Sea Dog (3 page)

Yip
!

The
yip
was weak, but my ears were good. I knew it did not come from
Lady Tia.

It came from the sea. I studied the tangled seaweed. I looked at the driftwood. Some pieces were as small
as a twig. Some were as big as a tree. One piece was wide and flat. It floated low in the water. Long brown kelp and thin green eelgrass covered it. The seaweed moved ever so slightly.

“Aha!” I cried. “Now, aren't you a smart little pup?”

I turned
Lady Tia
into the wind. She stopped dead in the water. The flat chunk of driftwood floated closer.

I leaned over the side.

I leaned over so far my fingers touched the water. I leaned so far I almost fell overboard.

The driftwood bumped against
Lady Tia's
shiny white hull. It bobbed up and down. It drifted close to my hands. “A-ha!” I scooped it out of the water.

It was a huge clump of dripping wet seaweed. I laid it on deck and lifted handfuls of seaweed. I tossed the seaweed overboard. Underneath was a wide flat board. On the board was a very tiny, very wet puppy.

The puppy's eyes were closed tight. The tip of her little pink tongue hung out from her mouth. The puppy didn't move.

“Oh, Puppy,” I said. “I am so sorry. I should never have left you alone. I should never have let you fall overboard.”

Very gently I picked up the puppy. I put her on my lap and rubbed her tummy. Water trickled from her mouth. She shivered.

This was a good sign and a bad sign. It meant the pup was still alive, but she was very cold. I needed to warm her quickly. So I took off my wool sweater. I rubbed the pup all over. Then I tucked her inside my shirt. She snuggled against my stomach.

“Ugh!” I said to the cold wet pup. “You are as cold as the sea.”

I was cold too. So I put on my damp wool sweater. I turned
Lady Tia
around.

“Please live,” I whispered to the pup. “I'll take you home and warm you up.” The pup snuggled close, wet and cold and shivering.

As soon as I tied up
Lady Tia,
I started along the dock. With both hands I clutched that cold little lump against my stomach. “We're almost back to my car,” I whispered. “I'll turn on the heater, and you'll soon be warm.”

A woman on the dock gave me a strange look. “Hey, Cap'n Bill,” she said. “Why are you talking to your stomach?”

“I need to hurry home,” I told her.

I walked across the parking lot. My sweater was wet. I smelled like seaweed.

“We're here,” I whispered.

A man in the parking lot gave me a strange look. “Hey, Cap'n Bill,” he said. “Why is your stomach moving?”

“I need to hurry home,” I told him.

On the way home that little wet bundle lay very still. “Please live,” I whispered. “I promise to take good care of you.”

At home I lifted my sweater. I untucked my shirt. I pulled out a little black bundle.

The pup shivered.

I phoned the vet. She told me what to do.

I laid the pup on a hot water bottle. I wrapped warm towels around her. I held her on my lap. Then I heard a strange sound. “Is that your rumbly tummy?”

I warmed some milk, but she wouldn't drink. Then I had an idea.

I carried the pup to the house next door. A big family lives there.

“Hi, Bill,” the mother said.

“Do you have a baby bottle?” I asked.

“What a cute little pup!” she said. “Does it have a name?”

I thought for a minute. “I think I'll call her Otter. Because she ought-ter have drowned.”

Otter liked the baby bottle. She sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed. She drank all the milk. Then she yawned and went to sleep.

That night Otter curled up on my bed. She slept under my blanket. Warm and safe.

For two days Otter slept most of the time. On the third day she woke up bursting with energy. She wrestled with my hand. She chewed on my fingers with her little puppy teeth. She ran around in circles. Round and round and round.

The next day I took her to the beach.

Otter ran straight for the water. She splashed into the cold sea. She started to swim away. “Otter!” I called. “Come back here!”

Otter turned around. She swam and ducked underwater. At last she swam back to shore. I scooped her up. “Otter is a good name for you,” I said. “You swim like an otter.”

Otter grew. She drank milk and grew plump.

She ate puppy food and grew bigger. Every time I took her to the beach she went swimming.

One day we went to a pet store. I bought a bright orange life jacket. Then I bought a cardboard sign and a black felt pen.

I carried Otter along the dock.
Lady Tia
bobbed gently at her mooring. I stepped aboard. I tied one end of a rope to Otter's life jacket. I tied the other end to a cleat on
Lady Tia's
deck. “That will keep you safe,” I said. I sat the chubby puppy on a seat.

I picked up the sign. I wrote my phone number on it. I taped the sign to
Lady Tia's
window. The sign said: For Sale.

A sea wind ruffled my hair. The smell of salt water tickled my nostrils. My heart felt heavy. I would miss
Lady Tia.
I looked at the seat where Otter ought-ter be. My heart did a flip-flop. She was gone!

“Otter!” I cried. Then I remembered the rope. It snaked along the seat. It climbed up to the deck above the cabin. It trailed across the deck to the mast.

A tiny black tail, no bigger than my finger, poked out behind the mast. It wagged as fast as a hummingbird's wing.

I climbed up to the mast. I looked down at the pup. Her little black nose pointed toward the sea. Salty wind blew her ears back. Her mouth opened in a puppy-smile. Her little body shook with excitement.

“So you want to go sailing, do you, Otter?” I asked. “Well, I guess it won't hurt. We'll take
Lady Tia
on one last sail. But mind you don't fall overboard. If you do, you'll never get near a boat again.”

Otter sat on the seat. She watched me untie the boat. She watched
Lady Tia
slide through the gap. Her little pink tongue hung out. She watched the sails go up. Her head twisted to one side.

Wind filled the sails.
Lady Tia
heeled to one side. Water gurgled behind her stern.
Lady Tia
pranced into the waves.

A warm little body snuggled up beside me. Otter
sat up straight, her nose pointed into the wind. I patted the top of her head. Her tail wagged.

“You're a real little sea dog,” I said.

Soft sea spray touched my cheeks. Green and white waves tumbled over one another. I smiled as we headed out to sea.

That evening the wind dropped to a gentle breeze. The waves smoothed into a rippled sea. I steered
Lady Tia
toward the harbor.

Otter watched me light my pipe. Her head turned to one side. She watched me clutch it between my teeth. Her little pink tongue hung out.

She jumped to the floor. She sniffed at a stick of driftwood. It had been there since I pulled Otter from the sea. She picked up the stick. She climbed back up to the seat. She sat close beside me.

Otter chewed on her stick. I puffed on my pipe.
Lady Tia
sailed gently with the wind.

When we got back to the marina I took the For Sale sign down.

All summer long Otter grew. All summer long we sailed together.

In fall the days grew shorter. The winds blew stronger. Still we sailed together. Still Otter grew.

Winter came, and it was too cold to sail. I had
Lady Tia
hauled from the water. I covered her with tarps. They would protect her from winter storms.

I stood in my yard and looked at
Lady Tia
. “We will sail you again in spring,” I said.

I walked to my back door. Otter walked beside me. I puffed on my pipe. Otter carried her stick.

I put down my pipe on the porch. Otter put down her stick. We went inside the warm house.

“Next spring I will be Cap'n Bill again,” I said. “But now I am just plain Bill.”

Every day Otter and I went for a walk. Sometimes we walked along a beach. Sometimes we walked through the woods. Wherever we went, I took my pipe. Otter always carried a stick. The bigger she grew, the bigger the stick.

Even when rain pounded down from thick dark clouds... Even when strong cold winds stormed across the sea... Even when waves crashed against the shore... Even on those days, Otter wanted to swim. She always dropped her stick at my feet.

“It's too cold to swim today,” I always said. I walked past the stick. Otter picked it up. She ran ahead of me. She dropped it at my feet again. She looked up and barked.

I laughed and tossed the stick into the water. Otter bounded after it. Her black head bobbed on the waves. Sometimes she disappeared. Then I saw her again. She rolled to the top of a wave.

One day a big black seal heard Otter bark. It swam up close. It lifted high in the water. Its big round eyes stared at this strange animal. This animal chased a stick instead of a fish.

The seal followed Otter toward shore. It blinked and watched this strange animal. This animal ran from the water. It had long thin legs instead of flippers.

Otter ran to drop the stick at my feet. She shook her thick black coat. Cold water sprayed all over me.

“Go away!” I shouted. “That's freezing!”

Otter picked up her stick and ran along the beach.

Spring came again. The days grew longer. The wind that stirred the sea grew warmer.

Otter sat in the yard. She watched me scrape and paint and polish. She chewed on her stick and wagged her tail. Soon we would be sailing again.