Stories for Onyx Wesley's Sanctuary

I know how to swim. I've known how to swim basically my entire life. B and I grew up on a lake. When Dad lived at The Pier in Clemson, the lake was right outside. He took us swimming all the time. At least twice a week. Sometimes Dad would swim with us too. Those were especially fun because I could swim over to him, grab onto him, and play. Dad seemed to have some concerns about this. Something about me "drowning" him. I don't really know what he was talking about. Everyone survived. Anyway. I am an experienced swimmer. Then Dad moved us to Denver when I was about two. There was significantly less swimming in Denver. There was significantly less water in general. When Dad did find water, there were usually other dogs and people around. He likes taking us places where we can be by ourselves, and apparently that's harder to do here than it was in Clemson. But that's okay, we have fun other ways now. So for a few years, B and I didn't get to swim very much. Then, sometime around 2023 or 2024, Dad finally took us to a creek. Water. Finally. I ran straight in. I hadn't forgotten anything. I galloped. I splashed. I swam. I ran through the shallow parts and jumped into the deeper parts. It was just like Clemson. Almost. Dad had left our leashes attached because we were in Denver and apparently Denver has rules. He knew we'd probably be fine without them, but he wanted to be able to grab us quickly if another dog showed up. So our leashes floated behind us. Dad kept watching them to make sure they didn't get caught on any branches. The leashes being on ended up being a good thing. Everything was fine. I was near Dad. B was swimming. Then B wasn't fine. She had gone into a deeper part of the creek. She turned around. She started swimming back. But she wasn't coming back. She was paddling. And paddling. And staying in the same place. Current. Dad saw it too. "OH MY GOD, B!" He started looking for a way to get to her. I didn't wait. B needed help. I ran into the water. It got deeper. I kept going. Then I couldn't run anymore. So I swam. Dad started yelling behind me. "YEAH, BUBBY! GET IT!" I knew what I needed. B's leash was floating behind her. I swam toward it. I tried to grab it. Missed. "YOU'RE SO GOOD, BUBBY!" Okay. Again. I opened my mouth. Got it. I turned around. The leash came with me. Which meant B came with me. So I swam. Back through the deep part. Back toward Dad. Back until my feet could touch the bottom again. And B's could too. B was safe. Dad was very excited. Apparently, I had done something impressive. I don't really know why. B needed help. So I helped B. Nobody had to tell me to go into the water. Nobody had to tell me to swim to her. Nobody had ever taught me to grab a leash and pull another dog back to shore. Dad didn't teach me any of that. But he didn't need to. That's my sister. I knew she was scared. I knew she couldn't get back. And I knew there was something attached to her that I could grab. So I grabbed it. For the record, Dad has pointed out that there is something ironic about me saving someone from drowning when I would apparently "almost drown him" in Clemson. Again: Everyone survived. I don't see the issue. Besides, that was playing. This was B. There's a difference. Dad still talks about the day I rescued her. He tells people he didn't teach me how to do it. He tells them he didn't give me a command. He says I can sense when somebody is in distress almost immediately, and I'm there. I don't know about all of that. I just know what happened. B needed help. I went and got her. She's my sister. Of course I did. I got so many pets and kisses in return. Maybe B should almost drown more often.