The other night I dreamt that Sweet Potato and I were by a little stone pond. She wanted to go in it; I said okay. It was like a garden pond, about eight feet long, black stone, about six inches deep. Sure. She waded in. In the middle of the pond she bent over to look at something, and tipped over, head in, bottom up. I jumped to grab her, but when I looked in the pool, she had already fallen deep into the drain (only about 2 inches around), and all I could see were her fingertips in it.
Last month Sweet Potato and I were in a rec center pool that we visit often. We were wading in about a foot and a half of water, moving toward the deeper side, when she slipped and fell forward. She was horizontal underwater, hair billowing, little arms reaching with a small, hesitant motion. She couldn’t get up; she didn’t understand where she was or how to get her position. Before I was able to take the two steps over and scoop her up her face rolled toward the surface about a quarter turn. Her eyes were so wide open.
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