But in the end, I'm glad to be traversing Gun Dog Road from start to finish with Pritchard. Because there's nothing like waking up at dawn, throwing on your training clothes, and heading down the stairs. There, your dog, who has been listening to every step you trod as soon as your feet left the bed, is waiting in her crate with the pent up energy of a compressed coil spring. The morning ahead of you--or at least the hour you have to train before jumping in the shower and heading to work--is full of promise and hope. Of course, much of that promise and hope will be left crushed on the dewy grass, but you know by now to appreciate the minor victories.