Dog Fish

Lucy froze when she caught a glimpse of something in the Tidal Basin this morning. "I saw that, too!" Heidi told her as we resumed our walk.

"What was it?" I asked.

"A really big fish!" Heidi answered.

"Remember that time..." I started.

"With Isabel?" Heidi finished.

"Of course!" I said, and we both laughed.

Back when we were new dog owners, and our first dog was only a puppy, we used to take her down to Jones' Point on the Potomac River in Old Town Alexandria. There was a little sandy shore there, and the spot was used as an informal dog beach. Isabel was new to swimming, and we tossed a tennis ball in the water to motivate her to paddle out and get it. But she was new to fetching, too, so often our tennis balls floated away or had to be collected by other, more water-competent dogs. 

Those dogs' owners were generally very nice and encouraging, though. "She's still young!" one woman assured us, even as her own dog literally swam circles around Isabel, retrieving the tennis balls that she would not. 

The three of us stood on the bank watching our dogs, hers swimming out and back, ours standing chest-deep about 10 feet from the shore. Just then, Isabel ducked her whole head under the water and came up with an enormous fish flopping from either side of her mouth. 

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then we started waving at her. "Drop it! Drop it!" 

She opened her mouth and the fish splashed into the river and swam away.

"Wow," said the other woman. "My dog doesn't do that!"