Strange how memory works: Max, the dog on a dock line of yesterday, reminded me of Jane, the dog who catches dock lines at Oldport Marine.
That's not strange, actually; it's logical. It'd be strange if I weren't reminded.
Have you seen Jane?? She rides around town in a milk crate affixed to her master's scooter. But, on the dock, she's the boss. If she sees or even hears a boat bearing down, she runs back and forth awaiting the toss — not of a bone or a ball but the dock line. And when it's thrown, she carries it to the cleat. Jane doesn't cleat the line, but I'm guessing that's due only to the limitations of paws.
Seriously, when we (Mr. Betty, Darling Daughter and I) were sitting at Oldport the other day waiting for a launch, a seriously big power boat was backing away from Bannister's Wharf. It wasn't docking; it was, in effect, pulling out of a very tight parallel-parking space on a narrow one-way Newport street that happened to be paved with water. But Jane was ready. And worried! To the point of panting with nervousness ... unless it was the heat.
The boat came close, giving us a close-range look at anchor and bumpers, but ultimately backed out successfully ...
