Late afternoon fishing with my husband, Clay…Rowdy & I aren’t exactly fishing buddies per se. We are more like fishing companions.
Gently floating, I kick up my feet, watching the sunset and reading the book I brought along. Rowdy watches the ducks float by, investigates the fish Dads caught and naps.
Clay, well he’s an oft overgrown child, threatening to drag the fish over me while placing them in the live well behind my seat, trying to get me to touch them, take them off his hook and giggling at me in childish delight at my disgust.
He actually went so far as to drop a fish on the floor of the boat and simply go back to fishing, knowing that would get my goat for sure!
And it did! “Uh, you need to get that fish and put it in the live well.” He just smirks. “Clay! You need to put that fish in the live well. Don’t just leave it there suffering!” (There you have it. This is who I am. Critters rights activist)
Again he smirks and says…”I guess you’re going to have to pick it up and put it in there yourself.”
They say that nobody likes a smartass….but I guess Clay does. He married one.
I didn’t like it, but telling fish to be still, (which further cracks Clay up) I did pick up the fish……and dropped it right back into the lake! 😂
Guess mister smarty pants won’t be asking me to pick up anymore fish.
NOTE: After all, it’s called fishing right? Not catching! Lol