The next day started like most boat days. Dad and I were hard at work doing boat jobs.
We were working on the outboard motor on the dinghy. That is the engine that runs our tiny boat. When we are living on the hook, that means when we are anchored, that is how we get to shore. The dinghy is like our car. It gets us from the boat to the land. We depend on it like most people depend on their car. So having an engine that works at its best is super important.
Dad was doing stuff to the engine and I was supervising. This is one of my top skills. I am a perfectly capable mechanic, but supervising is where my extreme talent truly lives. Dad changed the oil and did a good job. I approved of his technique.
Next, we tightened some bolts and made adjustments to our sail gear and deck lashings that had shifted during our last trip. We keep several items secured to the deck, like jerry cans with extra fuel, emergency water, our water toys, and the life raft. A good sailor always does a post-trip survey of his boat to make sure everything is ship-shape. Ship-shape. Hehehehe.
It was also laundry day. We have a washer on board, but when we are docked we use the one at the marina. Dad packed up the laundry and we went to the marina office and bought a token. I go everywhere with my dad, and this was no exception.
Dad calls me his velcro dog. Mom calls me Dad’s personal stalker.
The laundry room is only a few minutes from the boat, located right behind the little store. We started two loads and went back to the boat. Dad has a big cloth bag he carries the dirty laundry in and a different one for the clean stuff. He is a very organized guy.
Mom, meanwhile, sat on the boat typing on her computer from morning until dinner. Sometimes I help her with that too. I attend a lot of her meetings because she needs my moral support. I nod off during the boring parts, but the important thing is that I am there. I am a good boy who helps whenever I can.
Dad and I went to move the laundry to the dryer, and before we could even finish waxing the boat, it was time to go get the clothes again. Then Mom yelled SUNDOWNER, and we knew it was time to wrap it up. Sailors know that when sundown approaches, it is time to grab a beverage and prepare to watch the sun go down.
Dad got drinks for him and Mom, and we all headed up top to the front of the boat. We didn’t have a lot of room in the cockpit, so we sat up front most evenings to watch the sun and relax. The marina was a beautiful place, and according to Mom, the sunrises and sunsets were AMAZING. Mom overuses that word. A lot.
I ran up front first. I had to make sure it was all clear for my people. Then Mom came up, and Dad followed with the drinks. Sister was last, plodding along with that happy, goofy look she always has. She was headed straight toward us when her back leg went over the edge of the boat and through the safety lines. She wobbled. She lost her balance. Her whole back end went over. It all happened in slow motion. She slid off the boat and into the water.
We all ran to the side. Mom gasped. Dad yelled. I barked. Sister plunged.
The water was about ten feet deep. She went straight down and then bopped right back up. When she surfaced, her face was filled with panic. There was no way to reach her from the side of the boat. It was too far down, and even the ladder couldn’t bridge the gap. And even if it could, no one can lift a struggling, soaking wet hundred-plus-pound Sugar straight up out of the water. The dinghy was up on the boat and not in the water, so no help there.
Dad sprang into action. He started calling to Sister to follow him, and she listened and swam toward his voice. We were at the deepest end of the dock, far from shore. He called her around to the other side of the boat, and that is when he figured out how to help. When she got near the dock, Sister grabbed onto one of the pilings and would not let go. Dad had to convince her to keep swimming. Finally, she did. After five minutes that felt like forever, Dad got Sister to swim toward a small fishing boat docked farther down the marina. He jumped on the boat, Sister swam up to the stern, he pulled her on board, and then lifted her up to the dock.
Sister was saved. Wet and stinky, but saved.
She looked scared and confused. Mom grabbed a towel and started drying her off, saying oh my poor Sugar over and over. I was barking and bouncing, celebrating my sister’s excellent and completely unplanned swimming prowess. Then, just as if nothing had ever happened, Sister jumped up and asked me if I wanted to play.
So I let her chase me down the dock. Obviously.
We missed the sunset. But that was okay. We would catch tomorrow’s. Because everyone was safe, and when everyone is safe, that is always enough.
Karl out.