Gallatin Gateway, Montana

No part of Montana is in the Four Corners, although it does share a place on the earth with Wyoming and Idaho. In any case, the Bensons had booked a fly-fishing vacation on the banks of the Gallatin River for us, and we weren't about to turn them down, especially since they would be on hand to clean our fish and keep our wine glasses full. When we arrived, I found that I would be bunking next to the kitchen, which was overflowing with food. This provided a good opportunity for me to protect the household from mice. (Unfortunately, by the time we left, the score was 3-0 in favor of the mice.) It also proved that there was no need for me to catch fish in order to survive, which was good because that fly-fishing business looks too fiddly for me. I hear that Grandpa Benson is pretty good at it, but Chris and Matt spent a good part of each day gearing up and then untangling everything. I have enough trouble facing the ordinary frustrations of life without that. In the end, though, a couple of beautiful trout made it into the cooler . . . which is more than I can say for the mice.

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