This is not a page out of The Leather Stocking Tales, but apparently we have a deer hunter in the house. Max and I ventured out after dinner so that he could take care of his business. He managed No. 1 and then realized that he was looking at a small herd of deer. I think that there were three or four adults - females and two or three youngsters. They were behind the fence that surrounds the property and therefore safe from any white miniature deer hunter. Once Max had the deer in his sights, he promptly went on point. I am sure that there is a mix of pointer blood in all that Westie. That has to account for his longer than usual legs.
I then said, "Go get them, Max." Off he went as fast as his leash and little old me coming quickly behind could go. The deer noticed this flash of white and raised their white tails. Perhaps in salute, it could happen. Then prudence came to the rescue, and off the herd ran into the brush and with a final wave of white tails, disappeared. Max was very disappointed and sniffed and looked and ran up and down the fence looking for his deer. My hunter was to come home with empty paws. This hunting business is tough and might mean you go to bed hungry. Happy travels.
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