Before four-thirty, John checked the temperature of the lake. Seeing it was warm enough, he returned to the house and took Schoep, cradling him in his arms, and made his way towards the lake again.
"C'mon, it's time," he told him, as he stepped into the water. He was instantly dowsed, water drenching his clothes, and he paid it no heed. Feet sinking into the water, he situated himself at a part where he could easily float.
He let Schoep stretch on the water, the dog whimpering softly, while still gently holding onto him, knowing the buoyancy of the water will calm his arthritic bones as well as help him sleep.
Soon, Schoep's head was nestled at the crook of his neck, leaning against him, with his eyes shut. John closed his as well, allowing the water to pull and push them lightly. He listened to the noises of the woods, the crickets gradually appearing as the sun set, while he held onto his dog - his boy - with the tenderness of one who treasures, memorizing his homey scent and his soft fur and his wet snout and his low snoring, because he knew this could be the last time.
Flash!
His eyes opened, craning his head to the dock, and saw Hannah standing there with her camera. He gave her a brief smile, which she returned with a cheery wave before returning to her job.
John glanced down at the sleeping dog, sensing him shivering. He turned to Hannah. "I've got to take him out of the water," he said, words echoing through the silent area.
Hannah threw a thumbs-up into the air as a response.
John waded out of the water, careful not to wake Schoep up, and soon, he was on land, with heavy and sticky clothes and the cold stinging his trembling skin. At the sound of running footsteps, he turned and saw Hannah jogging his way.
She grinned at him. "I've got some great shots. I'll give them to you within the next day or so."
Teeth chattering, he merely nodded as a sign of his gratitude, before they parted ways.