Kickass, the doorstop dog, says his keeper suffers from something he calls “the November Lake Superior Wisconsin Blues,” which is a condition in the DNA of those who grew up in the general proximity of the big lake and know that in November, and other times too, it can rise up and do unspeakable things. It tried to get the keeper a summer or two ago when he fished from a one-man inflatable in Chequamegon Bay and foolishly ignored the approach of a rolling, yellow cloud bank. He lucked out because the sudden violent wind blew him to shore instead of out to sea. (He is a very slow learner.) The big lake is there, a deliciously ominous presence in November.