Page 16 of Footprints in the Sand
It was a perfect scene of an American man and his dog. Dimitra had to fight the urge to take a photograph.
But then, everything about the scene changed.
So excited to be near shore, maybe, the golden retriever leaped off the boat and into the water. The man on board gasped with surprise and nearly lost control of the sails. The golden retriever was doggy-paddling toward the boardwalk, but there was nowhere for him to take hold of, nowhere easy for him to leap onto. He was trapped. Dimitra saw the panic on the dog owner’s face and felt it in her soul. Because she was closest to the dog, she had to do something.
Dimitra threw her ice cream into the trash.
The dog was nearing the wall of a nearby dock, where it looked like he might be pinned between the dock and a sailboat. She could hear him gasping for breath, panting, and nearing exhaustion. What had gotten into this dog’s mind? Weren’t they supposed to be smarter than this? Have instincts? Then again, humans were supposed to have instincts, and they often did things not in their best interest.
Dimitra wished that others had intervened when she’d done stupid stuff in the past. She wished that someone had stopped her before she’d let Kostos go on that fishing expedition too late in the season. “Let him” was a difficult way of putting it, of course. Kostos always did exactly what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it. At least, he once had.
At the corner of the dock and boardwalk, Dimitra could see the dog really struggling, his eyes searching for a way out of the waves. There was no other option but to leap in and guide the dog to safety, or at least hold on to something and keep the dog’snose in the air. “Silly baby,” she said to the dog in Greek. “I’ll help you.”
Dimitra took off her dark blue dress, leaving her in only her underwear and bra. This was probably scandalous to most Americans. But she was a proud Greek woman. Let them gossip as much as they wanted to. They were going to, anyway.
She leaped into the water.
In a moment, she surfaced, making eye contact with the gorgeous golden retriever. He looked overjoyed to see her, like he’d already decided he’d never see a human again. He whimpered as though to ask for help. Dimitra beckoned for him to approach, calling out to him in both Greek and English until he paddled his way to her. Then she strung her arm beneath his belly to support him and held the ladder directly beside her, a ladder that led up to the dock. The dog stopped his frantic paddling but kept splashing every now and again. He was smiling, and his breathing was softer.
“It’s okay, baby,” Dimitra kept saying in Greek. “You’re going to be just fine.”
As she said it, she half imagined she was talking to herself.
She half imagined it was Kostos, telling her that instead.
Suddenly, there was the thudding of feet on the dock, and Dimitra raised her chin to see the sandy-haired owner of the dog gazing down at them, incredulous.
“He’s okay!” she called up to him. “He’s just scared, I think.”
“He’s the dumbest dog I’ve ever owned!” the guy said. “But he’s also my favorite!”
“Funny how that happens,” Dimitra said, smiling wide.
“How can we get him out of there?” the owner asked.
Dimitra shrugged and laughed. “I didn’t think that far ahead, to be honest with you.”
“Ugh. Okay. One second.” The sailor disappeared for a minute or two, leaving Dimitra to say sweet nothings to the dog,a dog she was starting to fall in love with. A dog who jumped blindly into the nothingness and prayed everything would go all right.
The sailor returned with a full-body collar that Dimitra slowly slipped over the dog’s neck and back, looping his legs carefully to secure him. “What’s his name?” she called.
“It’s Cash,” the sailor said.
“Cash the dog!” Dimitra said with a smile.
Now that Cash’s collar was on, they were able to loop a couple of ropes through said collar and gently, gently lift him out of the water. Dimitra remained in the water, holding Cash’s back legs for support until his front ones found the dock and he howled with joy. He licked his owner and whimpered.
“I think he’s saying he’s sorry!” Dimitra said.
The sailor laughed. “Should we use the pulley system for you, too?”
“I think I can manage on my own.” Dimitra used the ladder to pull herself up to the dock, revealing herself to be in only her bra and underwear and soaking wet.
A few tourists on the boardwalk stared at her, but she didn’t care. She picked up her dress and held it loosely over her, not wanting to drench it. She smiled down at the dog.
“I can’t believe you jumped in like that,” the sailor said. He looked mystified. “Where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”
“I’m from Greece.”
