It had been a rather pleasant afternoon and Butch had thoroughly enjoyed himself, first going out on the dredge on the tug and then chasing rabbits through the sand piles that were growing larger in leaps and bounds, on the beach. Butch had even made his first attempt to walk the pipeline back to the shore, following in the footsteps of my husband. But after a few steps, the dog had slipped off the pipeline and decided to swim back to shore.
Butch was totally covered with silt and sand from the river bottom. Not only that, because the mouth of the Fraser River was partly salt water, he had a sea salt stench and badly needed to have a bath, before we returned to the motel where were staying.
I made a decision to just take a drive and find a body of fresh water, where he could go for a quick swim. I headed out the freeway towards White Rock, and finally found a service road that had a wide ditch running along one side of it. I figured that was probably as good a place as any to let my dog go for a his swim.
However, Butch did not think that it was such a good idea. As a matter of fact, he had no intention whatsoever of going into the water in the ditch. He had been in and out of the water all afternoon. But I could not take him back to the motel all covered with silt, salt and sand. He had to be cleaned up first, ie. get washed somewhere, somehow.
It was starting to get relatively dark. I was not about to take 'no' for an answer from a dog. Finally, just a little bit infuriated with him and his total lack of co-operation, I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and much to his dismay, plopped him right into the water. Butch looked at me with the oddest expression. Obviously, he was not very happy with me or with what I had just done. He started to swim away from me, instead of coming back towards me. What I had not bargained for was the fact that he would swim to the opposite side of the ditch.
As he climbed up on the opposite bank, he stood there, looking at me with his big dark eyes. I waited, expecting him to swim back. I waited and I waited. Nothing happened. It was getting darker and darker. I called him. He would not move. I tossed a stick in the water again and again, hoping that he would go after them as he would have done under normal circumstances. He stood there. I hollered at him. He simply just stayed right there.
I got in the car and started to drive away, thinking that he would follow. He just stood there and yelped. He was starting to shiver. He was obviously cold and he was scared. I had no idea why he was so frightened or what I should do. I tried everything that I knew how to do, to persuade him to swim back to where I had so foolishly put him into the water. He would not move. He was absolutely terrified of something. I just couldn't believe that he was scared of the water or that what I had done was something that would frighten him.
I turned around and looked about, mentally taking a survey of the area where I had parked the car. We were a fair distance from White Rock and the freeway was still a long way away from the service road. Every once in a while, I could hear a vehicle going by and soon the vehicles that were passing on the freeway, were visible by their headlights. There was no traffic at all on the service road. Not even one car or truck came down road where the car was parked.
Evening was falling only too fast, and as it became darker, I knew that if I left, there would be no way that I would find that spot again. I might not even find Butch. What if I left and he decided to run further down the other side of the ditch? I could not just leave some kind of a marker, and expect him to wait there by it, while I went for help. My first instinct had been to go for help, but I was not about to leave my dog there by himself, even if I had to spend the night there with him. I was really not prepared to do that but would have done it if necessary.
Inwardly, I was extremely angry with myself for having been so dumb, as to put him in the water. In retrospect, I realized that I could have just washed him beside the ditch, but of course it was too late for that. In the grayness of the evening, the water had looked fresh enough for him to just go in for a quick swim. The whole problem would have been solved, if he had just gone swimming a moment or two, and then had come back out, as I expected he would.
I looked to the left and the ditch just seemed to continue forever. There was no end to it. In the other direction, it was the same thing. The ditch ran right along the side of the service road. While the water had seemed to be fresh, in my hand, it was actually kind of brownish, probably from the peat moss in the area. Behind the ditch were tall evergreen trees, looming larger and larger, as the evening got darker and darker. The fog was beginning to roll in from the ocean.
The ditch was about twelve to fifteen feet across, where I had put the dog into the water. Most of the ditch appeared to be about the same width. I looked at it, wondering if maybe I should swim across it to get my poor, frightened dog. I did not have the heart to leave Butch. I could not just walk away from him or leave him totally stranded. Pondering what I could do, I went back and sat in the car. I started it up and put on some heat. I could still hear the dog yelping in the background, even with the car running.
Now, it was almost dark and I knew for certain that Butch had absolutely no intention of swimming back across the ditch. I had no choice. I knew that I would have to go to the other side of the ditch and get him. I got out of the car and opened the trunk to see what I might use as rescue apparatus. I didn't really have anything much to use, no lights and not even a bit of rope, but I did find a big green ski jacket that I quickly put on for warmth. I had been wearing jeans, a sweat shirt and runners all day. I must confess, I was pretty grubby and could have used a bath too.
As I tested the temperature of the water again, I knew that it was too cold for me to go in, without wearing something heavier. I knew that if I jumped into that water in just a sweat shirt and jeans, I would be very cold. I had thought that it was the temperature of the water that had shocked and frightened the dog. I made the decision to go and get him, whether the water was cold or not.
I decided to head into the water, wearing the ski jacket and then to take it off, when I got over to the other side. My plan was to wrap it around Butch and to let him warm up and then to swim back with him. I knew that I might have to carry him and I was determined to bring him safely back, whether I actually had to carry him or not.
I kept the car running with the heater turned on. I put the headlights on too, as I knew that if anyone did come down the road and saw an empty car with its headlights on, they would probably stop. No one but no one came down the service road. I was hoping that I might be lucky and maybe my car would be spotted by a police officer, who could then call in and send out an emergency rescue team.
Mustering all of the courage that I had in me, I plunged into the water. I had no idea how deep it was, or what I might encounter. It was cold, but not unnervingly cold for me. I quickly made a decision to head across to the other side of the ditch to where Butch was still standing. He had not moved from the spot where he had climbed up the bank on the other side of the ditch.
As I started to swim, I really began to feel the cold. I am basically a relatively good swimmer, so I was not worried about that. The cold did not frighten me either; nor did the darkness. I knew it was not very far across that ditch, at least not in terms of actual distance. The water was too deep to touch bottom so I did have to swim. As I approached the other side of the ditch and began to feel the bottom of the ditch, I was stunned. I could feel some rotting fence posts in the water. Some of them had fallen over. Tying them together, was barb wire. I realized that what had frightened Butch so much, was the barb wire that was in the ditch. Obviously, at some point in time there had been a fence where the ditch had been dug.
Luckily, I had put on the ski jacket, even though I had wondered whether I should or not. I was a bit concerned about it getting wet and bogging me down, but I figured as a last resort, if I needed to do so, I could always pull it off. (That could have been a challenge!)
As quickly as I could, in spite of its weight, I waded through the last couple of feet of murky brown water, the shallow part, now cast with dark shadows from the trees. I was quite relieved that I had actually managed to get to the other side of the ditch without further incident. As I climbed up the slippery bank, I had my face licked by my extremely grateful dog.
I grabbed Butch as quickly as I could and headed right back into the water, carrying him in my arms. By then, the water had started to really penetrate the ski jacket. He just kept licking my face. The water still felt really cold.
I was very wet. I pulled off my runners and my wet socks to wring them out, as I sat in the car to warm up. My dog, starting to come to life again, shoved the green ski jacket off his back and started to lick himself dry. Every once in a while, he would lick my face again, as if he knew that he had been rescued. It was as if he was saying 'thankyou' in his own way. Finally, I grabbed the sopping wet jacket from the back seat and tossed it into the trunk of the car and headed homeward.
We were still about ten miles or so from the motel. The warmth of the heater felt good. Butch simply fell asleep on the back seat of the car. As I pulled into the motel parking lot, I was hoping against hope that no one would see us. I was warmer by then, but rather bedraggled looking. As luck would have it, the owner of the motel was right by the stairway to my second floor unit.
"See you and your dog have been out for the day!" he hollered, as we got out of the car. "How was your day?" I didn't want to tell him what had happened. "You are all wet!" he said as he looked at me a bit closer. I bent over to put on my runners, as he came closer to pet the dog.
"Have a really great evening," he said as he walked away. I think he was smart enough not to ask me any questions at that time. I was not about to tell him what had happened. "You too," I replied. Little did he know what had transpired. Someday, I decided, but not right now, I will tell the story of how I rescued my dog. Imagine the headlines..."WOMAN RESCUES DOG!"