by Robin Roseau
“Of course, honey,” I told her.
She was quiet for the paddle, and in spite of what she’d said, I remained worried for her. I didn’t have a good feeling. No, I didn’t have a good feeling at all.
We made it to the island. There was a group there, and we were going to paddle on past, but a woman called, “Are you looking for a site?”
“Yes,” Alyssa replied. “But we can find another.”
“We’re moving slow, but we’ll be out of here in an hour. Come have some coffee.”
“We’d love some coffee.”
There were six of them, four men and two women. By the time we made it to the landing, two of the men were there to help us with the canoe. We made it safely to shore, and then Blues moved about, making new friends.
“I can’t believe you canoe with a dog.”
“Neither can I,” I admitted.
“Hey!” Alyssa complained. “She’s a good dog.”
“She’s a perfect dog,” I agreed. “Aren’t you, Blues?”
“Her name is Blues?” a woman asked.
“Yes,” Alyssa said simply. “She’s been through a lot with me.” She knelt down, and Blues came over to her. The two hugged.
“Let me get you that coffee.”
Their coffee was good. More importantly, it was hot. We used our mugs and then hung around while they packed. They were slow, really slow. But it wasn’t because they didn’t know what they were doing. One of the men was just exceedingly meticulous. I think the weather frustrated him, but everything went into the packs quite precisely, in a very particular order. I decided that everyone else must be used to his ways, as while they helped to stage things for him, no one tried to put a single thing into any of the packs.
But eventually everything moved down to the water and made it into the canoes. Blues got a few hugs, and then they were paddling away. Once they were out of hearing, Alyssa began chuckling. “A little obsessive?”
“Certainly particular,” I replied. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I can be careful, but that would drive me insane. But the coffee is good.”
“Quite. Shall we get set up?”
* * * *
It was early afternoon when the sun began peeking through the clouds. Alyssa and I smiled, and then she said, “Will you show me how to find the right cove? Then maybe we can do some fishing.”
“Sure,” I said.
We took our time. Blues, as always, sat calmly, watching the world from her middle seat in the canoe. The trip to the cove was only fifteen minutes, an easy paddle, and Alyssa recognized it as we approached. She gestured with her paddle.
“Right,” I said.
“Don’t take us in. Let’s fish somewhere else.”
“There are fish everywhere. We can work the shoreline, heading back to camp.”
“Perfect.”
We didn’t really talk for a while, but then Alyssa said, “It feels like it will take a week to be fully dry again.”
I laughed. “I think you’re right.”
Alyssa caught our first fish, a small bass. She held it up then looked at me. “A little small?”
“We’ll catch more,” I agreed.
Blues was very interested. I switched to my paddle and steadied us, and then Alyssa let Blues sniff the fish. Then she said, “Blues, stay,” in a commanding tone before releasing the fish back into the water. Blues watched all this, but she didn’t tip us over. Alyssa looked over her shoulder. “Henry and Flapper are bad influences; that’s all.”
I laughed. “Right. If she tips us over here, it’s not the end of the world.” I gestured. Shore wasn’t far. It’s possible to right a canoe in the middle of a lake. If you’re good, you can even get most of the water out. It’s easier with two people.
But getting back into the canoe? That was more difficult. Getting the dog back in would be even harder. I already knew if we tipped over far from shore, I wouldn’t try to empty the canoe. I’d get it tipped right side up, probably three-fourths full of water, then get Blues and Alyssa back inside before climbing in myself. Then we’d bail.
But with shore twenty yards away, it would be much easier to push the canoe to shore and do all of it where I could stand.
Of course, I was much happier not tipping over at all.
I caught the next fish, a modest northern pike. “Blues, stay,” Alyssa said a couple of times. I landed the fish, Blues craning her neck to watch me. “Is that dinner?”
“Sure is,” I decided. “One more would be perfect. Blues likes fish.”
By the time we made it back to our island, Alyssa had caught a second northern, and we’d have fresh fish for dinner.
Later, in our tent, with Blues settled in, Alyssa moved to me. “Janis, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Alyssa,” I said.
She partially climbed atop me in the dark, then she used her fingers to find my face. She caressed before lowering her mouth to mine. We kissed deeply, our bodies pressed together. And then her hand began to wander. “I want you,” she whispered. “Say yes.”
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“Let me do what I want,” she ordered.
“Yes,” I agreed.
And she did. And later, I did what she wanted.
And near our feet, Blues grumbled a little.
* * * *
I woke early. I was on my side, pressed into Alyssa’s back, with my face at the back of her neck. I lay quietly for a while, then whispered, “I love you, Alyssa.”
I think she was half awake. She mumbled something and clutched at my hands. And so we lay together until the call of nature became overbearing.
By the time I got back to the tent, Alyssa was up. Blues had gone with me to see to her own needs and had gone down to the lake for a drink, but she bounded up to Alyssa with a woof, a doggy “good morning, Mom. I love it here.”
Alyssa had the cooking gear out. She greeted the dog then looked up at me. “I don’t know why I try to do this without you.”
I laughed. “It’s not that hard.”
“I want you to start teaching me, but not today. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
“I want to learn everything,” she continued.
“All right. I’ll make a list of what that might mean. We’ll go from there.”
“Thanks,” she said. She gestured and moved away from the cooking gear. I laughed and stepped forward.
“I’m going to…” she made a gesture.
“Right.”
“Come on, Blues,” she said. “Chase the bears and shit away.” Blues gave a woof and chased after her mother.
By the time she got back, I had both stoves going, one for hot cider and one for pancakes, the official BWCA breakfast. Some people try to cook over a fire, but a stove is more reliable, especially after several days of wet weather.
“What a difference a year makes,” Alyssa said, sitting down. Blues dropped a stick at her feet, so she picked it up and threw it.
“I’ll forever be sad at how you came into my life, and forever glad that you have.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s it exactly.”
We made small talk while I cooked. Then we focused on eating for a minute before she looked up at me. “I’m not here to do anything foolish.”
“I know.” Except I didn’t.
“It’s just a little lingering closure,” she said. “You understand.”
“I do.” I wasn’t sure I did.
“I know it’s weird,” she continued. “It’s not like she’s really here.”
Now, that part I could understand, and I told her that. “You have a connection here.”
“Right. Thank you for understanding, Babe.”
“Babe?” I asked. “Seriously?”
She grinned. “Total babe?” She made it a question.
“Much better,” I declared. We both laughed. I gestured. “Taking Blues?”
“Yeah. We’ll be careful.
She’ll be good ballast for the front. I’ll need a little help getting going is all.”
“Sure. What’s your plan if she tips you over?”
“Drown.”
“Not even funny.”
“It’s kind of funny.”
“Not even the tiniest bit.”
“Don’t be a glum face,” she said. “I’ll wear my life jacket.”
“We should have one for Blues.”
“She’d hate it. I can get the canoe right side up.”
“Full of water.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “I’ll strap a spare paddle in place. I’ll collect anything that needs to be collected, and then I’ll push it to shore. I can fix it all from there. Then I’ll come back here and you can tell me you told me so.”
“I’d prefer if you’re right, Alyssa.”
“I know,” she said. “I have a plan. Satisfied?”
She sounded a little put out. I paused then said, “I feel responsible for you. I’m your teacher.”
“Blues and I have been out without you before.”
“Yes, but always near the resort, where I could come get you if you needed me.”
“And were you watching, or is the first you would know I had tipped over was when I walked up, all wet, and hugged you.” I didn’t say anything, and she put on an outraged look. “You were totally spying on us.”
“Maybe I assigned that role to Jenna.”
“Did you?”
“Of course, I did,” I said. “If I wasn’t watching you myself. We might not stare at you or anything, but if you were paying attention, you may have noticed one of us always decided fishing was good, whenever you went paddling with Blues.”
She waved a finger at me. “And how many times have you had to rescue me.”
“Murphy’s Law suggests it’s going to happen sooner or later, and that could be today.”
“We’ll be careful,” she promised. “And I have a plan.”
“All right,” I said. But I would remain worried.
* * * *
She helped me clean up. Then I helped her set out. “We’ll be a couple of hours,” she said from just offshore. She looked upbeat. I tried to hide my nerves; I don’t know how well I did.
I watched as she paddled away, Blues watching me but being a good dog. I watched as long as I could, until they disappeared around a bend in the lake. And then I still stared where they had been for another five minutes before sighing. “Please be careful, Alyssa,” I whispered. “Blues, be a good dog.”
I had little to do, and I wasn’t accustomed. I straightened up camp a little then pulled out my fishing gear. I found a place I could fish while watching for them to come back. I was pretty half-hearted about it, although I caught a few small bass. I threw them back.
It was well after noon, and long, long after I had become a wreck, when a canoe appeared. I noticed immediately. At a distance, canoes aren’t terribly distinctive. But how often do you see a dog riding along in a canoe in the Boundary Waters?
I began hyperventilating in my relief and was on the edge of all out sobbing, which I barely contained. And I would have watched them the entire time they approached.
If that wasn't the cast that landed lunch for us.
Bringing in a three-pound northern held my attention for a minute or two, and by the time I had it, Alyssa was close. “Nice one!” she yelled to me. “I’m starving!”
“I’ll get started on it,” I yelled back with a wave. I trudged back into the camp and set to cleaning the fish. Alyssa had to circle our little island to the preferred landing, and so I was halfway done when I heard a screech. “Blues! No!” Then there was a scream and a pair of splashes. I dropped the knife and began running, coming to a stop in time to see Blues swimming for me and Alyssa pop out of the water. “Janis!” she yelled. “Help!”
I helped, if by “helped” I can mean “laughed”.
Blues made it to shore and ran to me before shaking off. “Blues,” I admonished her, still laughing. “I think you tipped your Mommy over.”
She pushed her nose into my crotch for a moment and then headed into camp to check out the fish. “Leave it!” I told her. Then I turned back to watch Alyssa.
“Are you going to come out here and help me?” she said. “Or are you just going to laugh?”
“Laughing sounds good,” I said. “Your paddle is floating away.” I pointed to it.
“Maybe you should come get it.”
“I need to protect our lunch from the hungry beast,” I said, glancing at Blues. She was sniffing around, and the fish looked unmolested, discounting how I’d already treated it. I turned back to Alyssa. “You said you had a plan. Now you get a chance to execute.”
“You suck,” she said. But she swam after her paddle. Then she returned to the canoe and tipped it right side up. Of course, it was quite full of water, but she got behind it and pushed it towards shore, swimming slowly. Finally, when it was close enough, I snagged it and said, “Help me tip it again.” We got it drained, and I pulled it onto shore then tipped it over again so it could drip. When I turned, Alyssa was stalking me with her wet arms held wide.
“Try it,” I said. But then I saw her expression. I wasn’t positive, as a dunk in the lake destroyed a good share of the evidence, but I was sure she’d been crying. And I’d nearly done my own crying. I took three steps and threw myself into her arms.
“I was teasing,” she whispered. But that didn’t stop her from holding me tightly.
“Are you all right?” I whispered back.
“Yeah,” she said. “I had a good cry or three. Blues! Leave it!”
I turned to look. Blues was back sniffing at the fish. So I took Alyssa’s hand and led her up the hill to camp.
* * * *
By the time Alyssa was in dry clothes, her wet ones hanging from the line, the fish was cooking. Blues was in a down, watching me intently. I decided she was probably as hungry as we were, and there was more than enough fish.
Alyssa plunked down in a camp stool. “I’m only going to say this once. You were right.”
I laughed. “If it was going to happen, I’m glad it was right there.”
“And you weren’t in the canoe this time.”
“That, too,” I admitted. “She’s a good dog, but things like that are going to happen. The only time it really scares me is when I’m not there to take care of you, or we’re in the middle of a large lake.”
“Stupid dog doesn’t even care,” Alyssa complained.
“She’s not a stupid dog.”
“No, she’s not.” She leaned down and ruffled the wet dog, then brushed the fur off against her pant leg.
I nodded and poked at the fish, then asked in a soft tone, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Some,” she said. “I don’t believe in an afterlife or anything, but I think part of me does, too.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I just…” She trailed off. “I just wanted to talk to her about a few things.”
“I used to do that with my mom,” I said. “And now sometimes with Grams.”
“Your grandpa or father?”
“No, not really. I never had a relationship with my father. I’m not sure why I never really tried talking to Grandpa. I guess I still had Grams, so when I needed a grandparent, I could talk to her.”
“That makes sense.” She set her hand on my knee. “Were you worried.”
I suddenly couldn’t talk, but I nodded then poked at the fish. Alyssa didn’t say anything right away, and it wasn’t until we were eating, Blues, too, that she said, “We didn’t talk about this part.”
“Which part is that?”
“The how long are we staying here part.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Could we leave after lunch?”
“We could,” I said. I lifted my head and judged the breeze. “We should make Blues swim.”
“We’re not making Blues swim! That’s just mean.�
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I laughed.
“Seriously,” she said. “Is it too windy?”
“We’ll be fine,” I decided. “We might stay to the west side a little rather than take a direct line, but we have time, unless you think you want to try to get home. That might be rough.”
“Let’s just go as long as it feels good,” she said. “We can finish tomorrow.”
“All right then.”
A half hour later we were on our way.
That night, in our tent, Alyssa was quiet but very, very loving.
Small Box
Jenna and Melanie, her mother, were standing on the dock watching us as we approached. I brought us to a stop a hundred yards from shore and eyed the dog. “Blues,” I ordered. “Down.”
The dog eyed me but then slowly went from a sit to a down.
“If you tip us over, dog,” I said. “No more fish. I mean it.”
From in front, Alyssa chuckled. But I got us moving towards shore again. Jenna and Melanie watched us for a minute then moved to the beach. Blues stayed where she was until the boat touched sand and Jenna had hold of the front. Then, without permission, she sat up and jumped out, rocking the canoe terribly, but between Jenna on the front and my paddle irreverently braced against the sandy lake bottom, we avoided tipping over. Barely.
Jenna laughed. Melanie knelt down and greeted the dog. “Where are Henry and Flapper?” I asked.
“I put them inside,” Jenna said. “They’re going nuts.” She lifted her voice. “Mom, do you want to let them out?”
“Sure,” she said.
Soon, we had three dogs chasing each other. Jenna, Alyssa, and I hauled the gear to the boat house. Then, as I began to unpack, Alyssa pulled Jenna to the side. The two communed for a minute. There was a hug and a grin, a huge, huge grin from Jenna.
It took a few minutes before I could pull Jenna aside myself. “What was that about?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The grin when you talked to Alyssa.”
“She told me Blues wasn’t perfect.”
I laughed. “No, but I got to laugh about it this time.”