Some say a dog is a man’s best friend. The companionship, the adoration and the love from a dog is like no other. However, when your dog is a puppy, this friendship is often tested.
This past summer, for reasons unfathomable, we took our six-month-old Golden Retriever puppy, Suki, with us on our first trip to Desolation Sound, an area we dreamed about visiting for years since we started sailing.
We had three weeks off in the summer, a sea-worthy vessel, and two kids who have been boating since they were babies. Desolation and its warm waters beckoned, and seemed like the perfect destination for our family. Planning started, as all boat plans do, over the cool fall evenings, as days get shorter and dreams grow bigger. For Christmas, my husband and I gave each other cruising guides to Desolation and the Discovery Coast. We synchronized our vacation schedules with boating friends. We arranged a house sitter and scheduled the kids’ summer camp around our sailing plans. We were truly going—it was all coming together.
That is until Suki came into our lives. She has the face of an angel, and like all Golden Retrievers, is friendly, sweet and gentle. Her chocolate brown eyes can soften the meanest of hearts, and her fur coat begs for caresses and pets. To know her is to love her. To spend 24 long days in the confined space of a boat with her is to almost loathe her. To quote Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “When she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid.”
We left Point Roberts early on a Friday morning, to make the most of the flood tide. Pundits claim it is bad luck to leave on a Friday, have a woman aboard, or to whistle on a boat. I say that you are making your own bad luck by having a mischievous puppy on your vessel.
One thing we didn’t take into account was how quickly Suki was growing. During our planning, Suki was still a manageable size to have in a cramped galley and saloon, but by the time we embarked on the trip she was much taller. She could now easily steal food from a table, out of the galley, and in one particularly daring move, from the rail-mounted barbecue. Nothing was safe from our large hungry dog. Not our breakfast or morning coffee, not our lunch, nor our dinner and wine. She had a taste for anything and everything. Alcoholic, caffeinated, raw? She wasn’t picky. Creative solutions were needed, but the easiest solution was to eat quickly, with the dog in her kennel staring sadly at us with mournful famished eyes. This was the first time in our history of boating that I came back weighing less than when we left, and this I can attribute to the ravenous dog’s stealth.
There was a collection of mild annoyances. Every day she would knock over her water dish, creating a puddle in the middle of the saloon. She would help anchor, usually by dropping sailing gloves in the water or trying to grab the walkie-talkies we use to communicate. Dog hair tumbleweeds floated gently on the teak floor, and the settee was always damp, despite efforts to keep her off the furniture. Sleeping in was out of the question—at the break of dawn we would either wake to the pitiful sounds of a lonely whining puppy in her cage, or alternatively, we would have a 60 pound dog bounce into our berth, ball in mouth and eager to play. Her tail also became a weapon, sweeping toys, games, books and tools to the floor with one mighty wag. And a wet dog, particularly an enthusiastic wet dog, loves nothing better than to shake herself dry while maximizing the amount of water that lands on other people.
One classic Golden Retriever personality trait is extreme friendliness, and Suki is no exception. They just want to love and be loved by everyone, all the time. It didn’t even matter if her new friends were on the same island, you could almost see Suki’s thought bubble, “They are only a short swim away on that little island, and surely they need to pet me!” It was the same story at the dock at Refuge Cove, in the bays of Prideaux Haven, and on the oyster beds of Grace Harbour—if there was any person within 500 metres, they found themselves at the mercy of an exuberant canine companion. Often with a short, wild woman running far behind, yelling “Suki! Come back here you crazed mutt!”
To captain Dan, however, she could do no wrong. “Look how smart she is,” he would say convincingly, “she even knows to pee on the deck. However, I’m at the helm right now, so would you mind washing it up?” The sun rose and set on Dan’s canine companion. Until two dunkings in three days made him change his tune.
The extra food Suki had pilfered helped her gain about 10 pounds on our journey. By the time we were at Pendrell Sound, she weighed at least 65 pounds. She would jump into the dinghy from the stern of the boat, but we could no longer just lift her back on board. We devised a technique to tie the dinghy at the side of the boat where it is lowest, while she put her front paws on the boat (scratching the gel coat in the process), and we would stand up and push her back end up and into the cockpit. It wasn’t pretty, and it required a lot of muscle and patience, but it worked.
We spent our last day with friends swimming, laughing and enjoying the boating life. The water was warm and the sun was shining. The following morning, the captain took Suki to shore for a last bathroom break and run while I waited in the cockpit with a steaming cup of coffee, taking a last look at the majestic mountains surrounding the bay.
The dinghy came along side of the boat, so Suki could jump aboard. She knew the routine and put her paws on the side of the boat while Dan started to push her aboard. However, a crucial step had been forgotten—the dinghy wasn’t tied off! The force of Suki and Dan pushing the dog into the boat was pushing the dinghy away from the boat. The gap between the dinghy and the boat widened, and Dan had to let go of the dog, who fell into the water with an undignified plop, while he desperately held onto the boat to try to keep his balance. As the dinghy slowly edged toward the stern, Dan started to resemble a slow-moving slinky toy, stretching with his hands on the toe rail and his feet in the moving dinghy, all the while trying unsuccessfully to regain his balance. He also fell in the water while I battled with the opposing forces inside of me—should I laugh, should I help, or should I curse the silly dog who caused this ruckus. As usual, the third option prevailed.
Luckily, the long trip to Hornby Island allowed plenty of time for the captain’s clothes to dry, and for me to stop giggling. Tribune Bay exceeded our expectations, and we played on the white sand beach, enjoyed the market in town, and stayed one extra night. It would be a long haul home, leaving early in the morning, but Tribune Bay was worth it.
With this in mind, Dan got up early to take the dog to do her business. I had one coffee, and then another, when finally a wet dog with soaking, angry captain appeared. Apparently Suki sensed she would be underway for many hours, and had decided to make the most of her shore time. She fully embraced her puppy nature, ignored any commands from the captain, and ran, swam and played to her hearts content. Unfortunately, it was an incoming tide, and by the time Dan finally had Suki in hand, the dinghy was floating far out from shore. Not to be thwarted, Dan grabbed Suki by the collar and forced her to swim to the dinghy while he waded and then swam himself to the tender. It was difficult getting into the inflatable with his soaked sneakers, jeans and jacket, and the warm water didn’t cool off his temper. By the time they reached the mothership, Dan was cursing enough to do any sailor proud, and swore that this was the last time Suki was sailing with us.
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Many people boat successfully with their pets. Perhaps it wasn’t the best plan to have a hungry, hyper puppy with us for three weeks. She was a rascal, caused some damage, and added to my grey hair. But on the other hand, she made us laugh and is part of our family. She is quietly sitting beside me as I type this, so perhaps she has calmed down now that she’s past her first birthday. We are planning on another visit to Desolation Sound this upcoming summer, and this year our preparations may include an invitation to the dog-whisperer and waterproof clothes.