This morning Brett and I were down at the barn doing our chores. The dogs were running around, building up an appetite for breakfast, sticking their noses in squirrel holes, and playing in the puddles. It was raining and cold; not freezing, but a chilly 45 degrees with a steady rain. Brett was in the barn leaving a message for the vet. Flash got a scrape on his face a few days ago that almost, but not quite, looked like a puncture wound. We've been cleaning it with Betadine and watching it. This morning it was kind of oozy and swollen and almost felt like there was something inside -- maybe a piece of stick that broke off -- who knows. He doesn't have a temperature and it isn't tender but we wanted to check in with our vet anyway. Of course, she isn't working this weekend and the vet that is taking call didn't want to make the drive up here. So, we're continuing on with washing, watching and waiting.
But, I digress. Brett was in the barn on the phone and I was in the middle of Kalvin's paddock, with my head down, mucking. I'm not sure if I heard a splash over the pinging rain on the metal roof of Kalvin's run-in shed, but for some reason I looked up and glanced down to the pond. The pond is a huge water trough for the horses at the bottom of the pasture. It's about 10 feet across and a good 3 feet deep. There are no baby seals that inhabit our pond but that's what it looked like. There was a blond head swimming around and it looked just like a seal. It took a minute for my brain to register that it was Kersey. We've taken her out back to the pool a few times and she plays on the top step, batting at leaves. Once or twice she's fallen (or been pushed) off the top step and she swims back but it's a panicky thing for her. So, I yelled up to the barn and prepared to sprint down and save our precious puppy. Before I could take a step, she nonchalantly jumped out, shook, and trotted off with a doggy grin on her face. We've never had a lab before so this is quite different. We are used to dogs who tolerate rain and puddles - not ones that jump in the pond in December and go swimming.