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Cecil was the dog-beast that first really stole my heart. At 120lbs, there was a lot of him to love, but with 400acres of Vermont woods to play in, he was as fit as a fiddle. And he had that wonderful balance of independence and loyalty that meant he'd take you for a walk in his woods, but always come back to bring you along when you weren't quite keeping up. He belonged to good friends of ours and somehow I got in a routine of driving non-stop from Michigan to their house, often in the winter it seemed, and would then pull out a sleeping bag and bivvy sac and go to sleep in a snowbank in the driveway instead of waking them all at 3am or 4am or whatever god-forsaken time it was. Cecil would always run out first thing in the morning, lick my head, and then try get his massive head inside my sleeping bag.
Molly was the dog I first really considered my own. I was living in Portland, O
Nevertheless, this is a blog inspired by our golden boy. I first met a Vizsla in person on my way east, moving from Oregon to Maine. My good friends, Dan and Rosie, were house-sitting for friends and the assignment included looking after
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And again, to keep re-visiting Clif Boggs, I had no idea exactly how far that would take me.
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