when the dog says it's time to go …

I had that feeling after work like I had to get away...anywhere but the reality of the weekly grind. It's ludicrous what we put ourselves through, working in these crazy jobs for a living. It makes little sense to me sometimes. It makes more sense for me to be maintaining my shelter and organising my food...but that's the idealist in me. What a crazy notion. The next best thing was to grab the fly rod and Brady bag and head to the nearest water for some stick waving.

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The girls and I jumped in the rattly old Jeep for a test fish at a local watering hole that a neighbouring farmer said may have trout in it.

It was crappy weather, but then it turned.

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It came down there for a while.

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Henry boy didn't like it. You could read it on his face.

And made it pretty clear by getting snug between my legs for some shelter (look closely)

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He whimpered and complained. He is an 'English' pointer after all...and we do know they like a whinge ;-)

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There were no trout in this lake. Well not today anyway.