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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1522139-The-Fishing-Story
Rated: E · Short Story · Children's · #1522139
A short story about a girl, her best friend and a favorite fishing hole.



                                                                                                             Chap. 2
                                                 Janie and Boy, The Fishing Trip
         The bright light from the rising sun beamed through Janie’s window on this fine Saturday morning, awakening her from her sleep and introducing itself to her. The scent of moist honeysuckles floated in the air, carried along by the gentle spring breeze flowing through her open window. Rubbing her eyes, Janie sat up and pushed back the worn quilt  that covered her.  She tip toed quietly to the window and peered outside. The view was breathtaking! Great, tall trees with their leaves rustling gently in the breeze, seemed to be waving “Good Morning” to her. She smiled back her appreciation of their greeting and continued to listen to all of the morning’s wake up calls. She heard old grand pa rooster’s “cock a doodle doo” from the chicken pen, alerting the other chickens to this new day. The hens clucked annoyingly in answer to his announcement.  Janie, tickled by the clamor, giggled in delight as she watched them all flap their wings and squawk loudly. She loved mornings here, although each day dawned so familiar, each new day also gave Janie the chance to enjoy many new adventures with her ever abiding companion and loyal dog, Boy.
         Remembering that Boy would be waiting for her in their “playhouse”, she slipped her nightgown off over her head, retrieved a tattered pair of overalls from her drawer and grabbed an old shirt. Reaching into her sock drawer, she pulled out a pair of blue socks that were frayed badly around the tops and decorated in the soles by several small holes which had resulted from their frequent washing and  many wearings. She sighed softly as she unfolded the socks and proceeded to pull them over her feet, one at a time. Standing up once more, she walked over to the mirror that was hanging on the wall above her bureau. Peering into it, she looked at herself and laughed. Her long, unruly hair hung in tresses, meshed into loose curls from her slumber during the night. Her eyes had a slight puffiness around them from being shut so tightly as she slept, and yes, there they were, those impudent little freckles that covered her face like a blanket. She began the task of taming her hair first, brushing the long curls back away from her face and fastening them all securely in a ribbon. Pouring some cool water into her wash basin, she splashed her sleepy face awake with the coolness of the water.
         As she opened her bedroom door to walk downstairs, the aroma of strong coffee and bacon visited her nose, guiding her steps as she walked. She smiled, recognizing the smell, as her stomach growled noisily, announcing it’s emptiness. Mr. and Mrs. Thyme were already up and as she entered the kitchen, their familiar smiles greeted her kindly. “Good Morning” she said politely and pulled out her chair. Around the table, the other orphan children Janie shared this home with, were eagerly eating their breakfast and preparing for their day also. As usual, Janie began to eat quickly, but she placed every other bite into her napkin for Boy. She had been doing this for many months by now but no one at the table ever seemed to notice. Finishing her last bite, she picked up her empty plate and placed it in the dish pan. Her next stop would be at the chicken coupe to feed the noisy chickens.
         She hurried through the backdoor and trotted toward the old shed. Retrieving the corn mash from the burlap sack that held it, she opened the gate to the pen and entered slowly, calling the chickens as she stepped inside. “Here chicky, chicky chick” she called out to them.  The chickens responded to her calls with their excited noisy pecking, as she threw the mash out onto the ground. She hurriedly filled the water troughs for them also, and then she rushed out of the pen. It was Saturday and that meant that she could spend all day with Boy. Today she was going to take him fishing at their favorite spot.
         After she finished her other morning chores, Janie jogged quickly down the familiar, worn path toward the old tree that she and Boy used as their playhouse. As she scurried along the trail, she thought about Boy and just how much she loved him. Yes, he was her wonderful, true friend, and the friendship they shared together gave her the only happiness she had ever known, in her short twelve years of life. He was always happy to see her, welcoming her with wet, sloppy kisses. As she bent down to hug him tightly around his neck, they would greet each other joyfully, and Boy would initiate her by sharing his “doggy smell” affectionately with her, making them truly a team. Her excitement grew as she neared her destination and her thoughts of “Boy” made her even more anxious to see him. Yep! Today, Janie was taking him to the creek to fish and she could hardly wait to tell him! After all, Boy was quite the fisherman and he loved every opportunity that he could show off!
         As Janie neared the old tree, Boy heard the snapping of the twigs under her feet and he bolted toward her. “Boy!” Janie called out excitedly to him, as he ran toward her. “Come on Boy!”  she repeated excitedly to him, as she slapped her hands on her thighs, motioning him to her. He answered her by flinging his whole “doggy” body into her open, waiting arms. His weight toppled her to the ground and the two of them frolicked there on a bed of dry leaves. Yes, Boy was everything to this lonely little girl, and she was everything to him. Together, they were each other’s family.
         After their initial romp, Janie sat up on the ground and lifted up the rusty can that held the worms, for Boy to inspect. Boy licked the cool tin can with appreciation, his eyes reflecting an anticipation for the upcoming fishing trip that he and Janie would soon share. “I’ve got some real fat, juicy ones today Boy”, she explained. “We will probably catch alot of fish with them!” Her excitement at this prospect was obvious from the gleam twinkling in her eyes.
         A few minutes later, Janie reached behind some small brush that surrounded their tree house and pulled out two long sticks with a length of fishing line dangling from one end of each of them. A small hook was tied neatly onto each line making the poles ideal for catching fish. Boy wagged his tail in excitement and barked loudly at Janie. He seemed to be saying, “Let’s go!”
         Eagerly they began hiking down the path toward the creek. Janie carried the fishing poles and the can of worms, while Boy walked ahead pushing the stray limbs back with his body, clearing the way for Janie, protectively. When they arrived at the edge of the creek, Janie sat down and beckoned Boy to join her. She pulled out the napkin that held Boy’s breakfast and gave it to him. He ate quickly and walked to the water to get a drink. While Boy drank his fill of the refreshing water, Janie proceed to bait the hooks. If there was a draw back to bringing Boy fishing, this was it. She always had to bait his hook for him, which doubled the amount of worm goo she got on her own fingers. But, she thought to herself, he’s worth it!
         After she threaded both hooks with the wriggling bait, she handed Boy his pole and he grasped it in his mouth. She threw his line out into the water for him, while he laid down on the bank, patiently waiting for a bite. His big brown eyes twinkled as he peered across the water toward the spot where his hook had sank down. Janie then threw her on line out and the two kindred spirits joined each other in an exercise of patience. She placed her arm across the back of her companion and she received a wet lick in return for her gesture. So it was, with the warm spring sunshine glistening across the water, they waited in  silence for the fish to come to dinner.
         Suddenly, Boy leaped up, pulling back on the pole he held tightly between his teeth. He began to back up slowly, away from the water’s edge and Janie could see the tension in his fishing line. “You got one, Boy!” she exclaimed. “You got one!” she repeated. Grabbing the fishing line in her hands, Janie helped Boy pull the line out of the water and toward the shore. “It’s a big one!” she shouted, as Boy continued to pull on the line with her. His eyes glimmered and sparkled, reflecting his excitement over his catch.  Finally, the pair pulled the fish onto shore and inspected it closely. The fish was a large one, weighing about three pounds, Janie thought, making her guess silently. He looked about a foot long to Janie, “good eatin’ size”, as they say. “Oh Boy!” she exclaimed again, patting Boy’s head, and realizing that Boy had really done himself proud. While the fish flopped around on the grass, Janie gave Boy a big hug and kissed his wet, cold nose. “You are great!” she told him between the kisses she was planting between his ears, on his soft fur. Boy wagged his tail with complete abandonment, thumping the ground loudly. He was almost as grateful for the kisses as he was for his catch. Janie knew she would have to record this fishing trip in her journal  tonight, along with all of the other stories about the adventures she and Boy shared. Janie treasured her journals and the stories they contained on their written pages, because anytime she felt too alone, she could read some “company” into her life.
         Janie returned her attention to the floundering fish still flopping on the ground. She reached behind his gills and gripped him tightly in one hand, while her fingers lifted the hook from his lip. She placed the fish on an extra length of fishing line she had brought, and placed him back into the edge of the water, where he could wait, while she and Boy continued to fish. Watching the fish swim around just under the surface of the water, Janie could see her own reflection beaming a bright smile back at her. Behind her, Boy’s reflection could be seen also,  with his two large ears, his black, wet nose and his loosely wagging pink tongue. Janie giggled at their picture in the water and then she turned and embraced Boy lovingly. A few minutes later, with his hook baited once more, the pair took up their original position and waited again.
          The afternoon slipped slowly past and the stringer filled with fish. Boy, caught five fish altogether, while Janie had only managed to catch two fish. The sun was sinking lazily in the sky, alerting Janie that it was time to go. She looked toward Boy who was still diligently holding his pole between his teeth. Although she hated to interrupt him, she knew that they must prepare to leave for home. She gathered their poles, along with the seven fish now laced on their stringer, and the old rusty worm can, which was now empty, into her arms to carry it all home. Calling Boy over to her side, the two of them set off down the path  together. After they walked a few feet, Janie looked at Boy, smiled lovingly at him and said,  “Next time, you dig the worms.”


Catherine
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1522139-The-Fishing-Story