“Any dog who can make you smile and feel happy is a good thing to keep around, even if it isn’t a fishing dog.”
Lisa Cutter, “Under the Alders: Fishing Dogs,” California Fly Fisher, August 2014
I love my dopey little dog, even though she has no natural fishing-dog tendencies. Years ago, I took her on a recon mission to explore the Lower Yuba, a river I had never fished before. In the purest act of unwitting optimism, I set up a rod, thinking little Barky McBarkster might grant me a moment to wet a line.
What I neglected to remember was that she had never seen a river—and I didn’t think about the dump truck of stimulation it would present to little Miss Sniffy GoYappy. She must have smelled every rock. And if you know the Lower Yuba, that’s a lot of rocks. She spent almost two hours teaching me nearly every square inch of the first 310-ish yards above the Highway 20 bridge. My strung-up rod stayed strung up.
A SMALL DOG WITH BIG OPINIONS
At a flyweight 15 pounds of speculated terrier-chihuahua mix, it’s fair to say my adorable little dog is on the smallish side to be a fishing dog. She’s built more like a large cat—a large cat with a knack for barking at any waterfowl, as she proved that day on the Yuba.
My own prevailing laziness has thwarted my attempts to train her, so she earns barely passing marks for knowing “Sit,” “Find It,” and “Circus.” I had better luck training our cats, who were experts at “Sleep,” “Hiss,” and “Show Me Unrelenting Disdain.”
THE TRULY RAD FISHING DOGS
It’s my friends’ canine fishing companions that I consider truly rad. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and fishing with laid-back, McConaughey-esque labradors; a whip-smart Australian Shepherd who could probably outscore me on the SAT; and a sneaky-smart whippet who hunted wild boar on Oahu.
Okay, I didn’t fish with that pig-killing whippet named Santa’s Little Helper, but that sweet dog was super canny—and her endearing, deep-brown eyes belied the fact that she’d just as soon lick your hand before stealing your flip-flop as she would vice-grip her jaw onto a wild pig’s neck in the steamy māulukua above Honolulu. I’d strap three cartons of smokes to that dog and take her to be a fish-camp bear dog in Kamchatka—but then I’d feel bad for the Russian bears.
“Boat dogs? Yeah, those dogs are rad—like surfing dogs are rad.”
A well-trained dog always impresses me. I love seeing smart dogs in action while out with their fishing humans. I also love seeing smart dogs just lying on the shore, basking in the day, while their fishing humans cast. And boat dogs? Yeah, those dogs are rad—like surfing dogs are rad.
My buddy Philip’s barely one-year-old pup proved to be a great fishing companion on a recent striper expedition in San Francisco Bay. Even with all that puppy energy, she taught this salty old dog some new tricks (I’m about 11 in dog years, according to the new math).
IF I HAD A FISHING DOG
Like I said, I love my goofy little dog, and she does make me happy—but being around all these rad fishing dogs makes me think I’d like to have one, too. However, I know deep down that dog would have to come out of the box already rad, because my innate laziness ensures its training would degrade after any time spent with me.
In no time, it would end up knowing which bark to use at the back door after I forgot it was outside—or figuring out, after seeing me release fish after fish, that it doesn’t need to fetch the ball since I’m likely going to toss it away again anyway.
MY DREAM DOG
So what kind of dog would I like—and promise not to ruin? Clever lab? Alert, way-smarter-than-me border collie? Nope. For me, it’s the noble Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Smallish, yes—but there’s something about those posh dogs that, when I see one, makes me struggle not to embarrass myself in public with a fawning, high-pitched adoration that risks sending me into a ’70s-vintage Steve Martin “Happy Feet” dance.
The source of this dog-cuckoo, giddy response comes from when I got to dog-sit a friend’s Cav. That dog was not only a sharp-eyed squirrel spotter but also so cute he would’ve stolen the show in those saccharine Anne Geddes baby photos.
“Just seeing the words Cavalier King Charles in print makes me giggle.”
Plus, just seeing the words “Cavalier King Charles” in print makes me giggle as I picture the King of England doing something jaunty—like wearing a top hat while astride a white steed, but also fully tattooed and loudly singing in Icelandic Britney Spears’s ‘Toxic.’ That’s a lot to put on a little dog. And on the British monarchy.
HERE’S TO RAD DOGS EVERYWHERE
I can only hope the universe shines a benevolent light of fishing-dog companionship upon me and grants me a royal lapdog with whom to share this awesome sport. If so honored, I swear I’d put my laziness behind me and properly acclimate that dog to all my fishing pursuits.
I’d even resist giving it a foofy British-nobility name like Lady Diana Wagsalot and instead choose a proper fishing-dog name. A lot of good ones are already taken—Brookie, Dolly, Wooly, Bob Barker—but I haven’t met a fishing Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Humpy yet. I’m pretty sure that jaunty dog’ll fish.
SHARE YOUR FISHING DOG!
We want to see your four-legged fishing companions!
Send your favorite fishing-dog photos and a short description to info@calflyfisher.com, or tag us on Instagram @calflyfisher. Whether they’re riverbank loungers, boat deck co-captains, or rock-sniffing explorers—we think all fishing dogs are rad.
