The Most Unfortunate Dog Pile

I watched the kids dive in the water off the dock for almost an hour. And the big black old shepherd-border collie cross had a great time jumping in after them.

Koda (short for Killer Old Dog Attacker) loves the water, especially the splash created by the swimmers. From my vantage point, it appeared as though the dog was jumping beside the divers when they left the dock. So eventually, I thought I’d invite Koda to jump in beside me.

I called him over and jumped in. As the water closed over my head, so did something else: a 70-pound dog. Bingo! Right on my wet noggin landed pooch and almost immediately I felt the pain.

But something funny happened as I stumbled my way out of the water. Koda was busy watching the other swimmers but when he saw me leaving the lake, he came over for a few seconds to check me out. It was as though he wanted to make sure I was OK.

The nine-hour trip home from our friends’ cottage was a long one as I felt every bump and swerve in the road. I had a mild case of whiplash following a car accident years ago; that is what this felt like.

Today, however, neck and feelings are on the mend. I am, however, haunted by all the laughter the sight of a dog jumping on my head created in the other cottagers, including three members of my own family.

Nevertheless, I am considering a lawsuit against the dog but my family says it was all my fault. Koda wasn’t jumping in beside the divers but right on them. The only reason they got away unharmed was they were diving in and swimming away quickly and not jumping in and staying in one place, as I did.

I disagree and will say so in my affidavit. I might also sue the other cottagers for not providing me with the information I could have used before I went swimming with the dog.

My bucket list isn’t a long and complicated one. A couple of entries involve a movie star, a Rolls Royce and a credit card with no limit. But nowhere on there is listed having my head jumped on by a dog in a lake.

©2017 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.