Bops,
Now that you see how good I look in camoflouge, can I come with you and Momma to Hartsville next year? I mean, I'll already be 2 years old then. Won't it be time to start training me in the rituals of hunting? I have it on good authority that my first few years I will remain unarmed, destined to be the bird dog, collecting all of the doves you and Momma shoot. But she assures me there will be Diet Coke cans for me to practice on, just like she did when you were teaching her. I guess next year is too soon, but when the time comes, I look forward to sitting in a stand with you, watching the sun come up. Until then, I'll just practice by picking up ALL my toys when Momma asks me to.
Love,
Reeves
Reeves
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