We had only twenty or thirty feet to go to reach the barge with all our worldly goods on deck and tugboat snuggled along-side. Our 70 ft mobile home, Dodge pickup truck and a six month hoard of canned and frozen food and other sundry household supplies and items had been loaded onto the barge, along with logging camp equipment, machinery and vehicles. The superintendant for the Seley Logging Camp was carrying my two-year-old son, Joshua, up ahead of me. Behind me followed my dear old friend, Tootie, who was a tiny, all white, 8 year old Chihuahua. It was late, the tide was going out. Tootie did not see the opening created between the dock and the barge. She fell through the open space and plunged into the icy cold waters far below. I thought I heard something, was it a splash when Tootie hit the water? I looked behind me and saw that she was gone. I then looked over the side for her, down into the darkness. I could just barely make out a tiny white dot, and lo! It appeared the tiny white dot was moving! I screamed out, “Oh God, my dog fell into the water!” Then there was---silence. The next sound was a bigger splash after I jumped over the side. Feet first, I plunged into the deep, icy cold ocean. My knee high rubber boots (called Ketchikan Sneakers by some) immediately filled with water. I kept sinking down and down and down. I began to think the downward momentum would never stop. Finally, I did slow to a stop and began an upward struggle, hampered by my water-logged “sneakers” and heavy winter clothing. “Would I never get back to the top?” When I did surface, there was my Tootie, about 5 feet from me. I called her name and she began a wide turn, dog paddling to me. I imagined her eyes were huge and frantic in the darkness. Her breath sounded raspy and irregular. Her little heart beat fast as a humming bird’s wings. She was shivering in the icy, cold waters, completely exhausted. When she came within arms reach, I was able to support her small body, keeping her afloat as I swam with one arm toward the shore and safety. About half-way there, I heard a low, male voice waft out of the darkness up above me, “Tex, are you going to make it?” Then someone else said, “I would not have jumped into that water to save my wife! And another voice said, “Whatever was she thinking!” The deckhand rushed us down into the living quarters of the ship where Tootie and I were required to stay in the hot, running water of a shower for 30 minutes or longer to warm us up and ward off the debilitating affects of hyperthermia. The tugboat with the barge attached and being pulled along behind was underway when Tootie and I were allowed to go up to the wheel house where I found Joshua sound asleep and without a care in the world. The Skipper had made a small pallet on the dash board before him, just below the windshield and behind the steering wheel where he could keep a close eye on my little boy. Tales of the crazy woman who jumped off the end of the dock into complete darkness on Prince of Wales Island, to save her dog from drowning; preceded us as we made our way up the Inside Passage. It turned out that twenty or thirty feet can be -- a very long way to go. This is a true story by Shebolith Says… Enjoy more short stories and writings by Shebolith, at blogspot/ShebolithSays
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 08:10:34 +0000
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