My gramma’s cousin lived behind us and had a big Poodle-ish mixed breed named Lady.
He was often too blistered to go on beer runs so he’d send Lady down the road and across RT 40 to the tavern on the mountain with money pinned to her collar.
She’d bring him back a 6 pack.
All was well until one day, she went to my gramma’s house and picked up a 6 pack of Blue Ribbon that my grandaddy had sitting on the back porch.
Lady had to stay home after that.
Taffi drives to Starbucks and gets me coffee...
Back when my father was a small boy in the 1930’s, he knew a neighbor’s dog that was trained carry a nickel in its mouth several miles to the Dairy Queen (or whatever they were called then) where they would give the dog an ice cream cone. This happened every day during the hot south Texas summers.