Tristan Takes a Tumble

Tristan Takes a Tumble!

One day in early April, the owner of a little Cairn Terrier named Tristan decided to go canoeing on some of the many interconnected lakes on Sauvie Island. It was a mild spring day, the sun was shining, and there was every prospect of a delightful outing. Because it was so early in the season, only the south lakes were open. Tristan's owner decided to take Tristan along.

Tristan, who had always loved to go for rides in the car, was more than willing. When they got to Steelman Lake, they could see the water was so high that it had risen in places above the banks separating one lake from another.

Tristan eagerly jumped into the bow of the canoe, and they got underway. This was great! Tristan wanted to see everything, so he stood up on his hind legs and put his paws on the gunnels. Being so small, and so far forward, he hardly tipped the canoe at all when looking out over the sides and forward to see what there was to be seen.

Great blue herons flapped mightily along, as the canoe silently made its way around one of the many peninsulas on the lake. Not another soul was to be seen as far as the eye could see.

Tristan was astonished as they moved out into the open water. They glided toward another bank, where reeds were sticking up above the water. "What is this?" wondered Tristan. He leaned over to sniff the reeds and to try to figure it out. "Don't fall over," called his owner indulgently, who then glanced away to watch a flock of geese honking in the distance.

When Tristan's owner heard a soft plop, he quickly looked back, but Tristan was nowhere to be seen. Tristan was neither in the boat nor visible anywhere else.

"Tristan!" cried his owner. He peered over the side of the canoe down into the clear water. A couple of feet below the surface, swimming straight upward, was an otter-like head and body, the fur all slicked back. Tristan's owner grabbed the dog by the collar and hauled him, dripping wet, over the side into the canoe.

Looking something like the proverbial drowned rat, or perhaps a bedraggled possum, Tristan seemed crestfallen. The April breeze was cool, and Tristan began to shiver.

His owner thought it was about time for lunch,so they headed for a sunny and grassy place on one of the shores, and beached the canoe. Here Tristan was in his element, as he gleefully scampered about, dodging the large cow pies that were everywhere. "Walks -- that's the thing for me!"

They took a walk along a path. They came to a stile over a cow fence, and Tristan climbed up and proudly gazed around from the new-found heights, prince of all he surveyed.

Dry land was Tristan's element. Indeed, Tristan found himself out on a limb when he tried to explore some exposed tree roots.

Then it was time to head back. "Come on, Tristan!" cried his owner, trying to coax Tristan into the boat. But Tristan ran twenty feet off, whirled around and sat down, facing his owner. His owner darted forward to catch the canny Cairn, but Tristan repeated the same maneuver, ending up twenty feet off again.

"Better change tactics," thought his owner, and went back to his knapsack, where he kept a little baggie of French carrots, Tristan's favorite treat. Holding one up, he called out: "Here's a carrot!" It worked. Tristan ran forward to grab the carrot and was munching away as he was swiftly scooped up by his owner and unceremoniously deposited into the bow of the canoe. Quick as a flash, they cast off.

Tristan anxiously watched the reeds slipping by. He wanted to jump out again, but he didn't dare. Soon, they were out in the open water again. Tristan gazed mournfully back at the diminishing shore and uttered only one tiny, plaintive moan. But there was no help for it.

They glided along, the sun speckling the water ahead of them, the breeze fresh in their faces, as they headed back to the starting place. That night, Tristan was mighty tired, and he slept well indeed.

And the truth of this tale is: "Tread very lightly when out of your natural element, or you'll be treading water!"

To send a message to Tristan, email to: jadams@teleport.com.

Tristan is the proud ownee of Jas. Adams and Diane Rosenbaum, who live in Portland, Oregon.