My two little dogs LOVE to go feeding. The mere question of, "you guys ready to go feed," results in racing around the house, whining, jumping on you as you put your gear on, and shooting out the door like two hairy rockets when it finally opens. The same act begins again when we reach the pickup, and sometimes Miss Weenie has to run several circles, tail wagging profusely, until she calms down enough to stop and let me toss her the cab. Emmie can get in herself, thank you very much, through an opening roughly half her actual width.
What is so exciting about the prospect the feeding, you may wonder. Well, the highlight is when, upon nearing the feedgrounds, or a two track road we're going down that day, I stop, and let them out. Yes, that's what it takes to be the best master in the world : )
Their happiness and excitement is unmatched, and they leap, growl, and charge through the sagebrush, literally blowing off steam. After the initial rush wears off, about a mile in, serious sniffing, exploring and excavating ensues. It's almost more joy than they can handle at once.
This all may have something to do with me turning them loose into this:
You may wonder if there is anything that can ruin this. The answer is yes, and the worst part about feeding is when the excitement exceeds intelligence, and the return to the pickup is postponed...until after the cows arrive.