When I was 14 and Salty was just over a year old, he developed a bad habit. He would often bolt from the yard in the middle of a training session and not return until the following day. They were anxious times, and no matter how hard I tried to control him I couldn't. Our vet suggested that neutering Salty would curb the problem. Since we had no intention of breeding him we figured it was best for all involved. But a few weeks after the big snip, I was working with Salty in the front yard when he took off for the hinterlands. I went running after him, but my teenage legs were no match. As usual, my mom and I piled in the car and went looking for Salty. And as usual, we had no luck. Back at home, there was a message from the vet on the answering machine. (This was long before cell phones.) Turns out Salty had shown up outside his office door--a 2-mile trip that involved traversing a busy road--slobbering on the glass until they invited him in.