Rani, the Golden Retriever fishing prodigy, might have the public hoodwinked with her, “Gee shucks I’m just a cute dog who’s a better fisherman than your grandpa,” routine, but NOT ME. I’m onto her.
This trained assassin moves with the self-assured swagger of a retired KGB operative. Rani has seen things in the Eastern Bloc that make “Homeland” look like child’s play. Her mouth was once registered as a lethal weapon. This dog is a bad-ass and your dad already likes her more than you.
Her friends call her Jean-Claude Van Dogge, but only behind her back because they know it makes her furious. And you wouldn’t like her when she’s angry. Her tail might wag, but beneath that golden fur-lined chest beats the heart of a ruthless killer.
If (after too many beers) you happen to ask Rani how many fish she has offed in her lifetime, she’ll take a long drag of her cigarette, lock eyes with you, and slowly blow smoke into your face. “Who wants to know?” she’ll ask.
And when Rani wants to snare a fish, “for old time’s sake, to make sure she’s still got it,” you better drive her to the f-cking lake, videotape her from her best angle, and praise her nervously while she saunters back up the hill with her catch.