The Neil Creek Estate's Über-trained, programmed-to-attack-and-kill hellhound.
We probably should have just turned the damn alarm off, pulled the covers back up, and stayed in bed like him, but we didn't. Being that it is now officially fall, we have come to the point where we can number our home-game days on a pretty short list, so we have to make the most of the time that we have. If we didn't have that job thingy or that woman who insists that we're married, we would be free and clear to fish for the remaining month-and-a-half of the season - and we would probably be lonely and poor, too. Also, we know fall doesn't "officially" start until the 21st, but 41° with rain and a healthy 20kt Southeaster it sure as hell feel like fall.
But we digress.
Out the door, no particular agenda, just us and the Fanz and a pile of gear, waiting to see which flow would call to us. A few flows, a few holes, a few fly changes, a few fish...the only constant being the wind and rain.
Clocked out at 5pm, another good day behind us. Home, shower, food, beer, sleep.
One day down, and we don't ever know how many are left.