June 1, 2020

Scooter’s report:

Okay, look. In this past week not only did I have to accept a new harness (granted, I’ve grown, and this one fits nicely, and doesn’t press on my Broad shoulders), but I also had to meet a Trainer through Zoom because my human parents can’t convince me that I shouldn’t fiercely, rudely, aggressively have-at-it toward dogs I do not know, who walk on roads and trails that I have designated as property of Scooter Sublime of Heron’s Key. The trainer, Ann, is obviously well qualified, and quite nice, but it would help if she kept her Border Collie, Chai, out of the picture next time we meet. Granted, he’s beautiful; admittedly, he’s got the obedience and style stuff down pat while I’ve got brilliance and panache. I had a moment to demonstrate those qualities when I was asked to respond to a new command, “Touch.” In record time I saw what was required, fulfilled the request after being asked only twice, and drew the trainer’s admiration away from the teacher’s pet. It wasn’t hard to do.

However, to the point. Today I joined my human parents aboard our boat, PineAweigh, for a brief cruise, my first, into Dyes Inlet, past a home on Rocky Point where they once lived, and into the Inlet’s broad expanse where once some years ago a pod of Orcas fed on salmon.

Here’s what you need to know. I like the boat. I’ve mastered climbing aboard by ascending stainless steel steps paralleling the transom and delivering me to the cockpit. I’ve conquered three steps from cockpit down into the salon where I was instructed to stick to the sofa and chairs, and not stand on the dining table. The wide step from salon to galley? Child’s-play. I hesitated but then took two giant steps from galley down to a short hallway delivering me to the forepeak where (really, how hard is that) without a bit of hesitation I jumped onto the lower bunk and settled in for a snooze.

Here’s what you might not know unless you are a boater yourself. When a boat’s bow (I’m learning terms) cuts through water, water responds by breaking into a run along side the hull, undulating and foaming like a mad dog, and inviting my attention. I was ready to go after it but that inclination was discouraged by parents who, now that I think of it, are the ones who introduced me to yet another of today’s new experiences. I was required to wear a personal floatation device; a jacket of sorts, designed to keep me safe while boating (I’m sure I can swim. I haven’t yet, but I’m sure I can). Really, after raincoats, winter felt coats, halters and collars, toothbrushes and toenail clippers, combs and brushes for my thick furry coat, what’s one more imposition? I will cooperate with nearly anything deemed essential to being included in the company of my family. However. I haven’t given up on bad behavior toward dogs I don’t know, and while I gave it a one-paw-try before withdrawing from the attempt, I won’t walk down the stainless transom stairs.