The other night we gathered our fishing poles, tackle box, and Shasta, and headed down to the lake with full intentions of bringing home the next night's dinner. We walked down on to the fishing pier, loaded up the poles with bait, and turned around to notice poor Shasta crouched low and shaking like a leaf in the wind. I didn't think about her being so scared of the dock moving, especially since she does so well when the motorhome is moving.
Poor thing! I won't let her catch a squirrel, chase a deer, or clobber a jack rabbit. Then to make matters worse, I get her seasick!
No, we didn't catch any fish. Went out early this morning with high hopes again. No fish. Here's the really rude thing. The fish were jumping out of the water! Laughing at us! Humph! I'm thinking we weren't offering anything of interest to them. Okay, at the bait shop the owner said that they (the fish) love hot dogs. So we'll go back out this evening and try that. One man said he used chicken livers to catch bass. Who knew?