Better late than never, might be the best way to characterize this fishing report. I have lived next door to my neighbors Bob, and his wife Sue for over three years. For much of that time, we have talked about getting him out on the boat for a few hours of river smallie fishing. He used to do some inshore fishing when he was a much younger man, while he lived in his home state of New York, but it has been well over thirty years, since he last wet a line. I was saddened to hear that he was going to move back to New York, due to the recent and unfortunate passing of Sue. We discussed putting together a farewell trip for him. The Little Pigeon has been fishing well for the past couple of weeks, so I was reasonably confident I could put him on the fish, and make a memory or two. A couple of those memories happened right out of the gate. I pulled up to, and anchored at our first spot. I made a cast for Bob to give him an idea where he needed to place his subsequent casts. I handed him the rod, and turned my head for just a few seconds. I started rifling through my tackle bag, and to my surprise, when I turned back around his rod was severely bent, with the tip quivering in that unmistakable manner that says this is a fish not a snag. I told him to set the hook, and after a spirited battle, I slid the net under a beautiful nineteen inch three pound seven ounce smallie. The picture of Bob, and that fish, are included in this report. He made his second cast, and as he slowly retrieved the bait, I saw his rod jerk sharply downward near the transom. Bob was hooked up again, and as I peered down in the water to look for color, I saw a lighter colored fish starting to materialize from the depths. It was a largemouth, and a pretty good one, that measured sixteen inches on the nose. Two casts and two fish. Not only two fish, but two species of fish he had never caught before in his life. The fun continued, and after three hours of fishing, he caught thirteen smallies and one largemouth. Three out of the fourteen were between nineteen and twenty inches. The weather was beautiful, and the fish cooperated making it a great afternoon on the water. Bob has a dog, by the name of Socks. He looks like he is a mix between beagle, basset, and other indistinguishable breeds. He is my little buddy, and when he hears me outside cleaning or working on my boat he “asks” Bob to go outside, so I can give him treats. I have a bag of Pupperoni on hand, and give him his treats as long as he complies with my commands of “Sit” and “Paw”. And of course, if he doesn’t, he gets his treats, regardless of his performance. He is a sweet dog. I am always on the look out for him, and hope that he will appear on their fenced in porch when I go outside. I hate to see them go. However, I am glad that we finally got the opportunity to spend some quality time on the water. Godspeed Bob and Socks. You will be missed….