Coney is a 7-month-old coon hound (I see a bit of beagle in him, too) rescued on a stormy night in Appalachia and whisked away to Brooklyn to find a home. He's on antiobiotics for a skin rash that has cleared up already. He's mostly white, with some tan patches and black freckles on his snout, and hazel eyes.
We picked him up from the shelter this morning and walked him home, figuring he'd need a nice long walk after being cooped up.
He'd never been on a leash before, but he's getting the hang of it. He's an intelligent, trainable mutt. He comes when he's called, loves people, and is respectfully curious about other dogs.
In an amusing episode before, he discovered the mirrored surface of our living room walls. He thought it was multiple Coneys, and started barking indignantly...
He's already befriended the dog next door, Ray, and he seems happy here.
As soon as I can, I want to enroll in a clicker training class.
Tying this all into yoga is easy: discipline is the cornerstone of happiness, and no one illustrates this better than a well-trained dog.
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