Now, for the first part of the year I had been quite preoccupied with other things in life and forgot all about my priorities. Then it happened.

I got a call from Bill, an old fishing buddy of mine, telling me he had caught a steelhead out at the hatchery. That was all the encouragement I needed. I quickly went and purchased my fishing license and steelhead/salmon tags.

With tags firmly in hand I made way for the river at blinding speeds, but I figured I would take my dog Gracie, a German shorthair, down to the river with me.

With a bag of shrimp thawing out, we made it down to the river about 1 p.m. I tied her up with about 50 feet of rope to run around while I was out fishing. Looking back, I should have tied her just 20 feet.

As soon as I got a good takedown bite, and I mean this fish had hammered my bait, I ran down to my pole to set the hook and fight a fish, as any angler would. But there was Gracie, between me and my pole, just sitting there smiling and panting as if to say, “I know you want to catch that fish but I was sitting here first.”

As I went barreling down the hill to grab my pole, Gracie was in my way. So what would any fisherman do in this situation? Hurdle the dog.

It’s no secret; I’m not exactly the smallest guy out there, but a sitting dog stands about a foot and a half tall so that’s how I justified my jumping ability. What I didn’t figure into the mix is that with me running forward, she had somewhat weakened her resolve to stay put and in mid-jump she decided to stand up.

Now, having expected to jump only a foot-and-a-half of canine and suddenly having a hurdle twice that height, I fell directly on my face. I looked up to see my bobber go completely still and my dog sitting about five feet away, no doubt laughing at me and my demise.

That was my only bite that day and the last time Gracie gets to go fishing. At least with a long rope.

Ron Farmer is a Hermiston resident and avid outdoorsman. He can be reached via e-mail at superbee_hemisrule@hotmail.com.