Heading back to the house after a good session of fencing along the logging (skid road) on the top of the hill, I was noticing the dogs as they guided me across the top, around the backside of the hill, and down the winding roads out of the woods. The dogs would take turns in the lead while the other scouted off road for sniffs and wafts of creatures great and small.
When we finally got to the final pitch that is the steep decline down to the hay field, the dogs picked up speed and the dust began a-flyin’. The dogs were making their way to the river for a quick dip and refreshing drink and their was no stopping them.
Their good-natured sense of guide dog disappeared quickly and we were left literally, in the dust.