Slight Detour: Dog Day at Lightning Creek

We don't have to ask our little Foster twice if he wants to ride shotgun.

Any hint that he gets to go for a ride, and he's immediately looking for his leash and keeping close track of the humans who might be taking him.

That's how it was yesterday when Bill said he was going to Lightning Creek. Did I want to go along?

"Yeah, maybe," I said.

Bill had some things to do in town, and I kept up with my morning "to do's."

When he returned, I'd had enough time to think about my fisherman hubby who will fish 'til dark, anywhere, any time.

I also thought about the animals back home and decided it was best to modify the plan a bit, taking two of those animals along.

I suggested that he go ahead, and I'd come later, equipped with some fresh-made sandwiches from the Pantry.

Sounded good to Bill so off he went.

In the meantime, Foster, who had listened to the conversation, kept that close watch on me, lest I take off without him.

I planned to leave Kiwi home cuz, at her age, she has a hard time getting in and out of vehicles.

So, when it was time to go, Liam and Foster jumped in the car, which had been supplied with fishing gear, chairs for the picnic and long ropes to keep Liam and Foster in tow.

We are always confident that they'll stay with us, but sometimes those noses go to forbidden places, like roads.

When I stopped at the Pantry in Clark Fork to get the sandwiches, Liam immediately began his whimpering and barking. This happens every time the car stops when he's in it.

The pathetic "Mom, don't leave me" protests usually last for about 30 seconds. Then, he shuts up.

I assured a family sitting on the deck that he would shut up.

When I came outside with sandwiches, and asked if he'd quit barking, they said he sure did. I think they were impressed and probably relieved.

We moved on to Lightning Creek Road where Bill said he'd be parked near the road.

Sure enough, at the second bridge, I saw the white pickup parked in a simple camping area alongside the creek.

Bill always arms me with a radio, so when I called him, he said he'd meet me in 10-15 minutes.

That gave me time to rig up a long rope which was threaded through the two doggie leash loops.

I grabbed my fish pole in one hand, and with dogs tugging on the other, headed toward the creek.

Dogs, however, headed toward whatever scents those sharp noses could find.

It took a while for the three of us to get coordinated and for me to realize that walking with the long rope BEHIND me was not a good idea.

Happily, I remained upright, and the two pups eventually figured out how to maneuver along with all that rope.

Later, when Bill came along, we had a few more rope problems before sitting in the chairs to eat our sandwiches.

Liam circled the rock fire pit the wrong way and got hung up. Later, when Liam found an enticing scent and raced off to investigate, little Foster almost went airborne from the force imposed on the rope by his buddy.

They almost wiped out the chairs and the water dish, but all survived. Bill and I eventually sat down and enjoyed the moments and those sandwiches.

When our mini-picnic came to a close, Bill said, "You're going fishing, aren't you?'

"Well, yeah, but what about the dogs?"

"I'll take them," he said.

And, so he did.

As I made my way through brush and around logs and through a 10-minute walk over boulders and through the creek, Bill followed with dogs AND all that rope.

Once we arrived at the shore, those wonderful, well-behaved dogs sat atop the boulders, never moved and watched the creek action.

Most of the action involved Bill wading through the creek to retrieve my spinner which found every rock it could to avoid work.

Well, on one cast, it had to work as a "lunker," all of maybe two inches long and so small you could see through it grabbed my hook.

That led to the next creek fording for Bill. Come and take that fish off the hook.

Well, when he got started my way and it looked like a long time until he'd make it over to me across the creek, I said, "This fish is gonna be ten inches long by the time you get here."

Bill agreed.

In the moment immediately afterward, I think the minnow sensed trouble, so it removed ITSELF from the hook, saving Bill the trip across the stream.

That ended up being my fish for 2019, and I'm betting that I may have caught the world's record for the smallest brook trout ever hooked.

All the time, the dogs sat in their perch, watching and not saying a word about Mom who sure doesn't seem to be very good at fishing.

And, patient Bill did everything he could to make my Lightning Creek fishing a success.

It may not have been very successful in real anglers' minds, but the well-behaved pups, the tasty sandwich, the patient husband and all that beauty.

Couldn't be beat for a late August afternoon.

Plus, the ride to and from was pretty too.

And, that Foster? He was a trooper from start to finish cuz he got to ride shotgun.

Happy Wednesday.

P.S. On the Annie front, I sent her a photo of her Foster while she was staying at the best albergue in Portugal, just in case she was showing this cute Portuguese pup too much LOVE.