"I can see myself!"

That is the question Olive faced (literally) as she stood poised over the edge of the in ground pool at my friend Ellen’s home in Virginia. We tried to entice her down the three little textured steps into the pool using many, many biscuits and even some Monterey Jack cheese. No dice. She would plunge her perfectly shaped snout into the water up to her amber eyeballs to get the barely floating, rapidly disintegrating biscuit or wobbly bobbing orange and white cheese cube, even extending one of her paws multiple times to drag it towards her. A few times, Olive did gingerly plant her front paws on the first submerged step. There she stopped, like she was frozen in time. I didn’t have the patience to watch paint dry which is what training dogs can be like so I told my friend Sue that if she could get Olive into the pool willingly without trauma or drama, I would pay her $50. Since I have the patience of a gnat, it would be well worth it. “IS THAT MY FACE?” Olive seems to be wondering as she stares into the pool. “HOW CAN I BE THERE IF I AM ALREADY OVER HERE? ‘WHY AM I NOT WET?” And then, “ARE THEY INSANE? THEY WANT ME TO JUMP INTO THIS WATER BOWL WITH THE ENDLESS BOTTOM? NOPE. DON’T THINK SO.” Sue, who is in a whale blue inflatable chair float in the pool, puts her glass down at the pool’s edge to break up a biscuit, Olive casually saunters by trying to score a few slurps of the high test alcoholic beverage. I yank the glass away before her tongue ever touches down. “NICE TRY,” I tell Olive. “IF YOU GET INTO THE POOL ON YOUR OWN, WE’LL TALK ABOUT A HIGHER VALUE TREAT.” Olive considered what I was saying and walked away. Sue kept her drink and I kept my $50. Maybe next time.