Reminds me of an experience … One of my relatives was bragging once about how much his beautiful Dobie loved him so much. Really beautiful dog. As the bragging unfolded we pulled up to his house and suddenly like a streak of heavy thunder the Dobie jumped onto the hood, then the roof of the car, then the trunk, pushed off with its back feet and took off down the street chain flailing behind it and disappeared out of view (you know there’s that ONE relative whose laugh always shatters the sound barrier?). We cried with laughter, mercilessly.
I knew someone that raised hunting dogs and for the most part they were kept in kennels when not being trained or taken out for a hunt. The kennels were exceptionally roomy, not like the ones you see at the humane society, and they all had doggy doors to a grassy area to do their business. They weren’t treated poorly by any means even though I’d like to think that that’s not how a dog should live. But they were trained to do a job and they got great satisfaction from doing that job. That’s all they really knew.
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