Michele, when I lived in Roanoke, my neighbor and I would walk down the hill on our street and out to a country lane. The area dogs looked for us every day to accompany us. George, a golden retriever, was especially faithful. One day, we walked by a dead squirrel. George picked it up in his mouth and refused to put it down. But, he got tired of carrying it. So, he would walk ahead, put the squirrel down and rest. Once we caught up with him, he would pick the squirrel back up and continue the walk.

We must have been a sight in those days as we usually had 5 or 6 dogs along with us (none of them ours). Sometimes, they would fight and there would be this rolling mass of fur in the middle of the street!