The original photo of Juno above explains how she came to us. She was bred as a “huntaway” but would not bark so the vet adopted her as a house dog. She fits into motel life so easily and is often seen being on walkies with friends and inmates. She is now much better behaved on the leash as she lacks any road traffic sense. The Tongariro River Trail and nearby parks provide plenty of recreation opportunities to keep her fit and healthy.

A regular inmate recently asked how our new (?) dog was managing as we had failed to post anything about her lately. It is her 10th birthday so her present is a feature in TRM’s fb.

It is time for an update as Juno came to us two years ago – in May 2022. She is usually not seen as she is so busy guarding the TRM empire, snoozing in the garage, chained up to the vehicles to deter any hoodied trespassers looking for an opportunity. She looks the part and would soon let us know if anyone was lurking around.

TRM has more dogs than ever stay but she ignores them. She thrives on cuddles and pats from guests.

Particularly since Covid the number of guests looking for pet-friendly motels has increased significantly. Guests are warned, often TRM is more like a kennel club.

Certain suitable units located down the back are allocated as “dog units” to try to provide more seclusion away from the motel traffic. Please be aware of dogs when driving past the fish cleaning station.

Over the last twenty or so years TRM’s dogs developed wonderful friendships with many inmates. The photos will bring back a few memories.

Juno follows in the “paw prints” of Boof and Pumpkin who developed a remarkable reputation with many regular inmates – Boof since 2006 and Pumpkin since 2012.

Both died mysteriously in 2020 from unknown causes. Sadly, we suspect they may have been poisoned… Guess who? Nevertheless, their memories are still cherished by so many.

Boof in particular became famous for his sneaky fishing technique. He would stalk the river bank until he spotted a trout tucked under the bank and would leap in and “box” the fish until it was stunned. Then he would casually wade out, always passing near me to show off his trophy catch, and then bury it in the gravel. If we went back to the same spot a couple of years later he knew exactly where it was buried. They were always dug up to make sure. One day down in Smallmans Reach he had landed two before I even had a touch. He should have been fined for poaching…

So this post is more of a photo story in their memory.