George, as it turns out, loves to fish.
A lot.
It's almost a clinical obsession requiring a combination of medication and intense therapy. Since Dr. Phil wasn't in Ely, Minnesota during our trip, we had no other choice but to enable his addiction by fishing off the dock. In past trips, he has stared so intently at the bobber that he's fallen off the dock and into the water. Now George is a big boy and has all of the swimming characteristics of an anvil. He wasn't deterred though. He struggled to shore - splashing away - and scrambled back on to the dock to resume his hunt.
He's almost 10 now, so we figure whatever makes him happy makes us happy too.
Here are some shots of him in action:
"Heeere fishy fishy!"
"Whoa! Slippery when wet! And there's a fish on my head! Ack!"
"Wait! Now what?"
"Oh yeah. Now I remember. Fishsickles!"
"Fish-licking is quite exhausting. I must nap now in front of the fire with my blankie and my four dog beds."
"There have got to be fish in the waterfall behind us. What are we doing just sitting here?"
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