She is supposed to be a hunting dog. Excellent bloodlines and training that should’ve made her a great Retriever. My uncle just knew she was going to make him proud. Through no fault of his own, life happened, and his beloved bird dog went to spend “just a few months” at Headquarters with my grandparents. My Grandfather made it his job to keep her in shape for hunting season. When hunting season rolled around it was to late. She was already fond of the couch potato life. So my grandmother agreed that the dog could stay (that’s a story for another day). That was close to years ago. Grace has been out there ever since. She faithfully followed my grandfather around all day. My children have roped her, ridden her, read her books and stolen her bed for naps. Grace is so patient and so sweet. She never fails to meet you at the door with a wagging tail. A ferocious bark that will scare any stranger or neighborhood cat away. She knows the “sweet” spots to sit so she can get to every crumb that hits the ground during the meal. Grace loves when her best friends Ruger and Callie come to play. She guards my grandmother while she works outside. She’s an 80 pound lap dog. She “herds” cows from the other side of the fence with a happy bark and a non-stop wagging tail. She’s just Grace.
No, she’s not a hunting dog or a corgi. However, it’s entirely possible she’s the best don’t that’s ever been.
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Blessings from Texas,