The Fishing Adventures of Brody & Murphy

Bright eyed and waiting for the sun to come up, Brody lay in bed at her grandparents house. She had much trouble falling asleep the night before, full of excitement for the day that followed. Brody and her granny would be fishing for the largest of catfish at daybreak.

They loaded the little red wagon the night before. Cane poles, the old green tackle box and a few lawn chairs. The worms, well they would spend the night in the refrigerator and serve their purpose later.

Brody spent all school year anticipating summer vacation just like every other kid. Except she knew that her summer vacation was truly something special.

Brody’s summers were spent in Trinity with her granny. Granny, ever the adventurer. Brody’s grandaddy passed away when she was a baby.

Murphy enjoyed spending the summers with Granny as much as Brody. You see, the three of them had a very special bond. Two summers ago, Granny and Brody were on  another morning adventure. Little did they know it would be the grandest of adventures.

Through the woods, past the pond and all the way to the pasture where the longhorns lived. Before the Longhorns were in sight, Brody and Granny heard the faintest of whimpers. Each looking at the other in bewilderment.

They followed the whimpers making sure to have the the softest of feet. They didn’t want to scare whatever it was away. The whimpers led them to the trunk of knottiest of ole oak tree. Curled up and shivering was the tiniest of puppies they had ever seen. In an effort not to spook the pup, Brody knelt down quietly and whispered, “you’re gonna be ok puppy.”

Granny stood off to the side and watched.

Brody reached behind the shivering ball of matted fur and gently scooped it up with the tiniest of hands. The puppy didn’t put up a fight. Brody pulled the puppy close.

Granny  stood off to the side and watched.

Brody’s hands were shaking but lovingly warming the tiniest of puppies.

The longhorns weren’t visited that moring. Brody wondered if they would miss her. Granny and Brody had other things to take care of that day, however. Back to the the house they went. 

Once home, Granny took over. She gently took the tiniest of puppies and wrapped it in a towel, nice and warm from the dryer. Not many words were exchanged between the two, just moments and glances. After an afternoon of nursing and a proper cleaning, the tiniest of puppies appeared  happy.

It lapped the warm milk, lickety split and then fell asleep on Brody’s lap. Brody had a new friend. She decided she would call the tiniest of pups, Murphy. This is  the  summer that the adventures of Brody and Murphy began.

The sun would be up in a matter of minutes. Brody would make sure she was dressed and ready to go. Granny always said, “the fish bite at daybreak, before the water gets too hot and the sun too high.”

Murphy was anxious too!

Stirring in the back bedroom alerted Brody and Murphy that the adventure was just moments away.

Granny emerged wearing a pale pink cotton shirt with blue jeans, of course. That pink shirt setting off Granny’s blue eyes. She would slip into her rubber boots on the way out the screen door. Oh, how Brody loved the sound  that ‘ole screen door made when she gave it a shove.  C R E A K…

Do you want some cereal? No mam, let’s get out there before the water gets too hot and the sun gets too high. The simplest of conversations.

Worms in hand, Brody gave that ‘ole screen door a loving shove. C R E A K… Murphy barely made it through before the door slapped against it’s frame.

Granny grabbed the very worn handle of the little red wagon and off they went. Down the shell road to their secret fishing hole. Three friends headed on yet another adventure.

Sun still low and water just right, Brody threaded a juicy worm on her hook just like her granny had shown her many summers ago. The two talked about the big orange bobber and whether it should be higher or lower. Finally, after much back and forth, Brody dropped her line in the muddy ‘ole fishing hole.

How would the largest of catfish  see her worm in the muddiest of water, she wondered. Meanwhile, Murphy found a nice shady to spot to lay down. Her nap was cut short by the squeals of excitement coming from Brody.

She must have found the right depth because on the other end of her line was a monster. The largest of catfish.

The big orange bobber disappeared and had not resurfaced again. The cane pole was bending this way and that way. Brody was afraid she was going to let go of the pole. Granny wasn’t too much help. You see, Granny never got too close to the bank. Granny never learned how to swim. Brody was left to her own devices.

Granny always told her, don’t horse ‘em, just let ‘em play themselves out. Granny had caught the biggest of fish. Granny must be right.

Brody with feet apart, anchored on the bank,  let it play itself out just like her Granny had many times.

Swimming to the left, shaking its’ head. Swimming to the right. Swimming straight towards the bank and suddenly turning to the right. Brody could hardly contain her excitement. She closed her eyes and let the biggest of fish get tired.

After what seemed like forever, it finally surfaced.



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