Me and the water dog

One of the many benefits of living on a boat is being able to be alone. There is no interference from the janitor; no kid next door playing football in front of my door; and no one playing loud music to me. I love it. Besides, I'm a yacht steward and I'm on the water almost all the time every day, and I love my job, so living in a houseboat is to my liking.

I usually go south in the winter. But that winter, many days of bad weather disrupted my plans, and I had to park my houseboat, the Fillmore, in New Jersey. One night, there was a blizzard. I was complaining about the bad weather while carrying some belongings off the cabin. At this moment, I saw the beagle, wet and shaking. I knew he had been wandering around all summer, begging tourists for scraps.

"What are you doing here?" I opened the hatch. The beagle jumped between my legs into the cabin. "Stop!" The puppy ignored it, went straight to my bed and jumped on it.

"Get out!" I yelled angrily. The little guy didn't care, he rolled himself up on the bed, dried himself on my blanket, and looked at me with a look I can only use the word "grateful" to describe it.

"Come on! Come here, buddy!" I grabbed it, dragged it to the door, opened the hatch, and planned to throw it out. Outside, it was snowing heavily, and the wind swept the goose feather snow and poured it into the cabin.

"It's too cold outside, it's going to freeze," I thought. As soon as he let go, he ran back, leaving a string of wet footprints on the ground.

"No! Don't come to my bed again! Water dog! Go away!" I pointed to the corner where the clutter was placed. To my surprise, it went there obediently with its tail tucked between its tails. "That's about it. You just stay there, I'll always find a chance to throw you out."

I was really looking for an owner for him. I wrote a sign for the puppy and posted it, but no one came to claim it and the weather was getting worse. I couldn't bear to just kick him out. "Okay, water dog." One day, I told him, "You can call it that name, as if it's got you, as if you've got me." I wanted to train him to be a watchdog. But, to my disappointment, whenever anyone approached my houseboat, he timidly shrank into the corner. Then, as soon as the man got on the boat, he rubbed around his legs to please him, and asked him to pat him on the head before he was willing to leave.

At first it seemed impossible to get the water dog off the boat. But then he suddenly had the idea of going out for a walk at dawn. Early in the morning, he kept barking until he woke me up. I got up sleepily from bed and staggered out for a walk with him. At least the fresh air in the morning was good for me - because the water dog smelled even after a bath. I gradually began to like his bad habit. Sometimes, it is too lonely to be alone on the boat. Although I hate to admit it, this puppy with a lot of personality has become one of my companions. At least, it's always a little more fun to have a live animal on board.

But every time I left the water dog out on the boat, I came home to find that it had gnawed on the wood here or there in my houseboat - an unforgivable mistake on a ship made mostly of wood. When I scolded it, it knew it was wrong, and sneaked over, waiting for me to pat it on the head to defuse my anger.

The good thing about water dogs for me is those forced walks every morning, and I started to like them. At dawn, it seemed like the water dogs and I were the only ones awake in the world, and we walked on the sidewalk, waiting to watch the sun slowly rise.

However, I am still waiting for the warm days to come soon, by then, more people will travel, and I believe there will be families who want to adopt water dogs.

However, that day is still far away, it was the coldest winter in New Jersey in my memory. I got two electric heaters and couldn't keep the cabin warm. As a last resort, I had to dig out the old kerosene heater that was no longer in use.

Without proper vents, burning a kerosene heater in my cabin would quickly use up all the oxygen in such a small space. But I don't think that will be a problem, as long as I keep an eye on opening a small window in the cabin when using the kerosene heater.

The kerosene heater makes the houseboat warm as spring. The water dog often circles the kerosene heater, and its stupidity amuses me.

One night in February, it snowed heavily again. The goose feather snow soon covered the ground. This kind of snow is the favorite of the children, and they can have a good time playing snowball fights. When I went to bed, it was still snowing, and the hatch had already accumulated thick snow. The water dog had also fallen asleep in its nest. I patted it and went to sleep by myself, I'm glad my houseboat is so warm.

At night, I was suddenly awakened by a strange noise. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were too heavy to open, and my vision was blurred. I just felt in a trance that the water dog was lying on the floor. I don't know what the stupid dog knocked over, maybe it wanted to go out again? I buried my head under the pillow again, and I didn't want to get up, so I let it bark. I fell asleep for a while, and suddenly my ankles hurt terribly.

I sat up quickly and found the water dog lying motionless at the foot of the bed. I was surprised to see his teeth biting my ankles. The water dog just bit me? I fell down again and again. Why am I sweating? My dizziness was so bad that I could barely breathe. I rolled over and fell out of bed involuntarily. I knelt on the floor, feeling weak and unable to stand up. What's wrong with me? I took my ankles away from the water dog's mouth, I needed air! I had to climb towards the hatch, and it was so hard to move my body, it was like swimming in syrup. I'm going to open the hatch! I crawled past the water dog, his eyes closed and my blood still on the corners of his mouth. I focused all my energy on slamming into the hatch, but the hatch was closed, and I slammed again, exhausted. Finally, the hatch finally opened with the impact of my shoulder, and the cold air rushed into the cabin. I fell headfirst on the snow-covered deck, gulping for fresh air. What happened? Kerosene heater! The houseboat window was blown shut by the wind! Water dog!

I ran down to the cabin and the water dog was still lying there. He was not breathing! God, don't let him die! I prayed in my heart. Drag him out of the cabin and put him on the deck. He lay motionless. I massaged his chest and there was no response. Please, God, don't take him back. I love him. I need him, he saved my life! I went on to give artificial respiration on his chest again, but it didn't work. The water dog is dead! I fell to the snow-covered deck and sobbed. I tried so hard to get rid of it that I didn't realize how much I needed it until now. Water dog! I'm sorry for you!

At first I thought it was a gust of sea breeze, but, no! It was the tongue licking my arm. Water Dog! It wagged its tail weakly. I picked it up, walked to the cabin, and put it on my bed. I bandaged the wound on my ankle and lay down beside Water Dog. I held it tightly in my arms, warming it with my body temperature.

The next morning, I woke up to find my arms still wrapped around the water dog. I smelled its familiar scent, what about it? Kissing my face with a saliva-stained mouth.

The kind, faithful and generous water dog finally made me understand that everything in the world has its reason and right to exist. They share the joys and sorrows of the world with human beings, and treating them well is also treating ourselves well.

Since then, the water dog has been with me day and night and has become my good friend.