My boss really loves me. She did something awesome: she enlisted me in a hunting training! She did, because she suspects me to have hunting skills…. She watches all this Cesar Millan shows on television and he shows it works well to put dogs in their natural role. Like sheepherding or guarding. One evening she looked at me and said I might be a hunting dog. Ha! I could have told her a year ago I have hunting skills, because my predecessors were hunting dogs to the Greek nobility. I am sure about that.
So now we train every week, with a group of impressive other hunting dogs. M was first a bit reluctant, because she doesn’t like the idea of hunting. You know, killing other animals. I don’t understand this, because we eat meat. Meat is dead animals. It has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it? In my opinion, you’d better eat a rabbit that enjoyed a wild life in the fields than a poor chicken that has never seen daylight in her life, because she grew up in one of these awful chickenfactories (I know this, because M supports groups who are against this industry. If I get bored, I read their stuff, too. Mainly because they show pictures of tasty animals).
So far, the training is colossal. We search and run and bring back… pink dummies. Alas, we don’t chase animals. Not yet: they tell us that if we perform well, we will hunt real rabbits and ducks and partridges. My mouth is watering. I will really, really do my best to get to this next level!
This is a picture of me, concentrating during hunting training. I am wearing a cool hunting leash (which is matching the pink dummy – one has to be stylish, always):