Dam it dog, where's my bait

Fathers day, on a sunny Sunday 2000, the birds were singing and the bee's were, well, what ever bees do on a sunny day. the wife said to me, how about going for a walk with the kids and dogs.

Ok, you take the kids and dogs and I'll take a rod, "don't like this walking thing, sort of wears you out". so off to the bloody bridge at Newcastle we went, wife, kids, dogs and a rod.

Parked up the motor and I said to the wife, right I'm off fishing at the big rocks, you are in charge off the rest, have a nice long walk, and we parted on our separate ways.

About 30 minutes pasted and out of the corner off my eye I noticed this liver "brown" and white pile of wet fur walking over towards me. I continued to reel in the line to re-bait with more fresh, or should I say, near fresh prawns. I looked in the direction of the wet fur thing, still coming towards me, yip, it was my dog Gonzo, a fully trained ESS gun dog. Over he came, sat down beside where I was fishing and after a few minutes, watched my cast of a "float rig" back into the water.

Now bear in mind, this is a fully trained gun dog, not a fishing dog, "if there is such a thing" he springs into action, checks where the long black thing is pointing, and jumps into the water for a retrieve, un-noticed by me is two things, one, is two seagulls sitting in the water about 50 yards out, two, Hollie, our other Spaniel, who had seen all this moving and going's on, had also decided to make a retrieve. Out they swam to the sitting birds, which birds, just being birds, just simply flew off.

Gonzo, Hollie, don't be so bloody daft, and get back here, stupid dogs, have you two forgotten that birds fly, I shouted at them as they returned and climbed up the rocks to sit beside me. Hup there Gonzo, "hup means to these two, sit there and don't move, till I say different" Hup there Hollie, one long very wet shake "for me" from both and down they sat.

With all the shouting from me, I had managed to miss a bite, "I think" the float was again floating, so reel it in to re-bait, at this point Gonzo decided "food" and started to eat the bait, ah dog "get out of it, leave it" now at this point, Hollie, who by nature is a soft dog, and only half trained, had decided "I'm off" and away she went back to my kids, some 100 yards up the beach "rocks is more like it" I turned round picked up the rod to cast, oh shit, small problem, Gonzo had ate more bait "to him food" which just happened to have a fishing hook in it. "Kamasan B940 2/0, my preferred hook for fishing off the rocks" I gripped him by the neck, and shouted to the wife, to come down to where I was at.

Down she came, telling me to keep the noise down and asking what was wrong, bloody stupid dog has ate the bait, So!, came the reply, what's wrong with that? I lifted the flowing trace, showing her the line going down Gonzo's throat and complaining that, it was the best bite all day, but as she could see, it wasn't a fish.

Ok, Ok, cut the line, give him more bait, more bait? Yes, came the snapped answer and get him home and I will give him a good feed, the dog was better feed then me for the next two days, but nature took its time and 47 hours later, one Kamasan B940 2/0 reappeared.

So the moral to this is. Gun dogs for shooting, fishing should be in peace and quiet.

Gonzo Hollie one day out shooting.

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