Oscar is thinking twice about jumping into the normally limpid river Ravensbourne this morning. He’s been a bit of a wuss about water since (I think) he fell into the pond in our garden as a puppy. He loves paddling and splashing in puddles but never goes out of his depth, preferring instead to tiptoe gingerly around the river bank to find a safe place from which to lunge and grab a stick.


It’s terribly frustrating for him as he stands and whinges, too frightened to swim, despite having webbed feet specifically designed for use by a water dog. He’s only swum properly once, when safely attached to the Boywonder or the OH, already in the water,  with a lead. We’ve even thought of buying wetsuits to encourage him to swim.


On this occasion, however, it was pouring with rain and all the rainwater from the surrounding flooded fields was cascading into this normally slow-flowing stream. I’m glad Oscar didn’t dive in, I didn’t fancy going in to rescue him. Not that it would have made any difference: I don’t think I’ve ever been so wet on a  dog walk.