08/02/2026
Feet on the Ground
About six years ago, we took Bear up to Devil’s Lake for a very specific reason. We wanted to find out exactly how much our Newfoundland loved the water.
If you know anything about Newfoundlands, you probably understand why we thought we already knew the answer. These dogs were bred for water. They’re powerful swimmers with a long history of working alongside fishermen and performing water rescues. Bear certainly looked equipped for the job. At around 180 pounds, with that massive body and webbed feet, everything about him suggested the lake ought to be his natural habitat.
There was just one problem. Nobody had consulted Bear.
Bear, as he remembers it:
Yeah. Devil’s Lake. Good lake.
So we get there and apparently Dan has expectations. I didn’t know about the expectations. Nobody mentioned expectations in the truck. Apparently I’m a Newfoundland, which, yeah, I’m aware, man. We’ve covered this.
But now there’s this whole thing about swimming. Apparently Newfoundlands are great swimmers. There’s a history here.
Okay.
I’m also great at lying on the couch. Nobody drove two hours to test that.
Bear actually liked the water. He walked right in and would happily wade around, even going surprisingly deep, provided one important condition remained in place: his feet had to touch the bottom.
As long as Bear could feel solid ground underneath him, the whole lake thing was pretty agreeable. He could cool off and enjoy himself. As far as he was concerned, he was participating.
Then we went a little deeper, and at some point the bottom disappeared. Suddenly, 180 pounds of Newfoundland became 180 pounds of floating Newfoundland, and Bear was not having any part of it.
Bear:
Yeah, so here’s where the story gets a little weird. Everything’s going fine. Beautiful day. I’m thinking, hey, this lake really ties the afternoon together.
And then... no floor.
Dan seems strangely comfortable with this development. I’m looking down, my feet aren’t touching anything, and apparently everybody expects me to just go with it.
Well, you know, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.
Bear’s solution was immediate. If you can imagine a 180-pound lovable giant trying to crawl directly up the side of me and hang on, you have a pretty good idea of what happened next. I’m sure we were quite a sight to everybody else at Devil’s Lake that day. Here was this enormous Newfoundland, from one of the greatest water-dog breeds on earth, attempting to turn a full-grown man into a flotation device.
Bear remembers that part somewhat differently.
Whoa, whoa. “Desperately” feels strong. Nobody was panicking.
There was no floor. Dan was right there. I grabbed Dan.
He calls it climbing. I call it making use of available resources. Very reasonable response, if you ask me.
Eventually, we got back to where Bear could put those enormous paws on the bottom again, and everything was fine. He stood there perfectly content, with no apparent concern that generations of Newfoundlands before him had built quite a reputation for themselves in the water.
That’s the part of the story I appreciate more now than I probably did that day. We went to Devil’s Lake thinking we knew what Bear was supposed to do because we knew what Newfoundlands were supposed to do. It was a perfectly reasonable expectation. It was also wrong.
We do that with people, too. Sometimes we know enough about someone to convince ourselves we know what should come next. We see the ability and assume the desire comes with it. But being built for something doesn’t necessarily mean that’s who you want to be.
Bear could swim. That wasn’t really the question anymore. The answer we got at Devil’s Lake was that Bear had absolutely no interest in swimming when standing was an available option. He liked the lake and was perfectly willing to wander out there and enjoy it. He just preferred to do it on his terms, with something solid underneath him.
If Bear got the final word on that day, I suspect he’d wonder why I’ve managed to turn a perfectly nice afternoon at Devil’s Lake into this much of a discussion.
Look, man. I went in the lake. I had a good time.
My feet came off the ground once. Didn’t care for it. So we adjusted.
You people have been talking about it for six years.
I swim. I just prefer walking.
And, you know... just because you can swim doesn’t mean you have to.
