Poodles were originally bred as water dogs and hunters. Which is why most poodles love the water and are so outstandingly good at fetching. Our miniature poodle Button, loved nothing more than being near water so she could leap in and swim to her heart's content. If we threw a pebble into the water, she would retrieve the very pebble we tossed in without fail. When we went canoeing her mind was focused on the opportunity to leap into the water; she did that once when we were mid-lake and I almost panicked.

She loved water so much that she would often take an inspired running leap to end up in the birdbath in the backyard, so she could happily dabble about in the water there. And we thought that was quite enterprising of her. Until our daughter's German Shepherd-Malamute mix who was Button's friend was  inspired watching her and then emulated her and we wondered that the birdbath could take the weight. Button got slightly crowded out, but they made room for one another.

Riley, in contrast, our little toy poodle who joined our menagerie when Button was seven years old, did all he could to leave space between himself and water. When he was a puppy I once experimented with him by walking out into a lake at thigh-level and just dropping him into the water. He swam effortlessly and with great grace to shore in record time. There was no repeat performance.

But Jackie and Jillie? Forget it. No interest whatever in water. We've tried to introduce them to dabbling in water, but they are completely disinterested, particularly Jillie, who finds it extremely distasteful to even get her feet when with morning dew.  We wouldn't, in any event, allow them even if they enjoyed being in water, to go down into the creek in our forested ravine. When Button was very young she was permitted to wade in the ravine just like all the big dogs that come through do, but because neighbourhood kids take to tossing garbage in the creek, inclusive of beer bottles that break when they smash against rocks which some juvenile delinquents appear to think is fun, she once sustained a very serious cut on one of her legs.

During yesterday's afternoon ravine walk just as we were closing up the loop of the circuit that takes us uphill to the street we live on  and where the last bridge is located over the creek, we came across Charlie. And her companion, a very voluble man who talks non-stop, completely disinterested in anything anyone else might like to add to his one-way conversation. Charlie is a lovable dog, but she is a large and hairy, a very sloppy dog. We do like her quite a lot for her sweet personality. But she, like all the large breeds that come through the ravine, is completely devoted to making her way through the creek whenever the occasion presents itself.

The creek isn't quite as muddy as it was when the construction alongside it was in full sway, but on the other hand, it isn't crystal-clear once any dog gets into it; clouds of detritus and clay rise and occlude it completely particularly when the water is at low level. And Charlie had just been in the creek when we greeted her and she wagged her tail enthusiastically, seeing us. She had no intention of smearing me completely with what she'd picked up in the water, but that was the result when her long, hairy tail, swept over my bare legs.

Bare legs because I was, for a change, wearing shorts. The weather this week has been glorious; warm and sunny and too hot for long pants.  So when we returned home we not only were pressed into action to remove all the nasty little burrs we could find from Jackie and Jillie's haircoats and wash their little footpads, but I did most certainly require some remedial work to remove a bit of a mess on my legs. 

Ah, but it's still summer, and absolutely wonderful!