Every now and then, they make a break off the path and have a game of tag in the rows of vines. Though I don't encourage it and certainly call them out of it, I can't help but laugh when it happens. This time it was too perfect of a set up for a little track racing all the way back to me. Juno, sensitive to his ego, didn't even try. Because he's not a husky. "Not everyone is perfect," she says, "or as fast as a Sibe."
But typically we stay on the paths. There are plenty of things to sniff, moles and field mice to chase. I don't allow them to take care of business, or lift a leg, anywhere near the vines. And not just because I actually drink the Chardonnay that comes from this vineyard.
But since the vines have been harvested for the year and the farm workers are gone, well, it can't hurt just this once for a game of tag. Right? Nobody's looking. So it didn't really happen.
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