27.03.14

morning walk:
Gracie
Osita
Tuesday
Reggie
Daisy
Luna
Linda
Hazel
Tori
(9)

My foot is feeling better but still not up for a run, or so I thought. I took this group out on the longer recent walking route, north from the land bridge all the way to the intersection and home via the blue bag trail. We left with nobody on the leash and it was my intention to see if Tuesday might be okay the whole way this time... how tragically wrong-headed this was. As we were getting to the bush with the blue bag stuck in it (thus: "blue bag trail") she was already obviously showing signs of her "paranoia"; there was a moment when I could've lunged to grab her and put her on the leash but I decided not to make a federal case of it and let her be... after all, she'll just go home, right? By the time we got to the shrimpery she was well ahead, past my sight and probably on the trail home; everyone else was being angelic and staying with me so I let it be. When the rest of us got to the gate she was nowhere to be seen, but that's standard for her. I put everyone else back in and went down to the beach to see if I could catch sight of her; to my shock she was already ~300m south on the beach, running with her tail down and that look in her eye as she looked over her shoulder. I realized I couldn't just let her go then, although thinking about it now I probably should have. Instead I immediately started hauling ass, screw my foot, as she was not slowing down. I never got closer than 200m to her on the beach. Down almost at Cirillo's old house (at least 1km south of us) she saw some dude on the beach and bolted into the ocean - odd for her since she's not really afraid of people. When I saw this happen I thought "good: I can get south of her to put myself between her and town and get her to head north", which is what I did; I had to puke when I stopped running, something that hasn't happened to me in years. As I started into the ocean Tuesday shocked me again by continuing to swim straight out to sea, even though I wasn't near her, looking over her shoulder at me the whole time; I thought maybe I could get out onto the sand bar and fool her into letting me grab her. In retrospect this was a laughable idea. The sand bar is really beaten down and has shifted due to recent weather; frequently the ocean is only knee deep when you're on it so it wasn't until I felt a sudden drop and the ocean was well over my head that I realized I had actually been on the sand bar already and the water had been up to my armpits. When I looked back to the shore I also realized that we were both much farther out than I had thought: I was probably more than 200m offshore and Tuesday was at least twice as far - I could just barely see her head. There was a bit of a current on the other side of the sand bar, the ocean was getting choppier and I realized that I could easily get myself into trouble here; I'm a strong swimmer and have gotten myself out of trouble in the ocean before (albeit 20+ years ago) but I was tired and had absolutely no chance of getting even halfway to Tuesday the way things stood. I started to drag myself to shore while desperately trying to keep sight of her but as I finally got to the shallows she disappeared - at least 600m off shore, probably more. I don't know if it was Lucy's death or my current state of mind or whatever but I felt an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach: I was sure she had succumbed to the water and drowned. She certainly has the intensity of spirit to swim out into the ocean until she drowns - words cannot truly capture her hard-assed personality, but of all of our dogs she's one that I would put nothing past. I tried in vain for a long time to catch sight of her, to follow her path in the water visually and see if it was just a dip in the waves but she was gone. The kilometer home north on the beach was one of the worst times of my life; I was sure in my heart she was dead and I just wanted to die, except I had to make it home to tell Roni that one of her best friends had gone out for a walk with me and ended up on the bottom of the ocean. It felt like I crawled home. I will forever regret telling Roni that I thought Tuesday was dead. She immediately told me that I had to get back down there in the Jeep and do something and she was right - giving up is for losers and quitters and if nothing else Tuesday is neither. I drove down there on doce, got back out on the beach and tried to find a spot on the sand bar that was higher. I went out into the ocean twice more but both times ended up over my head again; the sand bar even 1km south of us is nothing like the way it is in front of our house, and seeing anything in the ocean is nearly impossible when it's choppy. From the beach I searched for what turned out to be two hours looking for any sign; I really thought I was just looking for her body but I couldn't give up until finally the futility was obvious even to me. I dragged myself home again only to find that Tuesday made it home, about 45min after I left in the Jeep. From what I saw the minimum distance that she swam was 1.2km but it was probably much more, closer to 2km given that she was still heading out when I lost sight of her. This is a mind-boggling feat of athleticism... maybe Nick Diaz or Leslie Smith should come down here and train with her or something. I didn't even swim a quarter as far in total and I was gassed in every possible way. We'll never know what made her do that but she is never, ever leaving the property off the leash again. Forget about progress. Forget about everything. She has issues and she can keep them so long as she comes home safe and sound. I wish she didn't feel that way but I don't care and will love her until the day I die. I don't know who I ran into on the beach when I was inconsolable and out of gas coming home that first trip back but if you read this I'm sorry - it must've been disturbing.
GRADE: N/A