A 10-year-old mutt, Chloe had an instant love for the boat and fishing as a puppy. I don’t know if it’s a hunting instinct, or if she is just the perfect dog for me and our family, but she is intense when the fishing begins. As Scott Haddow, the owner of this fine publication once succinctly put it, “that dog demands a constant pace.”
If you try to set your rod down for a moment, Chloe will quickly protest, : always a stare down accompanied by an urgent bark or two. And repeat. The only way she’ll stop is if you make another cast or run the boat. And by running the boat, I mean to head to the next spot at top speed, or the barking ensues. Fishing or boating top speed, there is no in- between for Chloe.
The words fish and boat need be whispered or spelled out in our home lest Chloe hear. Otherwise it’s straight to the door, ears perked, prancing in place, ready to go, same thing if you so much as touch a fishing rod or tackle box.
When my frequent fishing partner Jeff Crowell comes to town from Manitoulin Island, Chloe goes into fishing mode, just as she does whenever we cross the swing bridge heading for Jeff’s.
Fishing tournament days are difficult in our home. They start with a heartbreaker when she is told she can’t come along as I gather some gear. Her ears and head drop and she slowly turns and goes back to bed with my wife Colleen. But then she can hear me hook up the boat from inside the house and the wailing begins. Colleen is left to console her.
However, it is rare that Chloe misses a fishing jaunt. She is the only female ever to attend our annual guys’ fishing trip. Going into our 25th year with the same group guys this June, this year will mark Chloe’s 10th trip, and she is considered part of the crew now.
Nearly every fish photo I have, be it of myself or a friend with a fish, Chloe is somewhere in the frame, her fishing photo-bomber skills unmatched as far as I have witnessed.