Long Dog here to tell you how I got to be a sailing dog. When a father and son came into the pet shop where I was living, I knew right away that the kid was my kind of boy. He had that heavenly smell of juicy hamburger on him, and I could see he wasn’t fussy about clean hands or tied shoelaces. He didn’t insult me like those other kids who called me a wiener dog or said that I looked like I didn’t have any legs. Grrrr!
In the beginning, Mr. D’Silvo didn’t like me. His plans were for a bigger dog, one that would be suitable for life on a yacht sailing the seas. But Peter fell in love with me right away. Mr. D’Silvo declared that I’d drown in no time and then Peter would see he needed a different kind of dog. He just didn’t realize how willing I was to learn to swim or do whatever it took to prove myself worthy!
I was nervous over all the rolling and bobbing of the yacht when we first got on, but I got my sea legs almost right away and went on a tour of inspection. A yacht is a great place to live! But it looked like Mr. D’Silvo might be right—I nearly did drown that first time when the surf rolled me over and over then threw me back up onto the beach! I had to resort to unusual means to remain afloat with my long-dog body but I could tell my boy was proud of me. When I rescued a kitten from the water, it wasn’t just Peter that declared I was amazing! I’m dog-gone happy I have a boy and the Doggie Gang for pals.
