I told the poor guy I thought the kids were getting a little too big for him to pull them in the covered dog wagon this year (also, he's six, which means he's even older than me in dog years now and I can't even climb a sand dune without getting excessively dramatic). He wasn't happy about that news. He needs something to do. I think he wants me to build a harness for our neighbor's black Labrador so he can be part of a wagon-pulling team. I told him I'd take him pheasant hunting on the urban prairie as soon as possible.
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