The water’s cold, so cold it burns. I paddle frantically. Nothing happens. It’s like pawing air.
I keep my teeth tight on Rowdy. Do not let go. Do not let go, I tell myself, but the water’s churning into my nose and throat, and if I cough, he’ll be a goner.
We hit something hard and metal straight on. I’m underwater, submerged, as bits and pieces of the world rush past.
It’s like the tornado, only wetter.
I dig at the darkness. I think of all the things I’ll miss when I’m dead.
Cheese tops the list.
Well, okay, maybe Ivan and Ruby and Julia and George and Sara top the list.
But then totally cheese.
My back paws graze the bottom. My nose burns. My lungs burn. Everything burns.
I have to cough.
I can’t cough.
Mustering all my strength, I struggle to the surface for a moment, fighting the water with my paws.
Rowdy is dead weight in my mouth.
I hit bottom again, and this time I use it like a springboard, lurching toward the edge of the water, toward solid land, toward grass and dirt and trees and bushes and—
A whoosh of fur and pain, oh man, the pain, someone grabbing my paw, losing it, teeth, sharp, sharp teeth, the smell, even with my messed-up nose, of wildness and danger.
Something grabs my scruff, yanks, pulls me to safety.
Back to the world. Back from the brink.