Lothar's Element

Michael walked into the office and said, “Why don’t we take the dogs to the reservoir?”

“What reservoir?”

“Lake Chabot down past San Leandro.”

“Never heard of it,” I said.

“It’s really nice, the doggies will love it.”

“They allow dogs?”

Michael punted. “I don’t see why not.”

I looked dubious.

“Awww c’mon...”

I could almost believe the doggies put him up to it, if only the doggies themselves had ever heard of Lake Chabot.

“Okay... just gimme a minute to finish up here.”

He hurried out of the room to get the dogs, the leashes, the water bowls and everything ready. It’s only been a month and already its “the dogs.” By mere force of happenstance we are all settling into a new pack number.

It was early in the afternoon and warm -- not hot, but warm enough to warrant a good splash about. Since it was a weekday, virtually no one was there and we had the reservoir to ourselves. We parked in the parking lot and headed down to the lake and along the road that curved along the shore, looking for a good beach spot.

About a half mile along, we found a sandy crescent with a gentle slope into the water. Ideal. Michael let Lothar off his leash and the big pup took off into lab heaven. He ran along the edge for a ways and then kaplunged into the water where he swam around and around in circles and curly ques. He just loved being in this soft, cool, enveloping and giving milieu .

Fips looked on. Fips is a special breed of dachshund who likes to swim. But he is circumspect. He has to check out the water first to make sure it’s behaving; and then he needs a target to go fetch .... the big stick. He likes to swim, but it has to be according to protocol. All Lothar needs is water.

Once Lothar settled down a bit we called him out and played the stick game.

After a while I wanted to give Fips a chance to fetch his stick without Lothar’s cooperation, so I told Michael to hold onto him while I threw the stick for Fips. I threw the stick out far -- about seven yards -- and Fips started paddling for it.

He had just gotten it in his jaw and had turned around when Lothar broke loose and bounded into the water like a huge fuzzy projectile.

We both yelled for him to stop, but he all but loped on water to where Fips was and pounced, pushing Fips way under. For a terrible moment I stood there waiting for Fips to come up, as I had visions of his little fuzzy body sinking into the murky ooze.

I waited.

I was just about to jump in the water when ... slowly and gently this little silky brown head bobbed to the surface, coughed up water and looked confused.

Fipsie!

He saw me and started a hesitant paddling motion. It looked like it was going to be okay, but I waded in to grab him at first chance and lead him back to shore, where the poor boy spat out some more water.

Keep Lothar away! I shouted, as I praised Fips, petted him, and made sure he was okay all at once.

I wanted to beat the stuffing out of Lothar, but of course it was nothing he could help; so I grit my teeth, took a deep breath and said to Michael it was probably best if we kept them apart. Michael, who was just as appalled, agreed.

I took Fips down a ways where I got him back into the water so that his memory would over-ride the bad experience. Further on up, Michael played stick with Lothar who ran around crazy on shore, swam around crazy in water and was having the happy time of his labrador life.

At last it came time to go. Lothar bounded up the road still in a state of doggie-joy, while Michael and Fips brought up the rear, padding along leisurely. Everybody dried off, we got into the truck and headed home.

As we got in, Michael and I exchanged a glance. We aren’t getting any takers, but it’s not possible to keep Lothar. He's the sweetest dog imaginable, with not a nasty bone in his body. But he’s too big, too galumphy and, in the end, by imperceptible but ineluctable degrees, Fips will just be crowded aside and beaten down.

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