Truman Makes a Splash

Lots of splashes, actually, and mostly with his front paws. But we'll get to that in a moment.

It's been a busier than originally planned holiday weekend, and my big dreams of catching up on my dog blogging have been thwarted once again. So, my apologies to those of you who check in here daily, hoping for more glimpses into the world of Truman and the exhausted humans in his life. I have photos and stories in the wings that date back to late June, believe it or not, and my anal-retentive (or maybe OCD? should we take a vote?) personality is vexed that I've been unable to keep things in chronological order for you. Okay, for me.

But please know that I have much, much more on the way, and that I will be entirely caught up by the end of this month, because Truman and I have a quarterly sponsor report due...the contents of which come primarily from this blog. So, accountability strikes again! Hang in there with me, won't you?

Meanwhile, enjoy this story from our Lab(rad)or Day Weekend festivities....

A group of puppy raisers got together for a pool party on Sunday. Perfect day for it here in the middle of our Southern California heat wave, which brought temperatures in the hottest parts of town up to 113 degrees (118 with the heat index). I didn't officially count the dogs in attendance, but the number could safely be estimated at around a dozen (46 with the enthusiasm index).

By the time we arrived, there were too many off-leash and in-the-water dogs to be able to gently introduce Truman to the steps in the shallow end of the swimming pool, so I just let him fly. And fly he did, only to discover that his landing spot was not, in fact, solid ground. Surprise!

Not that he was traumatized. There were plenty of people in the pool to help him out of the water, and after a few minutes of some land-based hijinx with toys and other dogs, he worked up the fortitude to try it again. And again, and again.

Though he is a brilliant and coordinated dog on dry land, Truman's seafaring aptitude leaves something to be desired. He eventually got to the point where he would leap enthusiastically into the water (or onto my head if I misjudged the distance) when I stood in the pool and called him, but his swimming skills could use some work. Truman attempted to navigate his aquatic environment by paddling furiously...with his front legs. Was he trying to climb out? To build his upper body strength? To splash the rest of us? In any case, it rendered him vertical, and required someone lifting his hiney (by grabbing hold of his prodigious and stretchy skin, as he has yet to properly grow into his Truman Suit) in order to get him moving in the right direction. Add to that his repeated attempts at biting the water droplets he was splashing up, and you'll understand why I'm disappointed that I was in the water at that point and not on land with a video camera. He would head toward the steps, where all the other dogs were exiting, and either try to climb out next to the steps without their assistance, or he would get to the steps, put his front legs on land and hang out (sometimes chewing on a toy) as if that were the point of being in the pool in the first place.

Truman did, however, immediately take to use of the raft in the middle of the pool, leaping upon the unsuspecting (and much too near the pool edge) Yasmin as she lay face down in short-lived relaxation. Epcot joined them, in a bid to claim the territory for the yellow Lab populace. Truman enjoyed many return visits to the floating paradise throughout the afternoon, to wrestle with his brother Tai, to play "Tugboat Truman" in towing Katie to shore, and -- as shown here -- to snuggle with Yasmin, "Queen of Yellow Dog Island."



When he wasn't actually in the water, he was finding a way to make his mark. Whether it's leaping sideways over another dog, licking up spilled drinks, zipping like wet lightning through a barely open door into the house, or leaving a "gingerbread trail" of squishy, chlorine-water-inspired dog droppings on the pavement next to the pool, Truman always leaves his wacky calling card. That's my boy.