, because suddenly the trees ended, and we were at the top of a steep, sandy slope on the edge of a wide lake.
A high-pitched, howling bark pierced the night, and Lola bounded toward us. Maui sprang forward, and the two of them were in their own world, chasing, circling, bowing down, and barking. We said hello to Nick's mom, Sara, who said she thought she had heard us approaching. We exchanged our pleasantries, and then began to discuss our plan.
My field trainer from Paws with a Cause had once told me that service dogs shouldn't be allowed to swim, because they might run toward the water when they see it, potentially pulling a client off balance. This suited me just fine at the time. I was still adjusting to having a dog for the first time, and I still spent my summers at my mom and Scott's house on the lake. The idea of dealing with wet dog had been one of several things that had kept them from getting one of their own over the years.
But the thought of Maui galloping towards the lake, dragging me behind her as I clung to her leash for dear life, was not enough to stop me on that fateful summer evening. Nor was the idea of my enraged mother, pinching her nose and showing us to the door, quite enough to change my mind.
Instead, I thought of Maui when we took her out on the boat to the sandbar. While I relaxed in a lawn chair in the water, Maui paced back and forth, sticking her head over the railing and emitting high-pitched squeals that one usually only hears from parakeets and other small birds. Once, we tried to free her from her misery and put her in the water with me. As soon as Scott set her down, she splashed comically all the way over to me, then stood on her hind legs with her paws on my lap, panting and whining. The only option seemed to be to leave her at home, and neither of us like that very much.
So, with her best interests at heart and with steely determination, we taught Maui to love the water that night. I confess. Like teenagers sneaking out at night, we drove to a different lake where Sara took Lola to play. We threw floaty toys into the water for them to retrieve, and initially, only Lola went after them. Maui stayed on shore, pacing, watching, panting. Occasionally she would pick up a foot and cautiously place it in the water.
But soon, she was comfortable walking through the shallow water, and slowly we coaxed her into going deeper and deeper by throwing the toy a little further each time. She was motivated by Lola, who was a pro-swimmer and who provided necessary competition: Maui really wanted to reach that toy first.
Finally, the moment of truth was upon us. Maui was able to go into the water up to her back, but she still wasn't swimming. She was just walking on the bottom. Nick threw the toy out a little further, just past the point where she could still touch. Maui dashed into the water, but instead of swimming out to the toy when she could no longer reach the bottom, she stopped and stretched out her neck. Her clever move failed, however, when the toy continued drifting further and further away. She didn't know what to do.
We sent Lola in, and as she swam confidently past Maui, Maui found her courage. What happened next is one of my favorite Maui moments: she swam, but not very gracefully. Confused, and probably panicking slightly, she lifted each paw high out of the water and brought it crashing back down in a rhythmic SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH!
Lola reached the toy first, but after that, the playing field was leveled. Maui could keep up now, despite her amateur swimming style. Over time, she realized she did not need to try so hard to stay afloat, and she settled into an elegant doggie paddle. The remaining sunlight slowly disappeared, and we called the dogs out of the water to dry off before we departed.
Ironically, we have not yet tried putting Maui in the water at the sandbar again since her swimming lesson. But while we were on vacation at the Grand Teton National Park, Maui cooled off in the shallow waters of Jenny Lake without hesitation. And, every now and then I catch her stepping into our lake to check things out. But she usually doesn't go in very far.
Unless, of course, she's having a play date with Lola, who has no problem going out to where the water comes past her knees. Curious, Maui follows right along. I got to thinking about this because we watched Lola over the weekend. When Sara dropped her off, she told us she and Nick's dad joke about Lola picking up bad habits if she spends too much time with Maui. "We have to be careful," she said, "Lola might come home knowing how to turn lights on and off or bringing things back to us when we drop them!"
We laughed. "Well, I don't know… Maui does have a bad reputation for stealing toys," I said. Wink, wink.
But as I sat on the porch with Nick and Chelsi Friday evening, watching Lola and Maui race around the backyard, it soon became clear who badly influences whom. I turned my head for just a moment, and when I looked back, there the girls were in the water, up halfway to their backs. Maui was bouncing around, positively delighted. She was probably thinking, "Wow, you're right, Lola! I don't know why I didn't just take a few more steps! This is fantastic!"
We didn't really mind. It was a hot day, so they would have plenty of time to dry off before going inside. I was more concerned about finding them halfway across the lake before I knew it, so I shouted, "Maui, Lola, no!"
Both dogs ignored me. I tried again, but the rebellion was in full swing. So I took the ramp from our deck into the yard and zoomed to the edge of the lake. When I arrived, I yelled a dramatic, "Noooooooo!" in what I hoped was a deep, commanding voice. I startled Maui, who leapt out of the water immediately and stood by my side.
"That's a good g—" Maui suddenly shook ferociously, sending sheets of water all over me. I heard laughter from the peanut gallery on the porch. "Well, thank you," I said, looking into those big brown eyes. Sigh. I made my way back to the deck to avoid a second shower from Lola, who was out of the water now, too.
So maybe the swimming lessons backfired a little bit. I can admit to that. It probably wasn't my best moment as a parent. But I'd rather she not be afraid of the water, so I'm glad I did it. As long as she's not doing laps across the lake, I think she deserves a little water fun. Maybe this summer we can put her in the sandbar again….
Deb took some fantastic photos, which I will be posting as soon as she sends me a copy of the disc. (Nick and I took a few of our own, but they didn't really turn out—the best one is to the right.) After all the photographs were taken, we sat around the dining room table and talked about our babies and how they are similar. We also let them have a play session, which resulted in some of the cutest video footage of Maui we have ever taken!