Into Crutch Ballistic Missile.
That's Huey. Man, is this dog exuberant or WHAT!
He lies at the top of the yard, in the shade of the tree. You can hardly see him. He's dark grey. When I open the back door, he launches.
He's like a rocket. Flies down the yard at a billion miles an hour and collides full-on with my groin.
I'm deflecting him and teaching him not to be so exuberant. It's starting to work.
Then he whines at the back door if Goldie goes in and leaves him outside.
I bring out the spray bottle and spritz him through the screen.
Oh, oh, he's starting to enjoy it. Last time I sprayed him, instead of backing away, he came forward, rolled his head around to catch the spray and revelled in it like a dandy in a hair salon having his do hairsprayed.
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