I hadn’t noticed major league baseball was such a source of domestic angst and great fishing. Pets and wives locked away in mud rooms or hiding in bedrooms while chips and dip spatter both couch and fans. Your spouse should’ve known of your predilections for the designated hitter, so we’re less sensitive to her drama, rather it’s Man’s Best Friend that keeps getting the raw deal.
It would seem less one sided if you saved your furry pal some backwash from that $12.00 watery beer or brought home the greasy wrapper with all those snouts, jowls, and gonads they ground to make that ballpark frank, instead your loyal dog gets nary a thought nor pat for his lonesome vigil guarding home and property …
Which is my karmic gain, as everytime I agree to take your canine for a frolic in lukewarm tomato effluent, I’m guaranteed fishing success, as Poseidon hisself has a soft spot for unloved canines.
I’ve given up finding a human to fish with – and rather like this new role of peeling away all that obedience training. Nothing like allowing your sweet smelling, well behaved canine to act like a Dog – with all the crapping, scratching, shedding, and rolling in dead stuff he’s earned by birthright.
It’s akin to that “Evil Uncle” that volunteers to take your kids to Disneyland, gets them hopped up on sugar and lard, lets them roll in decayed animal flesh then dumps them on your porch while waving cheerily and making dust down your driveway.
All these selfless acts of kindness results in the fishing gods being mighty generous to my heavy tread on his creek …
I make this another trash fish record for our pals at the IGFA. Their largest fly caught Pikeminnow is 6.5 pounds and this is likely a pound better than theirs. I’d guess somewhere in the 36-40” range and close to seven or eight pounds.
Taken on the … ahem … dry fly (kinda)(preen).
That’s a 3/0 Yellow and Olive DustBuster Bass Popper I tied up the night before. I slapped it onto a big pad of floating Green slime gave her a tug to pull it off and she never got damp …
It was ate instead.
Their aggression does not surprise me, having caught many hundreds of them with leeches and nymphs, but for them to take the surface fly, and one half the size of a fist, is pretty extraordinary.
Little Meat adds a bit of perspective. Normally he inspects everything that flops fetchingly on the end of the line, but likely he was protecting the sensitive bits from Mister Aggressive, who appears large enough to think a Heeler mix a worthy snack food.
… and this is how you reward a loyal pal. Nice Doggy!
I peel the thin veneer of obedience training off your hound while endearing myself to the Gods of Fishing. The Crime Perfect.
Everyone needs an Evil Uncle.
your back? from the depths? to write again? Awesome…..thanks.
KB —
As usual, I could follow only about 80% of what you wrote, but I’m glad to have the chance again to be so flummoxed. Dare I say, “Welcome back”?
— Greg
Nice fish. Good to see you back at it.
It was worth it.
The wife-person was thrilled with the S.F. Giants come-back win, so a good time was had by all.
Except…now will you come over and clean up Little Meat’s “treasures” all over the lawn? They have the telltale trace of highly modified meat products all over them.
I’d say that fishy bad boy should be a SOTM over at Moldy Chum’s place…but what were ya thinking,exposing poor Lil Meat to what looks to be a HazMat spill???
I drove over your ditch twice this past Saturday while making a day trip to Redding, and was surprised to see it still held some water. If that’s the level it’s been at all summer, then that fish you’re holding is quite a trophy.
Welcome back to one of the best wordsmiths on the web. You were missed. That Pikeminnow fight well? I’ve seen big ones in the Kings River that’d approach that size, may have to target them………..
What is it with “best wordsmiths” and their inability to follow the rules of punctuation? I’m not sure it’s not simply a case of a fellow that talks loudest and provided the beer (therefore everyone is extra polite).