Long ago, owned by two Labrador Retrievers, I had the idea of bringing home birds, shot over them, for the table.
Father of two teenagers, I took them to Deep River Sporting Clays for education. In between “Golf With A Shotgun”, I kept a Browning Sporting Gold and and a Remington 11-87 LC (the boys gun) in a locked gun safe in an attic. I had the only key. Shells were stored in the overhead of my backyard wood shop (cases of target shells were a lot cheaper), also locked and again, I had the only key. Both sons later discovered I was a pussycat, compared to Parris Island Range Instruction. And they were grown. I believe there are no parental excuses for gun safety laziness.
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