I taught my dog to swim
It turns out you're not supposed to just toss your dog in deep water to get him to swim. If you have a dog who is skittish around water, as mine is, I don't recommend chucking him into the rolling waves of the Atlantic on his first time around. Just ask the guy whose face he mauled sprinting over it on the way back out of the water.
Anyway, it's taken some doing getting him to go in the water again after that. In the spring one of my friends gently led him on the leash through some slow-moving, ankle deep water so he could get used to it. And he did, and loved to frolic, but I couldn't get him to go where he'd have to paddle.
Last night we were at a dog park with deep water and I kept throwing fetchable stuff into it, trying to get him to swim out and get them, but it just wasn't happening. I waded in deeper and deeper, but he wouldn't follow me. Finally I decided screw it, and picked him up and hauled him out hip-deep with my jeans on, dragging him around like a little kid in swimming lessons. Sure enough, those little toothpick legs started flailing and he was paddling! I let him go and he paddled straight to shore, but I could get him to fetch in deep water after that. I wouldn't say he LOVED it, but I did, and that's the important thing.
Now why this whole thing was so pressing to me that I would soak a pair of clean jeans in river water and traumatize my dog over it, I couldn't tell you. Perhaps yours truly could use a more constructive hobby.
Deciding ankle deep is deep enough.
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Quite traumatizing Hopu or he's gonna run away from you back to me.
This cracks me up. I have tried in vain to teach my dogs to enjoy swimming. I have no idea why it's important to me, either, though I'm certain that I'd be willing to ruin many items of clothing if I thought I could succeed.
A few years ago I bought a kiddie pool for the backyard, thinking I could ease them in. Finny is my fancy red boy, and he would have NOTHING to do with it. At nearly 90 pounds at the time, he was much to resistant for me to overcome.
So I switched my attempts to Lucky, my 40-pounder. I'd splash. I'd sit in it. I'd laugh and call and plead. One day I held her over it and slowly lowered her down. I still have the scars from her nails scratching me as she struggled away.
They would only use the kiddie pool for a periodic drink of water. I ended up with a nice round patch of dead grass, and 2 dogs that STILL refuse to go near the water.