Walking Belle for at least three miles each day became part of our daily routine. She grew from an energetic, playful puppy to an energetic, playful, eighty-five pound adult. Belle possessed every well-known and beloved characteristic of a Labrador retriever. She would incessantly retrieve any object we could throw at her. She allowed admiring strangers of all ages to pet her. She jumped with joy at the sound of her food being scooped out of its bag and at the sight of anyone at, or near, our front door. She sat in front of us when we needed a hug, beside us to share in our snacking, and kept us warm at night as she lay at our feet. Belle became as treasured a part of our family as any of her human relatives.
When our son Tommy was born a few years later, Belle became a caring and protective big sister. She faithfully sat beside his highchair at mealtime catching falling pieces of food. She used her body to shield him from household dangers. She endured his far from gentle signs of affection. Belle was up with my husband and me on those sleepless nights. Whenever Tommy was upset and cried, she would always come to check to see if he was alright. Like all labs, Belle's emotions were written all over her face and in her soulful eyes. Her concern for him was evident. A definite loving bond had developed between the two. I have read stories about how loyal dogs who loved their family members so much sometimes acted heroically to save them from danger. My story is a bit different. In our case, Belle's love for Tommy saved her life, not his.
Like all labs, Belle loved to swim. When she was a puppy, we trained her to retrieve an orange float toy at the beach. Belle would sit beside us on the shore line, her full attention on the toy we held in our hand. After we threw the toy into the water as far as we could, Belle would run into the ocean on command, dashing fearlessly into the waves. She would paddle to the toy, scoop it into her mouth, pivot, and triumphantly return to shore with the prized possession. She became so well-trained that her obedient retrieving routine would attract the attention of people walking by who often stopped to watch the beauty of her swimming, the one and only activity that would truly maker her tired. In the water, Belle was in lab heaven! She would not want to stop until we dragged her from the water by her leash. Our beach routine was well-established, and we never had a problem with her behavior, not until one day in early June, 2001.
The weather was windy but clear as Belle began her day obediently retrieving her toy. Several family members came to the beach with us that day, and our son Tommy, then thirteen months-old, was sitting with them on shore. I was closer to the waterline, throwing Belle's toy into the water and she was having her usual fun bringing it back to me. For some reason on one unremarkable throw, Belle bolted rapidly into the water as usual, but she could not see where the toy was floating. Whenever this happened in the past she would turn around in the water, her head looking much like a periscope, until she located it. This time, however, she simply turned toward the horizon and began a strong, swift swim out into the open ocean. I called to her, thinking she would certainly turn around, but she did not. I ran in the icy cold water, still calling to her, but she kept swimming away. I walked to the location of the orange float, the water up to my chin, and I held the toy up high so Belle could see it, but she was not looking back.
As desperation and panic filled my heart, alarm also had arisen on shore. Belle was fast becoming a yellow dot on the horizon, swimming out past the buoys. There was no lifeguard because were were on a private stretch of beach. A family member ran to the neighboring beach for help, but the lifeguard there said he could not leave his post. Nobody had a boat and Belle was too far out for anyone to swim to help her. A crowd had gathered on shore, everybody shouting, "Belle! Belle!" I was in the water as far as I could safely swim, calling for her to no avail. The ripples of the water blocked my view and I could not longer see her. I could see only the ocean.
I remember the events of the next few minutes as if they happened in slow motion. Water was splashing in my face and I could hear the wind and the muted voices of those yelling back on shore. I then heard a screaming that I was all too familiar with, that of my son Tommy. He was in the arms of one of my distraught family members. The volume of her voice yelling for Belle and the stress of the situation had scared him so much that he became extremely upset and had begun to wail. As I turned my head to see him and make sure he was alright, I heard somebody yell, "She's coming in! She's coming in!" I turned my head back to the ocean and between the water splashing across my face I saw a yellow dot that became bigger and bigger as it came closer. It was Belle, heading right for me, heading for shore!
She paddled toward me I was ready to take her in my arms and help her. After all, she had been swimming for a while and I prayed that she would make it close enough to me before exhaustion overtook her. Much to my surprise, however, she swam to me and then past me. She was heading for shore. I chased after her, running through the water as quickly as I could, and saw her gallop out of the water and directly to Tommy's side. Other than being annoyed that I would not allow her back in the water that day, Belle was unscathed. She did not even seem fatigued, though her quiet demeanor later in the afternoon convinced me that she knew she had done wrong and was sorry.
When my family heads to the beach now we take many precautions to make sure Belle does not go on any more "joy swims." I have shed tears thinking about what might have happened that day. I count my blessings that Belle is here with us and pray that she will be part of our family for many years to come. I still do not understand why she swam away from me that day, but I do understand why she returned. Something was wrong with Tommy and she had to see if he was going to be alright. If it were not for the love of Belle, she would not be here today. Belle's loyalty to her little brother saved her life...and a big piece of mine as well.
This article was submitted as part of contest to Just Labs Magazine in 2006. It did not win, but was awarded an honorable mention and was available for online viewing.
Belle never went on another "joy swim," but did enjoy many years as a loving member of the Marcello family.
I never get tired of your posts, Deb. Thanks for sharing. :)
ReplyDelete