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4 hours ago
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Before the outbreak of the pandemic, when my partner and I had started going for regular swims in the sea, I was heading out from the shore one day when I was overtaken by a dog. It was a Labrador, and it paid no attention to me as it swam past, seemingly intent on visiting the Isle of Man.
Though not a dog lover, I was concerned about its welfare and when another swimmer came up from behind me, a human this time, I shared my concern. That dog, I said, pointing my nose towards the horizon, is going very far out. “Ah yeah,” the man replied, casually; “That’s Arthur. I hope he doesn’t meet a seal.”
Later, back on shore, I learned why the man hoped Arthur would not encounter a seal. There was a match on TV that afternoon (it was mid-morning) and if Arthur found a seal to play with, the man, whose dog it was, would be in danger of missing the kick-off. When he met a buddy to play with, Arthur, it seemed, could stay in the water for quite some time.
Some months later I had the good fortune of seeing Arthur and a seal playing together. They faced one another, the ends of their similarly shaped snouts a few feet apart, then swam forward, like two jousters heading towards each other in a developing gallop.
Just as they were about to clash snouts, the seal would disappear below the surface, and Arthur would find his snout facing nothing but salty air. A quick turn would reveal to Arthur that the seal was now behind him, and that they were both already in position, snout towards snout, ready for another go. They looked like two good friends having the craic.
When the pandemic arrived, and sea swimming was put on pause, our household added a pup to our number - Lenny the lockdown Labrador. We would take him to a local park for a gathering of newly minted dog owners, who would stand in a circle and watch their pups tumble over one another.
One or two families had sheepdog-type mutts, and it was noticeable how these stayed away from the other pups, keeping a wary eye. Whenever a few pups ran off together in pursuit of a thrown ball, the sheepdogs would run after them and shepherd them back towards the humans. It is extraordinary the way we all do what we’re bred to do.
One day, sitting having coffee outside a local café while Lenny upended other people’s tables in pursuit of crumbs of fallen pastry, a stranger with a better raised member of the same breed stopped for a chat.
He was of the view that Labradors benefited from regular visits to the sea because they were bred in Newfoundland to help fishermen retrieve their nets from the water. (Interestingly, the Labrador Sea, off the coast of Newfoundland, was not just a great breeding ground for cod but also for seals.) Encouraged by what the stranger had said, I began to sometimes bring Lenny for a swim.
Although swimming with him has its charms, it is not an entirely relaxing experience. He seems to have an irrepressible urge to shepherd his owner back to shore, so, when we enter the water, I swim as fast as I can, to keep ahead of him.
This works for a bit, then I get tired, and he overtakes me and starts to press me to turn. He does this much like a sheepdog with an errant sheep, circling around in front of me and nudging me to turn.
He cares nothing, then or later, if he scratches me with his sharp claws when doing so. So I fight to keep him at bay, which involves a lot of convulsions and noises and indignity, and much churning of water.
Once I’ve turned, however, the situation calms, and he focuses on leading the way back to safety. Off he goes, turning only occasionally to make sure I’m still following, and I am allowed at last to swim at my own chosen speed. Have some me time.
When Lenny reaches shore, he shakes himself off and sits at the edge of the wash, looking out to sea with an expression on his face that suggests a parent worried about the wisdom of their decision to have let their young charge off the leash.
A relationship with a dog can be a constant tussle about who is the master, but I don’t let this adoption by him of the senior role bother me too much. When at sea, ceding a little ground to a Labrador feels appropriate.
