Sophie, Dog Overboard : The Incredible True Adventures of the Castaway Dog by Emma Pearse Page A

head,” Jan explains.
    Jan took the binoculars from Dave, who hurried up to the flybridge. They decided he would drive the boat back and forth and survey from up there, and Jan would scan from down on the deck.
    When their binoculars and yelling yielded no swimming pup, Jan’s panic really set in.
How could she have disappeared so quickly? What if Sophie had hit the side of the boat? She could have hit the foam and swallowed a mouthful and drowned. The tides could slam her into rocks, knocking her unconscious or worse. Another boat could easily miss her, running her over. Worse yet, the
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could miss her and run her over.
    The Griffiths drove around, zigzagging and retracing the path back towards Hesket and Aspatria. Maybe Sophie was treading water in the spot she went overboard. The sky darkened even more and the day cooled as they called Sophie’s name. The water was so sloppy that it was hard for Jan to keep her balance and focusthe binoculars. She began to see things—every white cap became Sophie; every jumping fish or wrinkle in the horizon her sweet dog. She was desperate to catch just a glimpse of those perky blue-gray ears. But with every minute that passed, Jan knew the odds they were playing against were worsening. If Sophie was alive, if she was out there swimming, there were so many natural forces to contend with.
What if she really had hit her head but was still alive, thrashing about out in there? What must she be feeling? Terror. She must be so confused. She would be expecting them to come and scoop her up and wondering why on earth she was out there alone. Could she see
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and see Jan and Dave yelling over the sides? What if she was watching them, trying to call out but unable to bark. Was she keeping her head above the water?
    Dave was peering across the ocean and imagining Sophie all alone out there.
How could the girl possibly survive? It was water forever.
He had looked out to sea so many times, from his board as a surfer and from
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as a boat owner, and felt such a sense of fulfillment and peace. He loved the vastness and the energy. But he knew the potential for disaster and since learning more about boating, he was even more aware of it. The idea of Bridget or Ellen swimming out there on their own, injured and terrified, was too much for him to handle; and Sophie was so much more vulnerable. She had no concept of tides or sharks. She had no concept of being alone in the world. And it was he who was responsible.
    The guilt set in instantly for both of them. Jan wasloathing herself.
Why had she called Dave up to the flybridge? Why had they left Sophie alone? They never did, ever ever, and now she was out there somewhere. She hated to be away from them. How could they have been so stupid?
    Jan and Dave were thinking all of this and yet saying none of it. They were in emergency mode and their mission was to find Sophie. Their silence was imperative: speak and all their fears would become real.
    Dave was alternating between searching and driving, rushing up the ladder to drive
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forward and anchor her again so they could stop and thoroughly search the area without the noise of the engine interfering with a chance bark or howl. They stopped for ten-minute intervals, edging their way around the north side of Aspatria, then getting as close to Hesket Rock as they safely could. They stopped and again yelled Sophie’s name over and over.
    â€œSophie! Sophie Tucker! Here girl! Tuck! Where are you Sophie? Tucker!” They listened and they squinted and they hung themselves over
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’s railings. They knew every minute that passed was likely to sweep Sophie further from them. They didn’t know where she went overboard, exactly, but they’d let her out of their sight for fewer than ten minutes, which in boating talk is equal to far longer. The tide had been high at around half past eight, about ninety minutes before they lost Sophie. This meant