Today’s Fish Tale

The aftermath of the dogs eating the beach fish wasn’t pretty but it could have been worse. I heard it being cleaned up by my partner. I busied myself elsewhere.

I swear, when we were walking our dogs yesterday morning and they came upon a big fish on the beach, it was laid out like a smoked salmon at a wedding buffet. Why is this big beautiful, halved fish so perfectly arranged in the sand? I thought this, also thinking that one could take a tiny fork and take each perfect morsel and put it on a cracker.

Alas, it was probably less than perfect as beach fish are wont to be. There is a reason why a fish is laying split apart fifty feet from the lake where, at some point in time, it had been swimming its life, don’t you please. I don’t have an explanation for any of this. I am but a laser beam for the unexplained, although I don’t care about Roswell. Oddly.

This morning, the dogs shot out of the house headed for the dead fish. Or the sand where the dead fish once laid. Or the “Shrine of the Dead Fish” which we now call it, the space having become a holy spot, the site of extraordinary blessings.

We talked about how long they will remember the “Shrine of the Dead Fish,” and we agreed it will be forever. They will forever pay homage to the extraordinary providence of nature as should we all.