Every newborn puppy is a storybook waiting to be opened and read by an appreciative person.

In 1968, my first golden, Duffy, was eight months old when dove season opened. Early that month I took him to a small farm pond for his inaugural hunt. Duffy had no idea what we were doing, so when I shot a dove, he was looking at me, not the dove. It fell about 20 yards out in the water, but he didn’t see it. No problem, I thought, I’ll just throw something out there by the dove and send him.

I tossed a little stick, which landed quite close to the dove, and I sent Duffy. Predictably, although it surprised me at the time, he retrieved the stick instead of the dove! So I tossed a little dirt clod and sent him again. Since the dirt clod sank, Duffy had no choice but to retrieve the dove, his first wild bird.

The lesson here, of course, is that if you have to toss something to show your puppy where a bird fell in the water, toss something that sinks.

Water Introductions
Over the years I’ve introduced many puppies to water. The process is simple and sure, if you don’t get impatient. You lead, rather than force, the puppy every step of the way. First you wade around in shallow water, encouraging the puppy to wade behind you. Then you gradually lead him into deeper water that requires him to swim a little. And so on.

Back in the 1970s, our five kids helped me introduce litters of puppies to water in a slightly different way. When the pups were four weeks old and well socialized (as only five puppy-loving kids can socialize them!), we’d take the entire litter to a lake every day. Each of us would take a puppy, carry him out into the lake some distance, lower him into the water, and while still supporting his belly, move him along forward, as if he were swimming. Almost immediately the puppy would start paddling with all four feet.

After a few such experiences, we could stop supporting his belly and let him swim on his own. Next we took the entire litter to a wade-able pond. Leaving the puppies on shore, all six of us humans would wade across. Mob-psychology soon had all the puppies swimming along behind us. Back and forth we’d go. By the time those puppies went to their new homes, they were swimming remarkably well.

In 1985 I bought my never-boring Chesapeake, Beaver. As soon as he and I were buddies, I took him to a pond to introduce him to water in the standard manner. I parked near shore, let him out of his crate, closed the crate door, and slipped my sneakers on. When I looked around for Beaver, he wasn’t anywhere near the truck. In fact, he was already swimming in the pond, heading toward a dead tree in the middle.

He was swimming smoothly, too, not beating the water. When he reached the tree, he grabbed a limb and tried to “retrieve” it. After a short “tree tussle,” I called him back to me.

“Well,” I thought as he swam back, “I guess I’ll have to skip a few steps in this pup’s water introduction. Too bad, for on a hot day like this, I was looking forward to cooling off in the water.”