Our dog Pudge is (or so we claim) the smartest dog in the world. Of course, when all of your previous dogs were either a) friendly, drooling, slobbering (but certainly loved) pooches; b) short-lived, loud-barking, car-chasers (nearly all of these end up being short-lived, it seems), or c) blood-thirsty, sharp-toothed, miniature yappers – as mine happen to have been – even a proud owner must admit that he might not be the most objective judge of the world’s smartest canines.

With that said, I’m still quite sure that Pudge is brilliant. Or intuitive. Or … perhaps at the very least … an extremely curious and avid TV-watcher.

Pudge, a bird-dog-in-training who (I’m sorry to report) has been so busy being a dog, that he hasn’t gotten on the phone and signed himself up for bird-dog training, has other wonderful traits.

He’s quite a sleeper, for instance. And a world-class eater. He’ll fetch … roll over … and even crawl on his belly like a snake (I don’t know how he figured that one out, but Sarah, my future step-daughter, claims credit for this nifty parlor trick).

He’ll swim. He’ll chew up and mulch wood (thankfully, he prefers firewood to the kind still attached to furniture). He’ll sit on your lap and look into your eyes and you’ll convince yourself that he really, honestly knows what you’re saying to him.

Of course, all of those things are common, garden-variety dog feats. OK. I haven’t met many springer spaniels who can do a snake imitation … but all the other stuff? Nothing uncommon, I’ll admit.

While his hunting training has been put off for a bit, Pudge has remained busy. And in doing so, he has proven to his (admittedly biased) parents that sometimes, he’s not just a dog.

Sometimes, he’s … he’s … a TV critic.

OK. Perhaps not precisely a critic. But he does love TV … some of it … and if you watch closely (Pudge, not the TV) you’ll be sure to find out exactly what he thinks of your viewing choices.

Dramas? He’ll be sleeping. Comedies? He’ll be sleeping. Horror or fantasy or the nightly news? He’ll be sleeping.

As I said he’s quite a sleeper.

If he does happen to wake up while one of his not-so-favorite shows is on, he’ll look at the screen, cock his head to one side, and (we’re certain) wonder why all these strange people are sitting in his living room.

Pudge, as I mentioned, is a springer. Springers, as he would mention, are sporting dogs. And when it comes to his TV-watching, Pudge’s sporting genes take over.

We first realized that while watching a NASCAR race one Sunday afternoon. For the first time, Pudge – a puppy at that point – began paying attention to the action on the screen, rather than paying attention to trying to chew my fingers down to nubs.

The cars drove by. Pudge watched. The cars crashed. Pudge watched even more attentively. We changed the channel.

Pudge fell asleep.

Basketball is another Pudge favorite.

He doesn’t seem to be much for the intricacies of the game (I haven’t seen him paying much attention to all the impressive stuff the stars do away from the ball, for instance), but boy, does he love the ball.

A player passes the ball into the post … and Pudge flicks his head in the direction of the pass. The center tosses the ball back out to the perimeter … and Pudge’s head snaps back. Over and over … pass after pass … Pudge will watch, glued to the screen. He doesn’t seem to care much for the after-the-hoop celebrations, or the obligatory crowd shots that some networks prefer, but throw the ball around, and he’s a fan.

Hockey doesn’t do much for him (the puck’s too small, I figure … either that, or the thought of all that ice makes his paws cold). Baseball isn’t a favorite either. Nor football.

But that doesn’t mean he’s just a NASCAR and hoop nut. Far from it.

Flip on any show having anything to do with the outdoors, and Pudge will love it.

Doubt it? Skeptical? Listen to this (this, of course, is offered up as further proof that if Pudge is not the smartest dog in the world, he’s at least among the most avid TV-watchers.

One evening, Pudge and I sat on the couch, watching TV. Almost.

I watched. He slept … until I turned to public television, and a documentary on Katahdin.

All it took was the mournful cry of a loon, echoing across a pond … and Pudge sat bolt upright.

“What’s this?” he seemed to say.

It got better.

A bit later in the documentary, the camera tracked a moose as he stepped into a still mountain pond.

Pudge hopped off the couch, took a tentative step toward the lumbering beast, and stopped.

With each step the moose took, Pudge crept closer. With each splash, Pudge nosed nearer and nearer to the big-screen TV. The moose walked across the screen … neared the edge … and then … in the time it takes a film editor to push a button, the moose was gone, and another scene filled the screen.

Pudge, five feet from the TV at this point, stopped. Then he crept to the right (where he had seen the moose heading, just before it vanished) and walked behind the TV.

A moment later, Pudge reappeared from behind the TV … mooseless, with a puzzled look on his face.

Shortly after that, my amateur TV critic let me know exactly what he thought of the moose’s premature departure.

It didn’t take long before I heard soft snores from the couch beside me.

‘Bucket stocking’

In recent years, it has become sadly commonplace to hear news from the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife about the thoughtless practices of some amateur fisheries biologists.

You can’t go more than a month or two without hearing the term “bucket stocking,” and finding out that non-native species have been introduced into yet another Maine lake or pond.

The DIF&W’s most recent weekly fishing report documents the problem the state faces when it comes to illegal introductions of fish, and offers a list that will turn your stomach.

Every region of the state is affected. Most avid anglers will look at the list and find a favorite lake or pond that has been targeted by bucket-stockers over the years.

A few of those waters: Upper and Lower Shin Ponds (smallmouth bass illegally introduced); East Grand Lake (landlocked alewives illegally introduced); and the Rapid River (an illegal introduction of smallmouth bass into Umbagog Lake has migrated and threatens one of the state’s true gems).

Here’s a wish for this summer: I hope someone is actually caught while they cart a bucket of bass into a pristine trout water. I hope they are charged. I hope they are convicted. And I hope they are punished … severely.

As you may have heard, he state legislature has increased the penalty in such cases. That’s a good start.

And as you may know, that penalty means nothing until someone is actually caught, charged, and penalized.

That’s the problem: Those people aren’t caught. They aren’t charged. They aren’t penalized.

Maybe this will be the year that changes. We can hope.

If you have any information about any illegal introduction, please consider calling Operation Game Thief at 1-800-ALERT-US. Your fellow anglers will thank you.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.