The unseasonably warm day begged me to open windows and banish the winter staleness from our old farmhouse. The March breeze still had a bite so the whole family bundled up to enjoy the weather. Looking forward to nestling against crisp fresh-smelling cotton, I washed sheets and pillowcases ready to hang on the line. My husband John headed for the barn to do chores.

Scott and Matt looking for puddles.

Our two young sons, Scott and Matthew, equipped with tall rubber boots and splash pants were wandering up and down the long driveway sloshing and squishing through the spring-thaw puddles. The flooded front fields and yard created a tantalizing playground of small rippling lakes and muddy rivers. Our dog Jack waded near them searching for scent trails. Not quite a year old he looked mature with a strong broad back, muscular legs and a thick wavy coat that hinted at Chesapeake Bay Retriever in his mixed ancestry. True to the breed, Jack didn’t seem to mind ice-cold water at all.

Matt and Scott meet Jack for the first time

I was pinning the last pillowcase on the line when Matthew ran up to me, gasping for breath and yelling, “Mom! Mom! Mom!”

I whirled to face him, my stomach tight, “What’s wrong?”

“Scott’s stuck!” spinning, he ran back to his big brother as fast as he could.

My racing heart eased and I couldn’t help giggling at Matthew’s intensity. He was saving his big brother and taking his role very seriously. I followed the youngster’s trail around the side of the house to check out the situation. About half way between the house and the gravel road, a forlorn figure stood almost knee deep in the flooded west field, arms outstretched like a tightrope walker. I hurried inside and suited up for the rescue mission.

Jack joined me for the jog down the driveway. He revelled in pouncing through the water while I pondered how to avoid an accidental polar swim. Reaching a promising spot close to my mired son, I left the stability of the driveway to start my muddy trek.

I could see the relief on Scott’s face, “Mom! My boots are stuck!”

Spring thaw flooding covers part of the front yard and the east front field.

I reached his side giving him a smile and a squeeze as I bent to grasp his nearest boot. Muddy clay held that boot with an iron grip while water, the colour of chocolate, lapped close to the brim. Scott could pull his foot free but the boot felt like it was in solid cement. I changed my stance for better leverage and pulled hard, side to side, front to back, straight up. At last we heard a sucking noise as the mud loosened its grip and we all cheered! I reached across Scott to get at the second boot and worked it back and forth, side to side until it released. We both straightened and hugged each other, ready to slog our way back towards Matthew and the driveway, but I couldn’t move my feet. All that pulling and tugging had anchored my boots deep into the mud. What kind of clay was this?! I lifted a foot out of my boot and pretended to cry dramatically. Matthew giggled that contagious giggle of his.

Knowing that I couldn’t move my feet made me feel off-balance. I wanted something to steady myself on – a walking stick maybe or a tree or … a dog! I looked at Jack standing with Matthew on the driveway, enjoying a good ear scratch from the youngster.

“Jack! Come here boy!” I beckoned with my hand, slapping my leg and smiling.

Without hesitation he bounded towards us, tail wagging, mouth grinning, muddy water splashing high in the air with each leap. Oh no, he thinks I want to play! Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea!

“No! No Jack!” He stopped and the water smoothed. The poor dog probably thought I was angry at him now. I continued with a soothing tone trying to calm his puppy mind, “OK, OK. Good boy, easy, that’s good….easy boy. What a good dog.”

The water was fairly deep for Jack. His underbelly was in the icy water but he didn’t waver. He walked up beside me and stood solid and still as if he were a seasoned rescue dog. With Jack’s broad back for support on my left and Scott using my coattail to keep his teetering balance on my right, I bent down to loosen my left boot then stepped, my right boot then stepped. Reaching back I loosened Scott’s left boot – he took a step – then I loosened his right boot – another step. Whenever I felt off-balance I put a little extra weight on Jack while continuing with my task. He never avoided the weight, never tried to leave as I relied on him more and more.

Spring thaw flooding

Tedious progress but it worked – loosen a boot, step, loosen a boot, step. Moving the thirty feet back to the driveway seemed to take forever but with my hand resting on Jack’s solid table-like back I felt balanced and in control. He waded with us one step at a time, planting his feet solidly beside mine, waiting until we were ready to move again, and enjoying the praise and continuous pats of affection.

Finally we emerged. Matthew bounced around us cheering, clapping and laughing. Scott displayed his muddy boots while he talked and laughed. I straightened and clapped along with Matthew in celebration. Jack felt the release of my hand and the excitement in the air so he planted all four feet and shook with amazing vigour. I saw it coming and the scene switched to slow motion in my mind. His head started the movement with ears slapping, the baggy puppy skin on his back began flinging side to side faster and faster, his back legs splayed out to keep his balance as the momentum sped up yet again and even travelled down the length of his overly long tail. When he finished showering us with muddy water, his damp fur stood up in fashionable spikes.

Our jubilant celebration transformed into a rowdy game of tag with Jack chasing, leaping and barking while we dripped with mud, laughed and splashed. He entertained us with his comical puppy antics, but now I knew better. He was growing up and becoming more than a family playmate. Jack had earned my trust and I could see that our little adventure had given him new confidence and a sense of purpose.