Nuthin much happens in August if you are a chien français tricolore at Cheverny. The hunting season is but a distant memory. You get to hang out with your mates and relax. It's hot, so you snooze a lot. Occasionally you might stir yourself and go over to the railings to be petted by a visitor. Everyone's so relaxed there aren't even the usual hierarchical jostlings. The only excitement, other than the mid-afternoon feeding, is when a small child throws a toy into the kennel yard. This causes a swirling of dogs, all convinced the object will be good to eat, and the kennel hand shouts and shoves his way through to retrieve it before someone has a chance to swallow it.
Once peace is restored kennel hand tells me that there are 100 dogs in the pack and suggests I comptez les pattes et diviser par quart to verify this statement.