Catt & Pat are sitting on a little ridge just south of Indian Mounds; full moon is barely on the horizon, slight southerly breeze. I make a long cast towards deep water and start the count down to the bottom. The Texas rigged worm settles down when there's that classic "Thump", drops the rod, reel the slack, and set the hook. Nothing gives, then in a microsecond on my knees, rod half under water.
Catt: Yells get the net!
Pat: For what!
Catt: I think he's heading for the Louisiana side
Pat: You gonna land em or what
Catt: Aint you suppose to play em first?
Finally back to my feet, line singing again, drag slipping, rod all bowed up.
Catt: He's headed for Six Mile, if you start the big motor we can head em off.
Pat now standing behind me: Want me to pour some water on your reel?
Catt: No! just get the gun!
Look a swirl just under the surface, a sudden dive for freedom, your mine sucker.
Pat with quick move and it's in the net: Took you long enough.
Catt falls back into the seat drops his rods on the deck: Dude let's see it.
Pat turn on the interior lights: Shoot it's only a stripper!
Catt sits up, lips it and grabs the tail, gotta be at least 36"
Pat digs around in the console for the scales 16 LB 5 OZ.
Catt: Slipping it back in, that's a hawg right there.
Pat: Don't count it's a stripper!
Catt: Still a hawg
Pat: You're still down 7 to 4, shut up & fish.