White Trash at Flat Rock

Remember to scroll on down to the first chapter if you need to catch up with the adventures

“Jennifer and I taught a class together a few years ago. And didn’t you tape some of the bike race events for us last year?” I reminded Ken. The Fitchburg Longsjo race has been a major international cycling event for half a century.

 “Oh, of course. Didn’t you have a place downtown for a while?”

 “Yeah, the coffeehouse. We had some excellent performers.”

 “I remember that. My wife Jennifer and I used to go there.”

 We were good to go. Dolly and Bubba soon had regular play dates. Everyone in the group took to Bubba, seeing as he was such an amiable fellow. Most of the time we got together up at Flat Rock, sometimes, if we were feeling adventurous, we’d go on a field trip to a different park. The dogs let us go along for the treats we provided. Besides, we had the car keys.

 Flat Rock is a magical place for dog walking. The reservoir is ringed by piney New England woodlands. The “beach” is accessible through several narrow pathways most of the dogs loved to run down. Many of the dogs were most excellent swimmers, chasing sticks thrown way out into the water from the shore. Some went down to the water more reluctantly, not caring too greatly to get wet.

 It took Dolly awhile before she was willing to put her front paws in the water to get a drink. Bubba was pretty cautious also. As spring turned into summer, the dogs got hotter and thirstier and trips to the water happened more frequently. Kody did the water buffalo, submerging himself to slightly deeper than belly deep and standing still. Star swam around, just a bit. The goldens in the crowd became enthusiastic seals. Two chocolate labs, not yet in touch with their inner water dogs, took swimming lessons with their human father.

 Dolly and Bubba cautiously remained on the outskirts of this but each day became a bit bolder in their water explorations. Soon they were standing in the water up to their elbows. One day Dolly got her belly wet. Big news on the pit bull front.

 “Look,” I said to Peter and Ken, “Bubbs is almost over his head.”

 “Oh, good boy,” Peter encouraged him.

 As we watched, Bubba disappeared under the surface. There was a slight sucking sound as he disappeared a few feet from shore.

 “Oh, my god, oh, my god,” someone said. Maybe it was me or maybe one of the men. Most likely, all of us.

 “BUBBA!”

 I started hitting my pockets, searching for items that could be damaged in water, preparing to use my decades old lifesaving skills. Ken and Peter jumped around frantically, probably checking their pockets for valuables too.

 The two are remarkable similar in body type. Both men are tall and rangy. Peter is a yoga instructor, but absolutely exercise phobic. Ken is a former rugby player with two replaced hips to prove it. They were in their shorts, leashes wrapped around their necks and wearing caps. Neither was usually an excitable type. Except when it came to their dogs.

 “BUBBA! BUBBA!”

To be continued…

Note: Prevent this from happening to your dog. check out http://www.dogtrainersearch.com/blog/2009/12/dog-swimming-teach-your-dog-to-swim/