Dog-Gone Water

“Staaaayyyyyyy . . . staaaaayyyy . . . GO FETCH!”

Lindsay, my first dog as a single, young man, plunged into the deep water from her perch on the dock. She was chasing her retriever dummy. I was after a good grade. She and I repeated this routine more than 80 times that early morning as part of a college photography “Freeze a moment in time” assignment in 1985.

I clicked away from my position laying belly down on the dock using my elbows and body as a tripod. Lindsay was happy to oblige with every jump into Sand Lake.

She seemed to know what I was trying to accomplish as she dove each time. We waited for the waves from each swim to settle back into mirror-mode before each new retrieve. Then I tossed her retrieving dummy about 30 feet offshore.

Lindsay sat about five feet from the edge of the dock waiting for my “Go!” command. There was no camera screen to preview. I had to capture the moment with proper exposures using my manual Pentax K-1000 35mm camera.

Lindsay was a mixed-breed golden retriever. She was my fulltime companion throughout college as I attended evening classes at University of Alaska and worked full-time during the day.

Lindsay provided the first true bonding experience I ever had with an animal companion. She was a best friend who also brought smiles to others she met. She provided companion therapy for residents at Hope Cottages in the 1980s through an organization called “People Animal Connection.”

She won two State Frisbee catching tournaments in Fairbanks. Lindsay even helped connect me with my wife, Carol. Lindsay was my best friend.

Lindsay helped from my purpose in life.

From my eleven years with her, I learned that animals have feelings and souls and their own purpose. I realized that they deserve companionship as much as any person.

She opened my eyes by whispering to me, and I learned that it’s important to listen to others, people and animals, thanks to her.

Without Lindsay, I would not be the photographer or person I am today.