Dog Scratch Fever

German Shorthaired Pointers are supposed to be able to swim. They are bird dogs, but they should also be able to accompany a duck hunter for retrieval purposes; they even have webbed feet for this very purpose.

Weber, however, has never really taken to the water.


It could be the result of a childhood trauma. In the first week of her life with us, we were still living at OBU and each morning and evening I would take her on a walk around campus. We would sprint the intramural fields, run the stairs of Raley chapel, and mosey around The Oval in an attempt to wear out that little puppy's energy.


One evening as we walked between Raley Chapel and the GC, I stopped by the fountain to introduce Weber to water (other than the water in her bowl, of course!). At its lowest level, this particular fountain is very low to the ground. I planned to just stand next to it and allow Weber to get used to the sound and sight of running water.


Well in her short time on the Oklahoma Baptist campus, Weber must have already heard the story of Jesus walking on water, for she decided to test her faith. That lil thing just stepped straight out onto the water as though it were just a continuation of the sidewalk!


She went straight under, the water coming all the way up to her little neck, and I could just see the panic on her sweet face. I scooped her out of the water and spent the rest of the evening cuddling my little wet puppy in a beach towel...

So perhaps she is scarred for life. Ever since, she has been scared of swimming. Sure, she'll hop in the pond with the other dogs at the dog park, chase the water hose, and lay in a kiddie pool with the best of 'em.

But she won't swim.

The second her paws can no longer touch the bottom, you can literally see the shock come over her face, and the girl turns tail and moves back to shore!

So this summer, it has been my goal to teach this dog how to swim. Now that Jonathan wants to start taking her duck hunting, the skill is essential. My plan? To get in the water myself, in hopes that she would want to join me or--worst case scenario--think I'm drowning and come to the rescue. As a last resort, I planned to just throw her in the water and let her figure it out. Sink or swim.

Two days ago, we went to a friends' apartment under cover of dark for our swimming lessons to begin. I hopped in and swam a few laps, hoping that Weber would just bound in after me and make the whole thing unnecessary. But my hopes were too high.

She just stood there at the edge of the pool. Staring at me. No excitment. No concern. No interest.

So I took it a step further. Jonathan brought her to the stair side of the shallow end and we tried to coax her in step-by-step.

Every single muscle of her 55 pound frame tensed completely, and that girl might as well have been a stone statue on the side of the pool! She was NOT going to budge.

Last resort.

Jonathan picks her up, gives her the old heave-ho, and throws her in. I reach out to hold her underbelly to give her just a bit of security, and that's when it happened.

The girl climbed me like a tree!

And now I have perfect 4-pronged claw marks to prove it.

She did manage to swim, but she sure didn't like it, and I don't know that we'll be getting her to do it again any time soon. I know dogs don't hold grudges, but I am not exaggerating when I tell you that she wouldn't so much as look at us for at least 20 minutes after we left the pool.

Not. Happy.

And now my scratches have turned to bruises. So if you see me any time soon, rest assured that I am in a perfectly healthy, non-abusive relationship with my husband.

Though I'm not sure Weber and I can say the same.