Sit Ubu, Sit!

Today, riding home from Champ's Clock Shop, we passed by Coursey Lake.  Well, what was left of it anyways.  Back last year when we had the flood, the dam broke and the lakes just emptied out.  It was a pitiful sight, I hated to see it like that.  One of my favorite stories about Ray is centered around that lake.  I never really tell ya'll too many stories about ol' RayRay so strap yourselves in, this is a good'un.

Back in 1990 Ray and I sold the double wide we had been living in for the past 4 years and moved in with his parents while we saved up a down payment on a house.  If we had been smart we would have been saving all along instead of playing  so much, but then I wouldn't have some of these  stories to tell you now would I?
Either way, we moved in with Pat and Chuck to save money, and actually ended up living there about a year.  We had not been on our own so long that moving back in with parents was intolerable, but we had been gone long enough that we came to appreciate the privacy we no longer had.

Ray and I got in the habit of spending quite a bit of time outside the house and one day he came home from work and asked me if I wanted to go fishing with him over at Coursey Lake.  Well, he didn't have to ask me twice, he coulda said we were going to the dump to shoot rats and I would have been game!  So we gather up poles, tackle box and Ubu, our german shepherd and off we go.  Ubu, used to go with us everywhere, even Walmart.  She never went inside, but she would sit out in the truck and anxiously await our return.

So, here we go, off to drown some worms, 'cept we didn't use worms, not real ones anyway.  Ray was very excited that day because he was going to get the opportunity to use a lure he had just bought, to the tune of $5.   Now a days $5 won't even pay for a lipstick from the grocery store, back then to my little pea brain it seemed like a luxury since we were supposed to be saving up for a down payment. Now this lure I have to admit sure was pretty, just not $5 dollars worth of pretty.  It was about 4 inches long and had 3 treble hooks on it.  (The better to hook the little fishies with my dear.)  But I still wasn't impressed.

We arrive at our destination,   Ray schleps his chiffarobe sized tackle box over to where he planned to set up our temporary fish camp and proceeds to tie this baby onto his line.  He then finds what he is sure is going to be a sweet spot in the lake and makes that first cast.  Nothing.  Throw, reel, throw, reel, and we make our way slowly around the perimeter of the lower lake.  Around cast 6 Ray throws a particularly beautiful cast that lands his lure right in the center of a tree stump protruding from the murky depths of the lake.  He tugs and then starts muttering to himself, tugs, cusses a little bit, then gives a big ol' yank.  Yep, that snapped the line and there sat his lure on top of the stump winking at us like leprechaun sitting on a pot of gold.

Luckily, a sweet little old man was fishing from a john boat, he saw our dilemma and went on over and plucked that lure right up and handed it over to Ray.  I told him that he might want to think about trying a little something different this go round since the fish didn't find his lure no where near as appetizing as he thought they should.  He gave me one of those "Hush Woman" looks and went to tying it back on his pole.

Here we go again, and in the same spot I might add.  Throw, reel, throw, reel.  Oooops, danged if that sucker didn't get snagged on that stump AGAIN.  What are the chances?! ( Since this was the same guy that had sprained an ankle and  broken both wrists at the same time while  racing motorcross two summers before, I have to believe better than average.)  Here goes the muttering and yanking AGAIN.  Line breaks, AGAIN, sweet little man fetches lure, AGAIN.  You seeing a pattern here folks?

Ray thanks the man (AGAIN) and I ask him if he was gonna be a slow learner and tie that thing on one more time, because if he was planning that he may as well hand it to me so I could pitch in the middle of the lake and be done with it.  (I think that's the secret to the success of our marriage, me being so helpful.)  He just gave me a dirty look and says c'mon let's go around this way some and I will put this away and find something else to throw for awhile.

Thank gawwwd.  If he had tied that back on I was going to have to rethink pro-creating with this fella, there was no way I was going to bring a passel of slow learners into the world.  How does the saying go?  Life is hard, it's even harder if your stupid.  Anyway, big strong, smart man lays that high dollar play pretty on top of the tackle box and opens one of the little drawers on the front to find himself something else to throw.  Now y'all think I'm exaggerating when I say this deal was a chiffarobe, I'm not!  It stood about 20  inches high and was around 18 inches long and maybe 10 inches deep.  There was a drawer or two on the front at the bottom and when you opened the top a shelf lifted out and you could throw all manner of crap down inside of it.  It was quite the production.

Now Ubu, I bet yall forgot she was with us on this little adventure didn't you?  Well, she was hanging around pretty close this whole time.  The minute Ray laid that lure on top of the tackle box, she went over to check it out.  Next thing I know she has snuffed one of the treble hooks clean up her nose, it just hanging right there hooked to the edge.  Bwahhgghhh, gives me the shivers telling the story.

The dog yelps, I yelp and Ray drops his fishing pole when he sees what the dog has hung on her nose.  He then decides the best thing to do is straddle her and I think he is planning to see if he can work the hook off the edge of her nostril.  You see upon closer examination it is just barely hanging there on the edge, but hooked there nonetheless.

So here is Ray, straddling Ubu's neck, they are both facing me and Ray is kinda crouched down and has the dogs head right where he wants it.  He presses his thighs together a little to try and immobilize her since he has decided, unbeknownst to me or the dog, to literally snatch the lure out.

I have to tell you, he didn't get the chance.  He applied pressure to her neck with his legs, she panicked and yanked her herself out from between his legs backwards and successfully snatched the lure out of her own nose and sunk it into his thigh all in one fell swoop.  If I'm lying I'm dying!!!

Ubu ran over to the edge of the lake which was about 6 feet away, got a quick drink and was like a new dog.  Ray on the other hand was still kinda crouched over with a weird look on his face.  He then says, "I need you to help me, this thing is hooked in my leg".  Uh oh.  For real?  It's not just hooked on your jeans?  Then he starts to get all huffy and says yes, I'm sure, it's hooked in  my leg!  Well, okkkk, wotcha need me to do?  He starts to straighten up and that is when we both realize that when he got hooked he was crouched low over the dogs neck and the hooks were through his jeans and sunk into his flesh and had pinned the fabric in place all bunched up in a crouched position.  Weren't we in a pickle!

Ray says take the pliers and see if you can work the hook out of me.  So picture this, I'm on the ground, on my knees facing Ray's crotch, he is bent at the waist with one hand on top of my head to help him balance, because his knees are bent much the same way they were when he was straddling the dog.  I don't even want to know what the sweet little man was thinking out on the john boat in the middle of the lake.  (You know he had to of seen us, it's not a thought, it's a feeling).

I then realize, it's futile.  I can't see the hook for all the fabric bunched up around it.  That's when I suggest he take his pants off as far as he can so I can see if I can do anything from the inside of the pant leg.  Ray says nope, can't do that, see if I have anything we can cut these jeans with.  Cut your jeans!  No way buddy, there ain't nobody out here but me, you, the dog and that little old man; wave to the man, I ain't cutting a hole in these jeans.

Well, I have to tell you he wasn't making any sense.  I said Ray, I'm not cutting these jeans, take the blasted things off.  He said, nope, can't do it.  Well for heavens sake why NOT?!  That is when he says; "Cause I'm not wearing any drawers."  Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  I recover a split second later and fall over laughing.  Ray gets tickled too and he gingerly makes his way to the ground and we have a good laugh.  I think by that time the little old man has decided that is indeed not a tackle box, but a cooler full of beer and we are knee walkin' drunk.

I finally dig a rusty old knife out of the bottom of that monstrosity and cut his pants leg open so he can straighten up.  We snip the other two treble hooks off the lure and make our way back around to the truck and head to the house were we proceed to do a little Granny Clampett doctoring on his leg.

Well folks, all's well that ends well.  Now, don't forget, before you leave the house, always make sure you have on clean underwear, especially if you’re going fishing!