Pugs neither float nor swim.

Is summer over yet?

I know that there are those of you out there who enjoy the sun and heat and humidity, but I honestly have no idea how you do it.

Rebecca summed it up beautifully. "When it's hot I sweat. When it's hot and humid I am dead on my feet."

When I woke up this morning it was at least 167 degrees.

I mean it. I woke up, threw on some clothes and took the dogs outside for their walk and wanted to die.

This morning I met up with my buddy TJIC. Funny thing about TJIC. We knew each other in high school back in New Jersey and now we live in the same town. Since we both have dogs and the same sense of snark we often walk our dogs together.

Since we are walking early we let the dogs run off leash on the path a bit. Sophie loves to run to the water and drink pond scum. She prefers poop of course, but can't resist green slime either.

As TJIC and I were chatting I realised that Sophie wasn't with me. I called her name. Usually when I call for her she comes running or at least starts rustling in the underbrush.

This time when I called her I heard nothing. Not a peep. It was odd, but I wasn't worried. I called her again and again. More silence.

Now I was getting a little worried.

I went closer to the water and noticed the water rippling just past a large bush. Aha! She must be drinking. I rounded the bush and at first I did not see her at all.

Then I saw the water moving again and realized that Sophie had fallen off a rock ledge and was almost entirely underwater. Her face was just above the water and her paws were holding on to the rock. I ran down and scooped her out of the water.

She coughed and sneezed and shook her fur, but she was fine.

I wasn't though.

I think that I was shocked at first. TJIC and I continued the walk, our conversation humming along. Every so often I'd stop and say, "Sophie almost drowned!"

TJIC would say, "I know."

"But what if I hadn't noticed for a few more minutes! She'd be dead!"

"I know." TJIC replied.

Most days I don't dwell on "what ifs". It's really not my style. I don't dabble in regrets and I almost never look back.

Sometimes though I am keenly aware of how sharp the edge of each moment can be. I take for granted that I will wake up, go outside, curse the weather, pick up dog poop, do the laundry, and on and on and on.

I assume that there will be no drownings, no car accidents. There will be no blood loss or heart attacks. Each day will blend seamlessly into night, the only tragedies which will mar the day will be stubbed toes and broken nails.

What if it all goes wrong?

It didn't.

I'm grateful and humbled by the lesson.