As I've mentioned in this House previously, my parents had a sheep and beef farm in South Taranaki, and to help us out on that farm we had over the years a number of working dogs. You spend hours with your dog, training them, building a relationship, earning their trust, and they your trust. Each dog has its own personality. Dad would always remind us that we weren't to spoil the dogs; they were working dogs and weren't to come inside, but that rule was never strictly followed, and we all knew, at the end of the day, that they were part of our family too and treated with respect. When one of them passed away, we all grieved and we missed them.