Page 32 of River Wild

“Oh no!”

I watch for a few seconds … and the dog isn’t swimming.

I thought all dogs could swim?

Apparently not. Because this dog is struggling to keep its head above water.

“Fudging heck! I’m coming, little dude! Hold on!” I move quickly on bare feet, running down my porch steps and onto the grass.

I run across the garden, heading for the fence that separates our houses, right to the spot where I know there’s a gap in the fence.

I saw the broken boards the other day when I was out here, digging up weeds.

Grabbing the boards, I shove them aside and squeeze myself through the tight gap. “I’m almost there, little dude!” I yell to the sound of the panicked barks coming from the pool. “Hold on!”

I race through River’s big garden, through a flower bed—sorry, flowers, but there’s a dog’s life at stake here—and straight for the pool.

The poor dog is now in the middle of the pool, frantically trying to keep afloat.

Almost there.

A few seconds later, I reach the pool, and without another thought, I jump straight in.

Cool water rushes me as I go under.

Sweet Lord, that feels good.

I surface and quickly swim over to the dog.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say in a calming voice as I reach out and take hold of the dog. Hugging it to my chest, I tread water. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

The dog looks up at me with big doe eyes and then licks my face in thanks, I think.

“Well, you are very welcome.” I laugh softly.

“What the fuck are you doing in my pool?” a voice booms, startling me.