I am a vegetarian, an environmentalist, and an animal rights activist, but I love fly fishing. I love wading into streams and rivers. I love finding weird bones, rocks, and clay deposits. I love sitting with my dog on the bank among the sword ferns, under the dripping Douglas Fir trees and watching a fish inspect my attempt at insect impressions. I look so hard into the water to see beyond the ripples and foam that the backs of my eyes ache and I have to close them. I am a failure at skipping stones and when I try Maple jumps after them and ducks her head under the water just long enough to realize that she doesn't much care for swimming, and just long enough for me to get nervous that she might get swept away by the stronger current in the deeper part of the stream. For some reason Maple never learned to swim properly, and only uses three of her four appendages. Her front two paws paddle madly in the typical doggy fashion. Her rear legs however, only work at half their potential, with her right one tucked gently against her body. I wonder sometimes if Maple's lack of water prowess is a fault of my parenting, or a breed issue that I have no control over. Either way I find this trait highly endearing.
