Where it twisted or turned, he would run straight on, bawling up a storm.
It didn’t take him long to realize that a smart old coon didn’t always run in a straight line.
Little Ann never overran a trail. She would wiggle and twist, cry and whine, and pretty soon she would figure it out.
At first they were afraid of water. I never would admit it even to myself.
I always said that they Just didn’t like to get wet.
They would follow the trail to the stream and stop. Sitting down on their rears, they would cry and beg for help.
With a pup under each arm, I’d wade out into the stream and set them down in the cool water.
Nine times out of ten, one pup would swim one way and the other one would go just the opposite way.
I had a time with this part of their training, but my persistence had no bounds.
It wasn’t long until they loved the water. Old Dan would jump as far out as he could and practically knock the river dry.
Little Ann would ease herself in and swim like a muskrat for the opposite shore.
I taught my dogs every trick I knew and any new ones I heard about.
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