We’re on each other’s team
When I was growing up, we had a string of badly behaved golden retrievers. First came Tilly, who died before her time after consuming a whole crab on Mothecombe beach in Devon. Then came Lottie, who was a wonderful pet but terribly gun-shy and would pointblank refuse to come out shooting.
Finally, we had Tess, a strong-willed dog who relied heavily on her instincts to do exactly as she pleased on a shooting field. In fairness to her, she was mostly on the money and would often retrieve things that other dogs had passed over. The fact that she would take game back to the nearest person to her, rather than to her owner, seemed mostly by the
