Pool safety is important for ALL kids – whether furry or not
I thought we were going outside for a quiet afternoon by the pool. This was my first mistake.
My second mistake was assuming that because everyone had been out by the pool before, everyone understood the basic rules.
No running.
No jumping without permission.
No leaning over the edge to investigate leaves.
No treating the pool noodle as a weapon, flotation device, microphone, royal sceptre, or emergency rescue snake.
The rules seemed simple. Naturally, Biscuit felt they required improvement.
I was arranging towels on the patio chairs when she appeared wearing sunglasses and an expression of grave responsibility. “Daddy,” she said, “I have appointed myself Head Lifeguard.”
Cricket looked up from the shade. “You can’t appoint yourself head lifeguard.”
“I can if no one else has appointed me.”
“You have to go through an extensive Lifeguarding course AND CPR training.”
Biscuit ignored her and continued. “As Head Lifeguard, I will be enforcing water safety.” I was cautiously optimistic. This lasted almost three seconds.
“Rule one,” Biscuit announced, “all snacks must be stored within reach of the lifeguard chair.”
“There is no lifeguard chair,” I said.
“Exactly,” she replied. “That is a safety issue. And, coincidentally, rule number two!”
Kevin trotted over carrying a pool noodle twice his length. “I’m the emergenthy wethcue thquad,” he said.
“That’s emergency rescue squad,” Cricket said.
“That’th what I thaid.”
Biscuit nodded approvingly. “Kevin is in charge of noodle deployment.” Kevin saluted and accidentally hit himself in the face with the noodle. Which, I admit, did not fill me with confidence.
The pool sparkled in the afternoon sun, looking calm, harmless and inviting, which is exactly why backyard pools deserve respect. They do not look dangerous. They do not growl. They do not give warnings. They simply sit there waiting for someone to make a bad decision. And dogs, wonderful as they are, are experts in bad decisions. Biscuit in particular!
“Before anyone goes near the water,” I said, “we are reviewing the pool rules.”
Biscuit groaned. “We already know them.”
“Then this will be quick.” Cricket sat taller, because Cricket enjoys rules when they apply to other people.
“First,” I said, “no dog is allowed near the pool unless an adult is watching. Especially if the pool cover is still on!”
Kevin raised a paw. “What if we are only looking?”
“Especially then.”
Biscuit frowned. “But walking on the pool cover is cool! It’s like walking on the moon!”
“No. Looking can become leaning, leaning can become slipping, and slipping can become a very bad afternoon. If the cover is on, you can easily drown by getting stuck underneath it!”
Cricket nodded. “That is a logical sequence.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Biscuit muttered, “Teacher’s pet.”
“Second,” I continued, “every dog needs to know where the steps are.”
I walked them to the shallow end and pointed. “If you ever fall in, you come here. Not the side. Not the deep end. Here.”
Kevin peered at the steps. “The ethcape hatch.”
“Exactly,” I said. “The escape hatch.”
Biscuit inspected them with professional seriousness. “What if I fall in dramatically?”
“You still use the steps.”
“What if there is music?”
“Still the steps.”
“What if I am being filmed?”
“Especially the steps.”
Cricket looked at Kevin. “This is why we practice.” And we did.
One at a time, with me right there, we practised going in calmly and coming out calmly. No panic. No splashing frenzy. No heroic nonsense. Just turn, find the steps, climb out.
Cricket went first. She was sensible, dignified and slightly offended by the wetness.
Kevin went next. He paddled with great determination and the facial expression of someone filing a complaint with management.
Then came Biscuit.
Biscuit entered the water like a celebrity arriving at an awards show, all confidence and unnecessary drama. She paddled in a circle, ignored the steps, turned toward me and said, “I believe I have discovered an island.”
“You are in the middle of the pool.”
“Then I have discovered international waters.”
“Biscuit. Steps.”
She sighed, turned around, found the steps and climbed out.
“Fine,” she said, shaking water over all of us. “But my version had more adventure.”
The lesson continued. I explained that some dogs swim well, some dogs do not, and some dogs believe they swim well because nobody has had the heart to tell them otherwise. Life jackets are not an insult. They are a tool. Like a leash, a fence, or a baby gate, they exist because love sometimes looks like preventing a dangerous situation.
Biscuit looked suspicious. “Does this life jacket make me look less powerful?”
“No.”
“More powerful?”
“Sure.”
She puffed out her chest. “Then I accept.”
Kevin wanted one immediately. Not because he understood buoyancy, but because Biscuit had accepted one and Kevin’s life goal is to be included in Biscuit’s bad ideas before Cricket can stop them.
We also covered the other hazards. Dogs should not drink pool water. Chlorine, salt, and pool chemicals are not beverages, no matter how refreshing Kevin thinks “forbidden soup” sounds. Dogs should be rinsed off after swimming, especially if they have sensitive skin. Wet ears should be checked. Tired dogs should rest. And toys should not be thrown into the deep end unless a human is prepared to retrieve them, because a favourite ball has a way of turning a sensible dog into a furry torpedo with no exit strategy.
At the end of our safety lesson, Biscuit reclaimed her sunglasses. “As Head Lifeguard,” she said, “I declare this pool safe.”
“Not quite,” Cricket said.
Biscuit frowned. “What now?”
Cricket pointed to the patio table. “There are grapes.”
I moved them inside immediately.
Biscuit stared after me. “Wait. Grapes are dangerous too?”
“For dogs, yes.”
Kevin gasped. “Even if they’re wearing thunglatheth?”
“Even then,” Cricket said.
Biscuit lowered herself onto a towel, exhausted by the responsibilities of leadership. “This backyard is full of hazards,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied. “That’s why we have rules.”
She thought about this for a moment. “Fine. But I still need a lifeguard chair.”
“No.”
“A whistle?”
“No.”
“A snack station?”
“No.”
Kevin raised his noodle. “What about the emergenthy rethcue thquad?”
“You,” I said, “may keep the noodle.” Kevin beamed.
Biscuit leaned back in the sun, proud, damp and disappointed by the lack of municipal funding. And for the rest of the afternoon, everyone stayed safe. Mostly because the Head Lifeguard fell asleep on a towel. With one eye open. Just in case the snacks needed rescuing.
Questions from readers, answered by the Pups!
Question: Dear Cricket,
My dog hates swimming. Every summer I see other dogs happily. jumping into lakes ad pools, but mine acts like water is made of ava. I’d love for him to enjoy swimming, especially because we spend time near the cottage. How do I get him to like it?
Signed,
Soggy Dreams
Dear Soggy Dreams,
First, we must address the most important scientific principle: not every dog wishes to become a duck.
Some dogs love water. Some tolerate it. Some believe even damp grass is an unacceptable personal attack. The goal should not be to force your dog to love swimming. The goal is to help him feel safe around water and, if he chooses, discover that swimming can be fun.
Start very slowly. Do not carry him into the lake and “show him it’s fine.” That is how trust gets wet and runs away.
Begin at the edge of shallow water where he can stand comfortably. Let him sniff, watch, and retreat if he wants to. Reward curiosity with praise, treats, or a favourite toy. If he steps in with one paw, celebrate. If he steps in with two paws, throw a parade. A small parade. We do not want to startle him.
Use calm water, good footing, and warm weather. A slippery dock, crashing waves, or a sudden plunge is not a swimming lesson. It is a villain origin story.
A properly fitted dog life jacket can help build confidence, especially for beginners. Even strong swimmers can get tired, and some breeds are not naturally built for easy swimming. Stay close, support him gently if needed, and always show him how to get out. In a pool, practise finding the steps. At a lake, practise returning to shore.
Keep sessions short and happy. Stop while he is still having a good time. And if he never becomes a swimmer? That’s okay. Water safety matters more than water enthusiasm.
After all, sometimes, even I prefer dry observation, preferably from the shade, with a good book.
Cricket
The pups have had enough with the Dad jokes and take matters in their own hands! … er… paws. If you missed it, you definitely want to see THIS video!
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