The sun was now directly overhead. I had stripped off my coat and my sweater and was still working up a sweat. Oreo didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t strip any layers off him. He needed more water to keep his temperature down. My arms were sore from the ten million bins of water I’d dumped over the past few hours.
I stopped and bent down right beside his head. I needed to rest, but I thought Oreo could use some reassurance. Maybe I was just imagining it, but I thought his eyes looked more calm when I was talking to him.
“I’m just taking a bit of a break,” I explained. “You’re doing well. The tide will be coming back in soon.”
Soon meant in about an hour. But I’d still have to wait for high tide before there’d be any chance of Oreo getting free. As the sun got hotter and hotter, it was going to get harder and harder for me to get water. I’d pretty much used up all the water in the pool. Soon I’d have to climb down the rocks, dip the bin in the ocean and then muscle it back up, trying not to spill it or fall.
I was also getting very hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and even then I hadn’t eaten much. My grandfather had gone off a while ago to get us both something to eat. I hoped he would be back soon. Not just because of the food—I wanted him here. I felt alone and a little scared.
Really, of course, I wasn’t alone. And it wasn’t just Oreo here with me. The entire pod was here, not far from the rocks, as close as they could come. Only the receding tide had forced them farther away. They still called out, and Oreo answered. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there from their calls.
I jumped off the rocks and onto the sand. With the tide out, there was more beach now. Blue bin in hand, I walked toward the water. I came up to the stick my grandfather had stuck into the sand to mark the water level. The fact that it was now a dozen paces from the water confirmed that the tide was still going out.
My grandfather came around the other side of the rocks. Now that the tide was out so far, he could make it here along the beach. He had a pack on his back and something over his shoulder. As he came closer, I realized it was a green garden hose.
“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. “But I got an idea.”
“The hose.”
“And this pump.”
A bicycle air pump was attached to the end of the hose, held in place by gray duct tape.
“I want you to take one end of the hose up to Oreo. I’m going to try to pump water up from the ocean,” he said.
“Do you think it’ll work?”
“I’m a painter not a plumber, but it should work. At least, I hope it does.”
“Not as much as I do. I was not looking forward to trying to lug this water up the cliff.”
“Let’s test it out. Take the end of the hose and the pack. There’s food in there.”
I dropped the bin to the sand, slipped on the pack and took the end of the hose. I uncoiled it in one direction. My grandfather unspooled it in the other as he headed for the water’s edge. I climbed up the rocks. They were becoming less dangerous and less slippery as they dried.
By the time I reached Oreo’s side, my grandfather was already standing in the ocean. I watched him pump the handle, up and down, up and down, up and down. He was working hard, but no water was coming out my end. It wasn’t working.
But suddenly I heard a gurgling sound in the hose. It got louder and louder, and then water came squirting out.
I aimed the hose toward Oreo, and water ran down his back and over his dorsal fin. I screamed at the top of my lungs and waved one hand in the air, trying to get my grandfather’s attention. My grandfather kept pumping, but he yelled back and gave a quick one-handed wave.
The water kept flowing, coming in little pulses. I ran it over Oreo’s tail, along his back, on his sides and all the way to his head. This was incredible!
Oreo started to react. His big tail went up and down, his mouth opened to reveal his giant teeth, and he called out. It was a different cry. It sounded hopeful. Maybe he had reason to be hopeful. Maybe we both did.