I went on a walk along a beach with Roby and a man came in to shore carrying a fish. He wasn’t sure wether it was long enough, so he carried it into his house to make sure. 
“Nope!” He announced, bringing it back to the water to be released, where it was obviously dead. 

“Can fish get brain damage from lack of oxygen?” I asked as it floated listlessly with a flap here or there.

“I’m not sure,” he pondered, moving the fish slowly back and forth.

Roby was not a big fan of the fish, I tried to get her to touch it, but she was not interested. 

He decided to eat the fish, a striped bass, so that the birds wouldn’t get it. He muttered a lot the way into his house the first time about the length of the fish, how it was his first, he’s just starting fishing, and all that. The second time he walked into his house, when I was walking away, he muttered other things about eating it. 

I can’t tell if he thought he had done something wrong. He said it was an inch too short, an inch out of 28 inches. Maybe he thought I would tattle on him. I wouldn’t. Anyways, that’s just the sort of behavior that makes a person look guilty, even if what they’re guilty of is eating a fish that’s a little too short on a Thursday evening. 

Maybe he was convincing himself, or trying to convince me. Unfortunately I am unable to be convinced, as I do not care and have no control over his punishment. 

I hope the fish was delish.