Crossing the Jordan

Sadie is not a water dog. No way.

I've been walking her by the river, where there's plenty of opportunity to splash and swim. Her only foray into the river was a slip and slide, and a massive leap out of it. There's also little streams that Tasha used to dash through, tiny trickles of water that I thought might induce Sadie to dare getting wet. But Sadie either jumps over them, or takes the footbridges.

So I started walking across the street. (We are blessed with huge tracts of conservation land.) There's no river and lots of low-lying land spawns mosquitoes but there is one attraction that I can't resist. The area I call the "stream" walk has a nice stream that eventually crosses under the street and wanders the river, and a lovely footbridge over the stream. I love to sit on the bridge, have a Diet Coke, and do a little work.

Sadie accidentally stepped into the stream and discovered she didn't melt. So, as I sit and read, she putters in the water, allowing it to touch her paws (though nothing more.)

Yesterday I wore old sneakers on the walk. I sat on the bridge, read for awhile, and then decided I wanted to see where the stream went. (Keep in mind--this is New England, lots of trees and dense foliage.)

So I stepped into the stream in my sneakers.

Sadie went nuts. Suddenly she's dashing up and down in the water, running up the banks and leaping at top speed across the stream. It's as if my entry into the water gave her permission to experience its joy.

Hm. Sound familiar?