Once More to the Lake

As a Weimaraner, Albright was bred to swim through marshes and retrieve the waterfowls her masters shoot. She has big webbed feet and a keen interest in Chicago's pigeon population, which makes me think she has all the right instincts—until we go to a lake.

Here's how it usually goes:

On Memorial Day, we came across a dog-friendly beach. She ran around, happy-cried, and sniffed other dogs, as I expected. 

But then she got into the lake, starting with her feet in the surf. 

I ran into the waves as a test, and she followed me. I was shocked.

ARE YOU GUYS SEEING THIS DOG? THIS DOG IN THE LAKE? This dog doesn't do lakes. And yet this dog did a lake.

I'm still not convinced I didn't dream it—did I dream it?—but I'm already looking forward to a summer of playing fetch with floaty toys.

Dream or no dream, I know for certain that we trekked up to Waterfront Cafe to celebrate with a pitcher of sangria. Albright got cozy in the sand and kept a close eye on passersby.

I hope your Memorial Day included a miracle of its own, or at least some day drinking.