JS
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Just got back from hiking the forest trails with my chocolate lab Cocoa ("daddy and the dogging" we call ourselves). Taking our time through the forest, dappled, moving sunlight patterns on the ground, a cool fallish morning. It doesn't get much better than that.
Except maybe for a great UConn win.
The walk always brings memories of two-dog walks including Cocoa's larger compadre and idol, Potter (Potter J. Heartly; some purebred thing; no such highfalutin' moniker for Cocoa, who has a bit of something else, maybe dobie, in her).
Anyway, the walks were Potter's greatest joy, such that we called him Potter of the Forest. He had every combination and permutation of the miles of trails mapped out in his doggy brain and served as our decider en route. Potter unerringly selected the route least recently traveled.
If he hated to repeat routes any more often than necessary, he hated even more to retrace our steps on the same route, preferring to travel in elaborate, ever-changing loops.
If I insisted on going back, he'd punish me by taking numerous off-trail excursions along the way. These would serve to show how bored he was and also to get back at me by forcing me to untangle his 20 foot retractable leash from around trees, saplings and bushes. Then he'd look at me with the clear message "Next time, remember who's the decider."
He eventually got me trained.
Except maybe for a great UConn win.
The walk always brings memories of two-dog walks including Cocoa's larger compadre and idol, Potter (Potter J. Heartly; some purebred thing; no such highfalutin' moniker for Cocoa, who has a bit of something else, maybe dobie, in her).
Anyway, the walks were Potter's greatest joy, such that we called him Potter of the Forest. He had every combination and permutation of the miles of trails mapped out in his doggy brain and served as our decider en route. Potter unerringly selected the route least recently traveled.
If he hated to repeat routes any more often than necessary, he hated even more to retrace our steps on the same route, preferring to travel in elaborate, ever-changing loops.
If I insisted on going back, he'd punish me by taking numerous off-trail excursions along the way. These would serve to show how bored he was and also to get back at me by forcing me to untangle his 20 foot retractable leash from around trees, saplings and bushes. Then he'd look at me with the clear message "Next time, remember who's the decider."
He eventually got me trained.