Mr. Gar says "hello!"

We need a break from fly fishing. This week's trip was canned at noon due to unseasonable heat and malaise, and it wasn't worth talking about.

I once collected a gar for an ichthyology class, and the preservation went bad, except for the head which got sort of mummified. This became "Mr. Gar" and he became a family tradition. Mr. Gar had a knack for showing up anywhere and everywhere: my mom's floral centerpieces during formal dinners for stodgy relatives, looking out of the ice ring in the punch bowl, as a Christmas ornament, and even a wedding cake where his little jaws embraced the bride. That appearance didn't last long, but he was moved to a place of honor looking out over the crowd from a champagne glass placed on the bridal party table. My favorite part of this was that my mom became wise to his appearances, and would try to find him before her dinners. But he always found a way to join the party. When my mom would spy him peaking out of the flowers, we kids would all shout in unision "Mr. Gar says Hello"! She would get royally pissed off at us, which was the main point. However, she changed her mind and started including him in the arrangements herself, and would usually place him looking out at whatever family member had given her a hard time recently. Let this record reflect that his wasn't ALWAYS pointed at me. Over the years, Mr. Gar became part of the family, and was included in many venues. He would travel to reunions, weddings and the like ensconced in his own travel box, or later hanging from the rear view mirror in a fine Christmas ribbon, shown above. Once he was lost for over a year, and everyone felt sad until he was rediscovered hiding among the christmas ornaments.


Mr. Gar has appeared at four weddings (OK, like only two were mine): Two marriages ended in divorce, the others are happy. The unhappy marriages were typified by horrified reactions to Mr. Gar, subsequent banishment, and forcing him to live in a box in the basement. The happy ones occurred when the new spouse greeted Mr. Gar with affection  and subsequently included him in family gatherings. I have long thought about the divination powers of Mr. Gar, and have considered renting him out to recently engaged individuals who have secret reservations about their husband/wife to be. But to exploit such a noble species for profit would be wrong. And if word got out, a serious trade in gar could ensue and contribute to their decline.

 Mr. gar is quite worn, and had a bad encounter with the little Hiatus (the rat terrier puppy introduced in an older post) but I have such respect for gars I have been reluctant to kill another. He is, however, somewhat worse for the wear as is any object smaller than a bus that has spent more than five minutes alone with a rat terror terrier. My friend Solomon D. just completed a dissertation on, you guessed it, gar, and may have a new specimen for me via a euthanized experimental animal. But the outcome is that Mr. Gar will not be replaced and discarded, but will become Mr. Gar emeritus and remain in the family until he falls apart or the little Hiatus leaps into the Christmas tree when I am not looking.