It was August. Gibbs, our rescued boy Scottish Terrier had been with us a scant 5 months, but he seemed to be fitting in well. We were happy with him. He seemed happy with us.
Gibbs is quirky. Funny quirky. Among his more amusing idiosyncrasies was how much he loves his water bowl. It’s a big bowl, probably 5 or 6 quarts. He drinks and when he’s finished quaffing, he puts his front paws in the bowl and paddles.
Garry and I though he might have an unfulfilled desire to spend time in water. Most terriers aren’t big on water, but our first Scottie, Mac-a-Dog liked to wallow in shallow water. He couldn’t swim. Too short-legged and long-bodied, but wherever the water was shallow, he liked to cool down on a warm summer’s day.
So I thought we could get Gibbs (Bonnie is not interested in water except as a drink between snakes) a little doggy wading pool. But they turned out to be too expensive and too big. Overkill. Finally, I thought … how about a tub? When my brother and I were toddlers, my mother used to give us tubs of cool water to play in. I have pictures (somewhere) of Matthew and me in our tubs. Chilling in the summer heat. I found a nice tub at a modest price. It looks exactly like the tubs in the pictures from my childhood.
Garry put about three inches of water in it and set it out on the front stoop for Gibbs to discover.
After a couple of weeks, it was obvious he was not going to discover it on his own. Garry decided to introduce Gibbs to the tub. Although he didn’t freak out, he also was obviously expecting, as someone so well stated it, “a follow-up soap event.” He stood there with that patient, put-upon look dogs get when their people are making them do stuff.
Gibbs has never wanted anything to do with the tub, but he still likes to paddle in the water bowl. Another great idea gone awry.