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Looking through some back issues of the GPCA Bulletin I found these lovely words

How Do They Know by Bill Daron
As I sat on the floor or the mud room adjacent to the kitchen of our home, while brushing the dried and caked mud from the coat of our 18 month old bitch Frankie, I noted, with somedegree of anguish, our even dirtier 4 month old male Mozart intently watching my every move. As he stared, his tail thumped a nearby wall providing a cadence for my brush strokes. At this point, I was convinced that no state could cake red clay mud on a Pyr like South Carolina. As I continued to brush, my mind wandered and I found myself asking that aged old question " How do they know ?"

After a torrential downpour, how do they know where the largest and most substantial mud holes are located? For certain, as soon as they are released, they will head straight for these caverns of " Pyr fun ."

How do they know how to precisely time a two-Pyr collision at the bottom of the stairs at the exact moment you take your last step downward from the flight of stairs? Furthermore, how do they know how to instantly generate that "Gosh, did I do that to you" look on their faces as you come crashing to the floor after falling over two enormous white bodies?

It never ceases to amaze me that they know instinctively the precise moment you plan to leave the kitchen for a second as they swipe some original resting place to resume wagging their tailes as you enter the kitchen. How do they do that?

While continuing to sit and be totally amazed how two beings could enjoy their filth more than my two "used to be white" Pyrs, my thoughts turned to how they become a major part of your life in a relatively short period of time.

When I have experienced a particularly awful day, how do they know how to greet you with the enthusiasm that makes you forget how bad the day had really been? How do they know when to show you they are really glad to see you when the rest of the world couldn't have cared less that day?

How does one Pyr find its way to the very soul of your being; to make themselves so valuable that you simply must own another ... and another ... and another? For that matter, what happens to a normal, rational citizen that uses their weekend time for the pursuit of rest and relaxation and meaningful activities like yardwork and other activities that don't involve 300 mile trips to dogshows? It occurred to me, at that point, that a discusion of that nature is a study in and of itself !

A swipe of a heavily plumed tail across the face snapped me back to reality. Trhough my wandering thoughts, I came to the realization that the answers to these questions are all part of the many great misteries known to mankind. One thing is continually reinforced in my mind. Life would not be quite the same without the joy of these beautiful creatures. In fact, having experienced being owned by Pyrs, it is difficult to imagine not having this distinct honor.

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