Happy loves traveling.  Sometimes I think if he could he would herd us into a vehicle and spend months on end exploring every road and every side street that he could.  At the mere mention of going out and he is at the door ready and waiting.  For him there is not thrill like watching the road pass by, sniffing out strange soil, and watching new faces walk past the car with the hope that some of them will stop and pay attention to him.

For him it does not matter whether it is the bitter cold of winter or the melting heat of summer, he wants to go.  It does not matter that we are going grocery shopping or to the doctor and he cannot come in meaning that he has to sit in the care for hours (although his perspiration drenched or shivering human companion minds). For him the thrill of adventure and the joy of being part of the pack are all he can think of.

It is from this love of adventure that the poem A Puppy Dream was inspired.

 

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