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Showing these dogs who's the man

Wade Spees
The Post and Courier

Much like Cooper (he's the dog in the photo), all it takes is a squeaky toy and a heartfelt, 'Go get it, boy!' to get Bryce to jump off a dock into freezing cold water.

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Bryce Donovan takes a running jump against the dogs into the water at the SEWE 'Dock Dogs' competition Watch »

Have you ever been watching TV and come across one of those shows where dogs are jumping off a dock into freezing cold water after an old tennis ball that probably is covered in more germs than the floor of a public restroom and thought to yourself, "Man, that really looks like fun"?

Of course you haven't. That's because you aren't a complete idiot.

I, on the other hand, ask myself this very question all the time. I'm not kidding. That's why, when I found out DockDogs, a sanctioning body for professional as well as amateur dog dock jumping, was coming to town for the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition, I had to get in on the action. So I gave them a call.

DOCKDOGS REPRESENTATIVE: "DockDogs, how can I help you?"

ME: "Yeah, hi. My name is Bryce Donovan. Listen, I would love the opportunity to beat some of your dogs."

DOCKDOGS REPRESENTATIVE: (Click.)

ME: "Hello?"

Needless to say, setting up this showdown took more than one call (and apology). But once we were finally on the same page, we decided a showdown could be arranged to see who could jump farther off a dock — me or a dog. The plan was to meet DockDogs show director Bob DeWire at Brittlebank Park at precisely 11:30 a.m. on Friday. There, I also would find my opponent, Cooper, a Chesapeake Bay retriever. I was assured he would be patiently waiting — and, if I had to make an educated guess, probably licking himself.

When I arrived, the first thing I noticed was the gigantic jump tank. OK, so the first thing I noticed was how many people must not have jobs. I mean, how can that many people find time on a weekday to take their dog to the park, buy camouflaged merchandise and eat onion rings? It boggles the mind. Anyway, however these folks worked it out with their employers, the point is that the turnout for my big jump-off with Cooper was amazing.

As for the venue itself, we would be jumping off an Astroturf-covered dock into a 40-by-20-foot tank filled with 28,000 gallons of really, REALLY cold water. Though I'm generally fearless, the setup had me concerned about several things, such as hypothermia, catching dog diseases and that episode of "Seinfeld" where George gets in the cold pool and later Jerry's girlfriend sees him changing out of his bathing suit and starts laughing uncontrollably. ("I was in the pool! I was in the pool!")

But as usual, I put my fears out of my mind and got down to business. Cooper decided to do the same thing. Only he did his on a tree.

When it finally came time to jump, Cooper went first. As soon as his owner threw his bright orange floatable toy, Cooper took off down the ramp, where, at the end, he launched himself 16 feet, 2 inches into the water.

As Bob brought me up onto the dock, I munched a few extra Milk Bones for some last-second energy. It was right around this point I asked if he'd mind throwing my favorite tennis ball into the water. He agreed and quickly fired a perfect strike to the far end of the tank. I paused a second, took a deep breath and then, just like that, started licking myself.

Of course I am only joking. I ran down the dock at a blazing pace only an Olympic sprinter could maintain if he was in a full body cast. Then, at the end of the dock, I pushed off as hard as I could. For what seemed like milliseconds I soared through the air before hitting the water and then, the bottom. As it turns out, the tank is only 4 feet deep. (I guess it's a good thing I decided against that jackknife.) When I popped my head out the water, I immediately asked how far I jumped. Of course by "asked how far I jumped" I mean "screamed like a 6-year-old girl because I was f-f-freezing." But after I was given a towel (for my hair), a cup of hot chocolate and put on my heated Hello Kitty slippers, I asked Bob how far I jumped. The verdict: 16 feet, 10 inches.

To say I was relieved to win is a massive understatement. After all, Cooper and I had a pretty substantial bet riding on the outcome. As the winner, I got to treat myself to a gigantic rawhide. As for Cooper, well, let's just say he won't be entering any father-son dock jumping contests in the foreseeable future.