"Come on, Schoep! You can do this!" John cheered on, standing beside his dog as he attempted to paddle in the lake behind his house. He barely noticed the water soaking his clothes - up to the collar of his shirt - his attention so focused on the dog.
His heart rose, as the dog did not cease in his paddling, going on a straight path - until, he began to sink, and his heart almost stopped. He was immediately beside Schoep, a hand on his belly to keep him afloat, the other on his back. He could feel the dog's legs kicking softly underwater.
"C'mon, Schoep," he told him, but he knew the dog was growing tired.
Sighing, he shifted to stand in front of him. He wrapped one arm around him, the other still on his belly, while Schoep placed his head on the crook of his neck, tongue hanging out and panting, as they stayed still.
Long enough for the water to calm.
Long enough for the silence of the surrounding woods to engulf them.
And long enough for Schoep to fall asleep on his shoulder.
John closed his eyes, letting himself fall into this tranquillity. He breathed out a defeated sigh. He wasn't sure why Schoep failed to learn to swim - such a natural activity for dogs in general - but he was certain of one thing. You're awful at this, Schoep.