when atlas was one, we spent an april weekend at a cottage in northern california’s wine country. it was part of a very dog-friendly place called sheep dung estates.

we spent all day saturday hiking in the hills above the cottage so, after dinner, i decided to rest my legs and just walk atlas down to the pond for his evening walk.

there was a couple at the pond, throwing a ball into the water for their black lab. the lab would race down the dock, dive into the pond, retrieve the ball, swim to shore, bring the ball to his people, and then excitedly wait for the next round.

atlas watched this for a while. all of a sudden, he ran down the dock and jumped into the water himself.

no one was more astonished than me.

except atlas.

he came up out of the water sputtering and splashing. his eyes were as wide as saucers. you could tell that whatever he expected, it was very much not. that.

his front legs were as stiff as boards and he slapped them in turn on the water, over and over.

he sputtered and splashed and slapped his legs on the water in a wide-eyed panic until he finally grew closer to shore and was able to get his legs on the ground. at that point, he ran out of the water and shook himself off.

atlas has never really gone in the water since that day. he always stops and turns around once the water gets to his knees. if he ever goes in any further than that, it is a rare occurrence and takes a great deal of time and coaxing.

i remember him watching another dog jumping into a pond after a ball years later. the expression on his face said very clearly, “what a silly dog! why on earth would he go to all that trouble for a ball? you’d never catch me doing that. if people want to throw a ball in the water, they can just fetch it themselves.”