I wrote this in the summer of 98 in a thread called "Dorf Goes Fishing."
I was teaching my kids how to cast out on the lawn with one of those stupid Donald Duck push-button fishing rods. The rod comes with a little rubber "weight" so Jr. won't impale himself on a hook and wind up in the emergency room. I'm casting and the family dog, a nasty little terrier named Harry, decides that the rubber weight is EVIL and must be destroyed as it bounces over the grass when I reel it in. The kids get a laugh out of the dog going bananas, so I keep casting the little two-foot rod over and over, teasing the dog but not letting him get a hold of the weight. Finally the dog succeeds, grabs the weight swallows the weight and takes off, putting 40-pounds of dog fight into the rod. The kids can't breathe they're laughing so hard. I'm fighting the dog (unaware that the rubber sinker is heading for the dog's stomach) and marvelling at what a crummy drag the Donald Duck reel has. The dog whips back and forth across the yard, line coming out of the corner of his mouth like a hairy marlin, having a great time, but digesting two ounces of rubber. We live on Main Street near the town center and there's a pretty steady flow of pedestrians going by on the sidewalk in front of the house. In the middle of the fight two ladies stop to watch the commotion. "Is that dog hooked?" one asks like I am the worst man in the world. "Yup. Fights like a keeper," says me. "You should help the poor dog." She makes a move up the driveway. One of the kids tells her, " The dog stops, does this slinky kind of move with his back, the old Dog's-gonna-barf move, then makes a really loud "CACK!" and barfs up the sinker along with a hunk of wet grass, lunch and who knows what else. dcc