The Real Grendel and Luka were much more enthusiastic about the whole Dog Paddle than was Mark. Here's a photo of the young gentleman after I finally stopped torturing him and allowed him to take it all in from the safety beneath the lifeguard chair.
At present, he is being neutered. Godspeed, young Mark.
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We just got Lucy swimming for the first time this last weekend. Previous to that, she was at most willing to get her feet wet and then run away like the water might chase her.
For her, seeing other dogs do it made all the difference. That, and me throwing her toy into the lake only to have it retrieved by another, less wussy dog. She didn't like that.
She wasn't much of a swimmer-- more a flailer and a yelper, but she was determined, and it was fun to watch her as she learned. You could practically see the light of the neurons as they fired, the synapses as they paved into new highways.
We're going to try again this weekend if we can. I expect she'll be better at it already. This is my favorite part of owning a dog: watching her think, watching her learn.
May the Good Lord be with little Mark during this tribulation. We felt HORRIBLE the day Grendel got his... I mean, when they... anyway, he had never been allowed on the bed before that day, but when the woozy little feller put his paw up that night, we gave in and cuddled him to sleep. I explained to him that it was a special occasion, but evidently he never understood that, because from then on every day has been a "special occasion." And of course, Luka, the second child, automatically got the same rights off the bat, and now... now the bed is a huge mound of snoring beasts every night.
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