
Once I went and got them, they troubled the surface of the water and had a grand old time trying to convince me to throw the stick a few more times. It was warm for an early Maine morning in October, but my hands still chilled quickly.
So poor Jax was left hoping for a twentieth toss that I wasn't prepared to give him.
Comet was a bit more able to amuse himself by splashing around and chewing the bushes that hang out over the water.
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