Waylon Day 1 (aka Andy vs. Sandy)

Hey Cliffy......por que your gun no go bang?  Well inquisitive reader, let me tell you a story:

Fred and I decide to take Waylon out for his first day of hunting.  We  decide an afternoon shoot out at the island off the point that is next to the 'old old spot' would work just fine.  As we are escorted out to the area by multiple dog walkers, Waylon and another dog of his same age take a liking to each other.  They happily bounce around as we make our way out.  The other dog also had an older counterpart, whom didn't like Waylon as it turns out (stupid old dog).  As we make our way down the muddy path to the 'old old spot' and turn right to head out to the point, I noticed the dogs turned left.  I turned around and their shanannigans put them in the river.  They were swimming and staying afloat in the moderate current, but they couldn't get out with the 1 foot drop off the bank.  The other dog owner gets down on his hands and knees in the mud and starts pulling his dogs out.  I lean my gun and pack against a fallin tree about 20 feet away and follow suit.  The minute we get the dogs out, they get into it!  I mean teeth exposed...the whole nine yards (Waylon's cool, thanks for asking).  After finally getting them seperated and Waylon tied up to a tree, I go back to retrieve my pack and gun.  But wait, there's my pack and no gun.  WTF?  I could have sworn I set it right next to the pack.  After a quick search, it doesn't turn up.  Could the dogs have knocked it into the river during the scuffle and I not notice?  I lean over the embankment and trench the bottom with a stick but the current was swift and the water was deep for any accurate assessment.  During this time, I ask myself....where's Fred?  I grab Waylon and we walk out to the point and see that he's already on the island with decoys set up.  After a lot of yelling, he finally gets the point that somethings wrong, so he packs up and heads over to the mainland.  Fred, master of taking over not so calm situations, gets into the river and starts poking his foot around whilst I hold onto him.  He finds it!  It's deep!  It's my gun!  Fred tries to scoot it closer with his foot, but every time the current grabs it taking it into deeper water.  We look at each other knowing there's only one option and Fred solidifies that option by saying 'it's your gun'!  While Fred buries his feet into the boot sucking mud, I start to undress thinking about the great friend I have who jumped into a deep swift river without hesitation to locate it.  In my base layers and socks, holding Fred's hand I jump in.  The 'turtling effect' takes strong hold as I try to keep my breathe in the freezing water.  I locate where the gun is with my foot and plunge.  Got it!

We hike out after a smoke and few quick sips and cruise back to Fred's place where he disassembled my gun and we started the clean.  3 hours later and You Tube videos, the gun is still disassembled as the firing mechanism won't 'pop' back into place.  Where's the gun now you ask?  I took to my local gun shop where some dude in Clackamas will come pick it up and make it right.  I almost said F it and wrote a check for $299 for the used Benelli Nova sitting on the shelf, but this gun and I were Experts one year.  It may have been just one year, but my name is on the blog as an Expert and that gun did it with me.