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when I live in Lofall, Washington I knew a dog that loved to hunt, it would jump in any car if the guy had a shotgun in hand and if the guy missed, the dog would walk home.
My grandad had a horse (named Red), that would point deer. The first time I got to go out to hunting camp I was four almost five. My older brother, Dad, Uncles and cousins all took off to go out to various places in hills right after breakfast, and Grandpa, my Aunt and I stayed in camp to clean up. Grandpa, had killed his deer the day before, and was done hunting.

So, Grandpa, told my Aunt to take Red and go see what she could find while he and I finished cleaning up, and we would flow up the road when we got finished up.

So, she left on Red, and we cleaned up. After just ten minutes we heard a shot. Then three more. then another three shots.

So, we waited a bit and then got in the pickup to go find Aunt Mick. About half mile up the road we found her walking back to camp. She was a bit miffed. Grandpa asked if she was ok, and she was fine. Grandpa asked where Red was, and she replied, “That damned horse is standing under a rim rock, looking at a deer that’s 500-yards out and I can’t kill, because he’s too far away to shoot.”

Grandpa, laughed and said it had never been a problem before. But then, he had always killed the deer.
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