Head Under Water and they tell me to Breathe Easy for a While

This has to be an upbeat post because everybody says these serious posts are bumming them out. Yep. Who knew? I mean, people dying and stuff is a bit challenging to write about in an upbeat manner but, okay, whatever. I remember this guy at the gym a million years ago who I called (not to his face) “Old Bob.” Probably, he was only about as old as I am now but, at 19, you think anyone over 50 is near death. Anyway, when his brother died, I told him how sorry I was and he said, “Oh, don’t be sorry! In our family, we celebrate when someone leaves this world and passes into the next one.” I kinda thought he was crazy at the time. Now, I envy his outlook. But, I digress. Today, defying everyone’s admonishments for the last 200 years, including my own, I went swimming alone. Yes, alone. But, I had my rescue dog with me, providing a false sense of security. He is a rescue dog, not because he was a rescue dog, but because he is suppose to rescue swimmers who find themselves in trouble. The fact that I have rescued HIM, twice, from drowning, casts doubt on his abilities. But, he stood guard, nonetheless, watching me intently while I swam. I kind of forgot about him after awhile. When I finally got back to the dock, half dead, due to the fact I was energetic when I started and swam too far, I glanced up ready to say, “Good dog,” and all that stuff, only to find him stretched out on his side, fast asleep. Nice people would have just let sleeping dogs lie, but I couldn’t help splashing him and scaring him to death. “Thanks a lot, buddy.” Dog days of summer. Don’t swim alone, people. Take your best friend along, not man’s best friend, a real friend, because if you drown, I’ll have to write another bummer post about you. Yep.