Pot Roast doesn’t like to swim, and on top of the fact that he doesn’t like to swim, as a Bull Terrier he’s very chest heavy, so tends to sink like a proverbial stone. He prefers the ocean, where he can do a slow amble up to the water and go in at his own pace, usually scuttling a rock up and down the shoreline and not going in over his belly. He also loves his baby pool, since he easily overheats. But a trip to Grandma’s house offered the rare treat of some pool time.
That said, he approached the pool with caution, having never seen one before. He circled it ten or fifteen times, sniffed at the water, barked at it a bit, pawed in the liquid and then barked some more. The drama increased when I thought I might float around in the pool myself. Relaxing!, I thought. Just what I need on a hot day! Oh, how wrong I was. He proceeded to bark and panic in the most psychotic manner ever that I worried he was in actual distress. Not being able to rescue me seemed to be more than he could stand. Never mind that I didn’t need rescuing.
So Pot Roast and I launched Operation Pool Float. I puffed the floating air chair up as much as possible, spread a towel over myself to protect my lap, and encouraged all 80 pounds of Bully onto my lap.
To say he was hesitant would be an understatement. He would put a paw on my lap, then retreat. He once tried to launch himself, only to land both of us in the drink and we started the whole process all over again. Once he steadied himself onto my lap, we floated around in the water, both of us finally relaxed. Half an hour passed. We sunned ourselves. We tossed cold water on our bellies. It was a typical dog day afternoon.
Later, convinced he’d be more relaxed with the whole operation, I jumped into the water for a small swim. Pot Roast barked at me until his voice was horse.
Relaxation, it seems, isn’t in the cards.