“Gary, get over here and help me reel this in!” I yelled, concentrating all my effort on maintaining my grip on the worn handle of the net. Gary hurried over, placing his rough hands above my own and thrust his weight to help me reel whatever creature had found itself trapped in our net.

“Geez, Jim,” he heaved, the exertion evident in his voice, “I told you didn’t I. The moon offers her gifts when she’s full in the sky.” Despite his concerted effort to lug in the considerable weight of the ocean creature, Gary looked up in humble admiration at the night’s sky. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been a man with simple dreams and a generous spirit.

“Huh. Perhaps you’re right, old man.” I teased.

Together, we drew the net in to the boat and, with more difficulty than I would normally care to admit as I no longer had the strength of my youth, we reeled the beast into the boat.

“What the heck is it?” Gary glanced hestiantly at the large mass in the netting. It’s tail shimmered a brilliant gold, the moonlight reflecting radiantly off the scales. However, above the mid-rift, the scales morphed into a body of fur, and it’s head was —

“Jesus Christ, is that a … is that a dog, Gary. I tell you, I need to lay off the wine.” I often used humour to mask dissapointment, uncertainty, or anxiety. In that moment, I couldn’t tell what emotion I was masking.

Gary and I took a few hesitant steps towards the beast, stopping at the edge of the netting, which was still leaking trails of water onto the deck of the boat. The animal caught became alert, and started trembiling within the net. We took a step back, and then we heard it, unmistakeable.

“Grrrr … Bark!”

We had caught a half-dog, half fish.