"Okay," you could see her thinking, "this is water. Not good to stand on."
She walked around the edge a bit and sniffed the lilypads. She's never seen lilypads before, little NYC dog that she is.
"Hmm," she was saying. "These look a good deal more substantial. Let's give them a go."
I contemplated saying "No!" but reasoned: if I stop her now, she'll only try it some time when I'm not there. The pond is deepish and weedy; better she should learn this lesson while I'm here to lifesave if necessary. Also, it's going to be funny.
So she put a tentative paw onto the lilypad, and followed it up with another paw and her weight behind it...
...and took a header into the pond, splosh.
And swam across the pond and heaved herself out indignant and dripping, and raced around the place drying off while I sat and giggled incoherently.
She's not shown any interest in the lilypads since. Instead, she's been flirting with the fountain and chasing frogs, when she can find them. Frogs are even better than tennis balls; they throw themselves!
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