by Steve “Tuna” Tornovish
In his 1960 book Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck chronicled his attempt to connect with the many parts of these great United States that he didn’t know much about. In order to accomplish this monumental task, the renowned author retrofitted a truck with a camper to suit his needs. He named his truck Rocinante, after Don Quixote’s horse, and drove it about 10,000 miles in the course of his adventures. Charley, a standard poodle, played the role of Sancho Panza for the great Steinbeck on his quixotic journey. Steinbeck describes his doggie/squire as being a mind-reader, an apt evaluator of the humans they met on their travels. Steinbeck utilized the friendly canine to break down the barriers between himself and the strangers he encountered, with great success. Dogs certainly have this ability.
Chris Stapleton is a contemporary country music star. He’s much more than some guy in a cowboy hat who can carry a tune. Stapleton, a Kentucky man, had moved to Nashville to study engineering at Vanderbilt. He soon gave up that endeavor as his music career began to gain traction. Stapleton’s voice is among the best in the business, and his songwriting is poignant and relatable. When his album Traveler exploded in 2015, he was an “overnight sensation,” who, of course, had been working hard at his craft for more than twenty years. His remake of the George Jones classic, “Tennessee Whiskey,” helped to open the eyes of both music fans and critics.
Mr. Stapleton’s third solo album, Starting Over, was released in 2020. It included a track called “Maggie’s Song,” the true story of a “…fuzzy black pup,” a lab/terrier mutt that Chris and his wife Morgane found in a shopping cart outside of a supermarket. The song describes how the couple told the pup, whom they named Maggie, that she was going home with them. Maggie lived with the Stapleton family for 14 years. “Maggie’s Song” describes how important Maggie was to the Stapleton crew—playing with and protecting their children, a constant and faithful companion. Inevitability, Maggie’s health failed and the Stapletons had to say goodbye. If you don’t have a tear in your eye after listening to this song, I’m not sure that I’d want to hang around with you.
Dogs are a huge part of our lives, particularly on Nantucket. As Dr. Tim Lepore often quips, “If you want a friend, get a dog!” The good doctor is being a wise guy, of course, as he says this to point out that people will let you down but your dog won’t. The good doctor practices what he prescribes, too. There are always three or so dogs in the Lepore household.
The problem with dogs is that inevitability, the knowledge that we are generally going to outlive our four-legged friends. The pain of their departures is as real as the sunrise. My wife Beth and I lived through this recently when our 14-year-old dog Penny had to leave us. Penny was a wonderful part of our lives, a Mississippi mutt that we adopted when she was about 14-months-old. She was anxious and crazy, qualities that resulted in her first family not being able to keep her. Penny moved in with us and things got better for her. She had Nelly, our sweet Lab, to show her the ropes. She had a doggie door and a large back yard to tear around in. And she had an entire neighborhood to explore, thanks to her amazing ability to overcome my every attempt to keep her contained. Let’s just say that I should never be in charge of running a secured facility…
Both Beth and I took the inevitable loss much harder than I suspect either of us thought we would. After all, we were all surprised that Penny had lived as long as she did. Penny had become diabetic, receiving two significant doses of insulin every day for almost three years. She survived three months in Florida, a trip bookended by two long rides in the back seat of my pickup. Poor Penny did not dig the new Florida environment one bit. She fell into the canal behind our house twice, with both times resulting in yours truly stripping down to my skibbies and hopping into the water to help her get back on terra firma. I swear that I could see the relief in Penny’s face when she was back on the island!
This past Sunday, Beth and I did what we often do to turn off the world and get our feet back under ourselves: we loaded up the truck and took a ride to Great Point. Great Point (in particular) and Nantucket beaches (in general) exude significant healing qualities. We found a quiet spot on the Coatue side and hung out by ourselves, away from everyone. I’d wave to the odd truck that drove past. Aside from that, we had no contact with the world for about three hours. We needed it.
As we were leaving Great Point, driving down the eastern edge, I noticed a slick spot on the water. Could that be a bluefish slick? Bluefish have been very scarce all summer. I hadn’t even entered one single blue for the Inshore Classic tournament so far. We agreed that we had to stop and cast a few times just to see what was going on.
It took just a few casts for us to be glad that we did! Beth hooked up on a big bluefish that gave her and her awesome Fish Stix – Nantucket rod all that she could handle. Beth was steadily working the fish back to shore when I noticed a change of pace. It looked like she was trying to rip the lips off of the fish she had on her line. She yelled, “Seal!” and I quickly understood. In spite of her best efforts, the fish was stolen by the lazy sea thief, along with her lure and half of her leader. Grrrrrrrr!!
It was my turn next. I hooked up on a strong fish. The thieving seal, not sated from the high protein meal it had stolen moments before, turned its attention to my fish. The fish decided to aid me in its escape, swimming towards the shore to evade the seal. I followed Beth’s good example and hauled the fish in on a wave just over the opened maw of the worthless seal. Woo hoo! The fish was strong and fat, but not very long at 23 inches. I measured it, snapped a picture and released it.
Things continued hot for a bit. I hooked one and lost it when the fish jumped and shook my hook out of its mouth. Another one ended up on my measuring board, resulting in a better tournament entry at 25 inches. As I released that fish, I saw a white utility body truck going by and realized that it was my friend Jesse Smith. I yelled to him to get out and fish. Jesse and his son Luke soon joined us on the beach.
Luke, an 11-year-old sixth grader, was very excited about the prospects of catching a bluefish. I worked with him on his casting for a couple of minutes, channeling the great Dan Kelliher. Mr. Kelliher was my fourth grade teacher. He taught so many of us how to cast a surf rod out on the playground of Academy Hill School. I parrot his instructions with every new fisher that I teach. Thank you, Dan! Luke was soon casting well.
Alas, the fish were out a bit too far for young Luke. I knew what had to be done. I casted and hooked a fish—wow, this one felt like a really good fish! I yelled to Luke to reel his rod up and stick it into the rod holder I had planted near us. He did so and took over my rod with the fish attached.
“It’s so hard!” Luke held on for dear life. It was all my young friend could do to reel the fish in. I coached him to use the fishing rod to his advantage, lifting the rod and then reeling as he bowed down.
Luke slowly gained ground on the gator blue.
“Ok, now walk straight backwards and don’t reel!” Luke followed instructions well. I soon was able to grab the leader and the tail of the fish as it flopped in the wash. “That’s the biggest fish of the day!”
“No way I tackled that!!” Luke was overjoyed! The fish measured 28 inches long, significantly better than anything I had caught. Luke and Jesse posed for a couple of pictures, and then the marvelous bluefish was released to be caught another day.
As we drove home under the light of the rising full moon, Beth and I both realized that a large portion of our profound and unspoken sadness had been lifted. The joy of meeting up with Luke and Jesse, the exhilaration of Luke’s triumph with this monster blue, and the overall beauty of God’s world on display had filled us with strength and hope. The magic of Great Point had once again served us well.
Thank you, Luke, for giving us some much needed happiness.
As I drove home, I had some revelations: John Steinbeck is right. Dogs truly are mind readers and perfect evaluators of character. Dr. Lepore is right. Dogs won’t let you down. And Chris Stapleton is right. Dogs do have souls. They are a beautiful gift, a gift so precious that it’s worth the inevitable heartbreak.
I hope that everyone reading this will strive every day to be the person that your dog thinks you are. I wish to express our gratitude to the amazing folks at Nantucket’s Offshore Animal Hospital. They’re there for us all on the best and worst of days. Run, Penny, run, with the h eart of a rebel child.
Steve “Tuna” Tornovish is a Nantucket native who has spent his life fishing from the beaches of his beloved island. He loves to introduce clients to the joy of fishing with his Nantucket Island Fishing Adventures: stevetuna.com
