Ollie (short for Olivia) lives in Saginaw, Michigan with a family who cherishes her. She’s kept slim on a healthy diet and walked daily under her street’s huge shade trees so she can ‘read the news’ with that astute nose. Her wavy auburn-honey coat is brushed ‘til it shines. For years she’s been a seamless part of her humans’ lives, and though the two species are as different as it’s possible to be, they fit together perfectly, connected by mutual respect and love.
Golden retrievers have two passions that help define them. Often, though, the means to enjoy them aren’t possible. Ollie’s hard-working family has had scant time or energy to indulge in frivolity.
One fine day a week ago, though, she was abruptly introduced to a world completely different from the quiet, predictable, in-town life she knows in Saginaw. Her people left their watches behind, packed up her food, bowl and leash, threw their own bulging suitcases and favorite pillows into their cars and hit the road. Three hours later they met up with more family and dear friends at a beautiful rental cottage on Silver Lake, just west of Traverse City.
Cars cluttered the large driveway. Doors banged open and shut as everyone retrieved belongings and piled into the spacious house with the lake near the door.
A mystified Ollie began her lake vacation. It was a revelation.
First, she thoroughly inspected the big interior, sorting out bedrooms and kitchen topography. The air was filled with delighted laughter as ten people settled in. (Including the dog in this adventure had cost more money, but no one could imagine leaving their quiet, well-behaved Ollie behind.)
Then, her busy nose picked up an unusual, yet vaguely familiar scent...Her family opened big sliding doors and invited her outside. Lawn wandered down to a sandy beach warmed by the late morning sun. Wowf!! Water! Everywhere! Incredulous, she put her front paws in the cool lake, then looked up.
Could she…?
Yes, of course!
Thrilled, Ollie threw herself in and swam. And swam. And lapped and lapped the lake as though to drink it all, and swam some more, and poked her head underneath to inspect the bottom sand, and then paddled round and round in huge circles, then up and down the cottage’s generous shoreline. Ages later she staggered out and shook, but, irresistibly lured by liquid-love, plunged back in to swim again. Everyone marveled. Would she ever tire?
Ollie was in Golden heaven.
What was that! Something caught her eye much further out that begged for retrieval! Joyfully she swam into deeper water, grabbed a small bobbing buoy- oh, fetching it felt so fine- and turned to carry it triumphantly home…Ugg! Attached by a long tether to a large cinderblock on the lake bottom (probably to secure a small diving platform), it just wouldn’t cooperate. In fact, she couldn’t move it one inch.
Baffled, she gripped it firmly and pulled harder while paddling furiously, actually rising high in the water from the effort.
No dice.
She dived under to grab it from another angle.
Didn’t help.
Soon, noticing her mounting frustration, her family called, “No, Ollie. Come!” She shot the recalcitrant buoy a firm ‘I’ll be back’ glare and reluctantly swam to shore. Twice more that afternoon she tried to fetch it; twice more her family explained, their word-stream sprinkled with multiple ‘nos.’ Ollie cocked her head, mystified. No? That-‘thing’- perfect for her gentle mouth, kept bobbing nicely and beckoning to her- but then, it wouldn’t budge! Why?
Finally, she grudgingly accepted that its behavior was inexplicable. Sometimes the world worked oddly, just to confuse a sensible, dedicated dog.
Never mind: her family obligingly tossed in objects she could fetch, so that made the beckoning buoy bummer a bit more bearable. Just.
I visited on the second day and watched her paddle out there while furtively glancing back toward shore. She circled that irritating buoy and nudged it delicately with her nose to remind it of her presence. Her mouth remained obediently closed, though. (I could see how hard that was…)
After paddling back and staggering onto the beach Ollie shook vigorously, then immediately waded in again- but this time just chest-deep, to glide effortlessly along on furry tiptoes, loving the incredible lightness of buoyancy. Her coat waved and billowed gracefully atop the calm water.
It was such a kick to drink without lowering one’s head!
I loved witnessing her pleasure in these little joys.
She did occasionally leave the lake to bolt a quick meal, but always hurried out again to swim, or roll luxuriously in the warm, pale sand at water’s edge before falling asleep, belly up.
Ah, what a grand life!
Every evening the clan and a happily exhausted Ollie sat around a beach bonfire and traded stories and jokes while scarfing down treats.
The cottage’s big, nicely appointed pontoon boat offered new adventures. There were inlets and small islands to investigate, and fishermen to hail. After admiring bobbing ducks awhile Ollie would nod off, lulled by the craft’s gentle motion. Occasionally someone would slip a delectable bit of ham under her nose...
The last morning arrived too soon. A little fatter and a lot tanned, with hair and fur peppered with sand, everyone packed up again and drove back to Saginaw to resume their normal lives. That wonderful week, though, will be recalled, and savored, for a long time.
Even better: one nagging failure will be sorted satisfactorily night after night, when she’ll wallow in golden dreams of swimming and retrieving, with the same triumphant theme- and, just perhaps, one variation:
Paddling powerfully out to deeper water Ollie successfully Fetches The Beckoning Buoy every time. Impressed by her prowess and persistence, it always gives up without a fight and goes along quietly.
(Oh, and once in a awhile she digs a decent sand hole and noses it in, just to make a point.)
P.S. Next year her family plans to rent the same cottage. Ollie will probably remember the leash/suitcase kerfluffle, and rejoice!