I will never complain about that wet dog smell. Never, ever. 
Yesterday I took my 2 year old lab, Seamus for a walk on a quiet section of Lake Michigan beach. I brought along a training dummy and a frisbee that I thought I had cleverly concealed in the game pocket of a three-sizes-too-big-for-me training vest, but, I’m not a Lab.

Seamus knew exactly what was going on. He practically did somersaults on the way to the water. I wished that I could be that happy over anything.

I threw the dummy into the shallow water and Seamus went after it, like a bullet. He brought it back, barked at me with a hurry-up bark. I threw it. He took off. So happy to be wet. After five really good retrieves, I figured it was time for a change up. So, I brought out the Frisbee. 

Frisbee toss is a different game than Dummy toss. With the Frisbee, I let him run ahead so that he can catch it. With the training dummy, he has to sit and wait for me to send him. I love to do the Dummy toss whenever other people are around, because he does it really well and I have to say, it makes me look like I know what I’m doing.

I threw the Frisbee. It skimmed the surface. Seamus had to dunk his face into the lake to get it. Good dog! My next throw caught more wind and went further out than I wanted it too, but Seamus was already in the lake, swimming, before the bright red disk hit the water . . . and sunk.

This had happened once before, but on a small pond. I threw a Frisbee and he went in after it, but the thing sunk, which confused the heck out of Seamus. He kept paddling in circles, looking for it, I kept calling him but he was a dog obsessed. I finally had to get into a row boat and drag him back to shore. 

This was Lake Michigan. I had no row boat. Seamus had substituted a flock of Mallards for the missing Frisbee. They were bobbing near the break water. Seamus was fixated on them. 

I stood on the beach. I blew my whistle. I commanded him to heel. I called his name. His black head got smaller and smaller and smaller as he paddled further and further away from the shoreline.  

I kept shouting. Seamus! Heel! Suppertime! I flapped my arms. I jumped up and down.
I looked like I had just won a vacation package worth $135,000 on The Price Is Right.  He kept swimming. Away. Out. Out. Out.

I thought I would never see him again. I thought that either he would wash up somewhere near Summerfest or Lansing. How would I tell the kids? At what point should I give up and go home? Should I call 911? The Coast Guard?

And then, two ducks got spooked. I’m sure they didn’t expect to see a black Lab a mile out on the lake. They took off and flew towards the shore. Seamus turned and spotted me. 

20 minutes had passed. The temperature of the water was . . . well, I guessed that even for a Labrador,bred for the waters off the coast of Newfoundland, it was a tad cold.

Seamus’s pads hit the sandy bottom and he came out onto the beach. He shivvered. I knelt down beside him, rubbed his fur with my jacket. He shook and got me all wet. I didn’t care.

We got back to the car. He jumped in the back. We drove home. I filled my lungs with that delightful wet dog smell.