As a fitting reminder to how stupid it was to go fishing in 50 mph winds last week, when I’d opened my trucks door the wind caught and hyper-extended it buckling the front quarter panel; with an audible “pop”!? Followed immediately with an audible:
“Mother #x&@….” from yours truly
…Now, as I make short trips to and from the local market I’m reminded of the fruitless day when we ventured after bloody catch-and-release trout during a phenomenal midge hatch, where I couldn’t even get the line to land in the water; by the deafening wind sounds entering my truck’s cab and drowning out the radio because of a permanently ruined seal of my driver’s side door?!
“Mother #x&@….”
When the cursing at myself becomes too much, Suzie will sit-up in the passenger seat, cock her little head, and reach over and lay her paw on my forearm; which always has a calming effect on me and I apologize to both her and Mocha - assuring them: “it’s not you who I’m cursing at, but myself?”
This seems to work and they lay back down and I’ll tune in a better song and crank it up louder than the wind and that damned cold draft hitting the left side of my stupid assed head which is empty because I went to try and catch a mother #x&@……
Then Suzie will sit up again and we’ll go thru this scenario a half-dozen times until we get home.
Her gesture is about the kindest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s a mixture of an old trick of “high-five” I taught her as a puppy and whatever else goes on in that cute little head of hers when she wants me to calm down while I’m driving her around doing 70 miles per-hour and cursing at myself.
…Because of this I have refused to go fishing until the wind dies down a bit, the bite picks up considerably, …and am making far fewer trips locally just the same.
Moe
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