A tale of tails, tides, and tiny terrorists

This week, Winnie and I set out with a simple goal: catch dinner. And catch dinner we did. But while I was proud of the smallmouth bass we landed, Winnie had a different mission — showering our finned friends with kisses. You’d have thought that crappie was her high school sweetheart, or at the very least, on a third date.

Our haul wasn’t just limited to the two decent bass we brought home; we reeled in a whole chorus line of smaller fish, enough to make any angler smile. For anyone feeling stuck this fishing season, I highly recommend trying reflective spoons or spinning lures — they’ve been my secret weapon lately.

The real adventure began when I loaded my kayak inside my Jeep and we made our way to Coffee Pot Lake. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and Winnie’s curious nose kept dipping into the water. I even took off my long-sleeve shirt to soak in some sunshine in shorts and a bathing suit. It was peaceful and perfect.

Then came a cheerful “Hey!” from the dock. I reeled in, sat up, and squinted at a waving figure I didn’t recognize at first. It wasn’t until he started trolling toward me on his small motorboat that I realized it was a good friend — one who somehow still feels like the strangest stranger I know.

My friend grabbed the kayak, Winnie happily leapt into his boat, and just then I felt a sharp sting on my chest. A wasp, right on the spot that made me pause and catch my breath. It brought back memories of a past run-in with these little buzzers — but despite the sting and the surprise, the day stayed bright.

We floated together, laughing and catching up like old friends do. Later, I paddled Winnie to a shady spot to try my luck with the bass. Winnie, channeling her inner Titanic Jack, stood proud at the bow with her ears flapping in the breeze — a sight that warmed my heart.

Then, a rogue wave rocked the kayak, and suddenly Winnie was swimming. Dachshund swimming isn’t graceful — it’s more a flurry of frantic tail-propeller paddling. Luckily, I had her tethered and pulled her back in quickly, both of us dripping but unharmed.

Just when I thought our day was winding down, Winnie decided it was time to jump back onto land — with such enthusiasm that she tipped our kayak over. We both went in, laughing, and somehow my phone and keys stayed dry. Lesson learned: Winnie’s very own life jacket is now a must.

At 23, this is the life I’ve built — a dream shaped during my years in Detroit. Instead of the city’s noise and rush, I spend my days on the water with Winnie by my side. This county’s slower pace and open space are what I worked for, especially after taking extra credits to graduate early and make this home.

Some may feel trapped here, but I know others — like I once was — long for this peace. Every wasp sting, every tiny fish, every quiet moment reminds me this place is more than home. It’s proof of the hard work behind it and a daily reminder that this life is exactly where I belong.