Care Guides

Dogs are not born knowing how to swim. That one sentence would prevent most of the water accidents pets have every summer, and yet the myth hangs on — the belief that instinct takes over the moment paws leave the bottom. Some dogs do swim beautifully the first time. Plenty panic. And a few are built in a way that makes staying afloat close to impossible, so they go under while their owner stands on the bank waiting for nature to kick in.

Shape decides most of it. Bulldogs, French bulldogs and pugs carry heavy chests and dense shoulders on short legs, and they cannot hold a flat face clear of the surface for long. They are already working harder than other dogs just to breathe on dry land. Put one in a pool and it may sink, quickly and quietly. Deep-chested, narrow dogs — greyhounds, some boxers and dobermanns — often paddle hard at the front and drop at the back, ending up nose-up and tail-down, treading water vertically until they tire. Long-backed, short-legged dogs such as dachshunds can paddle, but cannot climb out of anything steeper than a gentle slope. Old dogs, dogs in heavy sodden coats and puppies who have never swum belong in the same group: supervise them as though they cannot swim.

The garden pool is the dangerous one

Owners worry about rivers and the sea and relax about the pool at home, which is the wrong way round. A pool has vertical walls. A dog that falls in and cannot find the steps will swim the edge looking for a way out, and will keep swimming until there is nothing left. That is how most domestic drownings happen, usually with nobody watching.

So teach the exit before anything else. Get in with your dog, walk them to the steps, let them climb out on their own legs, and repeat it from every corner of the pool until they head for that spot automatically. Mark it with something they can pick out — a bright mat, a planter. Do it again each season, and with visiting dogs too. A floating solar cover is worse than none at all; a dog that steps onto one ends up tangled underneath. A rigid cover, or a fence with a self-closing gate, is the only real protection for the hours you are not there.

Life jackets, cold water and the panic that follows

A life jacket is not a gimmick, but it is not a lifeguard either. It earns its place on boats, kayaks and paddleboards, in open water with tides or current, and on flat-faced breeds, small dogs, senior dogs and any dog you would not confidently bet on swimming a hundred metres. Buy one with a solid handle across the back so you can lift a soaked dog straight out. Check the fit — snug enough that it cannot slide forward over the head — and try it somewhere shallow where your dog can stand.

Cold water is its own hazard and it catches people out in spring. Water warms far more slowly than air, so a mild afternoon can sit alongside water cold enough to trigger a gasp reflex, fast shallow breathing and muscle failure within minutes. Dogs get into difficulty fast, and so do the people who go in after them. Water rescue teams repeat the same plea every year: stay out, move along the bank to a shallow exit, call from land and ring for help. Dogs often get themselves out. Their owners often do not.

Algae, salt water and the rinse afterwards

In warm, still weather, cyanobacteria — blue-green algae — bloom on lakes, ponds, canals and reservoirs. It can look like pea soup, like paint spilled across the surface, like blue-green or brown scum collecting at the downwind edge, or like foam and small clumps in the shallows. The toxins can kill within hours, and a dog does not have to swim in it; a mouthful of water or a lick of a wet coat is enough. Signs include vomiting, diarrhoea, heavy drooling, tremors, weakness, collapse and seizures. There is no antidote. Treatment is supportive and depends entirely on speed. If your dog has been in water you have any doubt about, do not wait to see what develops. Rinse them with clean water if you can, stop them licking themselves, and phone the vet straight away, saying you suspect blue-green algae. This is an emergency, not something to watch at home.

At the beach the problem is what goes in. Dogs that bite at waves or fetch through surf swallow a startling amount of seawater. A little brings the sandy, miserable beach diarrhoea that turns up that evening. A lot causes salt poisoning — vomiting, wobbliness, disorientation, seizures — and that is another emergency. Carry fresh water and offer it every fifteen minutes, take breaks away from the shoreline, and stop the endless ball game in the shallows.

Rinse at the end whatever the water was. Chlorine and salt both strip the coat and irritate skin, especially in the armpits, groin and facial folds, so plain water and a proper towel-dry beats any product. Ears are the bit people skip. A dog's ear canal turns a corner, which leaves water sitting at the bottom of somewhere warm, dark and damp. Wipe the outer ear and the visible part of the canal with cotton wool or gauze — never a cotton bud pushed downwards. If yours swims often, ask your vet about a drying ear solution to use afterwards, and treat head shaking, scratching, a yeasty smell or brown discharge as a reason to book in early rather than wait.

None of this is an argument for keeping dogs away from water. Swimming is superb low-impact exercise, and for arthritic or overweight dogs it can be the best thing in the week. Just know what your dog is built for, teach them where the way out is, and be the person who is actually watching.