They do work miracles sometimes.
At least three times in the past few days, while typing “dog,” I’ve typed “god.”
No, I don’t have dyslexia. I doubt it is a Freudian slip. I’ve been typing since 10th grade. I know how to spell. But somewhere, deep inside my subconscious, there is a kernel of truth in this recurring typographical error.
Maybe you’ve transposed the same letters in the same way. Or thanked your dog for leading you to a revelation. Or put your faith in his nose. While in the field with him, perhaps you had an epiphany. Or simply hoped – prayed – he would hold that bird while you huffed and puffed up the hill to his point.
I’m not advocating you abandon your current spiritual beliefs. Nor do I equate a dog (even a staunch, finished wirehair) with a Supreme Being.
But don’t you think our hunting partners have many admirable qualities? More importantly, don’t hunting dogs bring out the best in us?
Amen to that.
Scott Linden Outdoors 
When Keeper lays down at night I am able to lay my head on her shoulder and listen to her breathing. It is far better than the sounds of the ocean for relaxation. I am so blessed that my ‘god’ make that dog shares one of my best methods of letting the overloads of the day go away.
That’s what I’m talking about!