A woman's view of hunting…with men
guns, dogs and birds
All three ready and raring to go find birds!
Mitch is ready to go find birds too!
Charlie always on alert
My hunting buddies!
AJ and me – what a pair!
The end of a long day
Game On
Tug of War
The Winner
AJ and Orso love the cool weather so much and start a pick up game of My Stick. That usually means the Smackdown is close behind. I have to be sure and stay out of range or I quickly become part the melee. That has happened many times in the past.
While most everyone else was either fighting the crowds at the malls or surfing the web for bargains, I decided to spend my Black Friday a bit differently. Mitch opted to work overtime, to pay for the new alternator the dog hauler just had to have after I spent a small fortune at the grocery store. Had I known the alternator was going to go out, I would have waited to buy some of the extras. Sorry I digress, (a sign of old age). I thought that since I was on my own for Black Friday and crowds of strangers, each ruder than the next, are not my idea of fun, I took the dogs hiking. They didn’t care where we went as long as they were with me, so it was a win-win situation.
So I loaded them up and headed off for a morning of tearing around out in the woods at break neck speeds. For three dogs that normally spend their days looking like large lumps on the bed, laying around sucking up oxygen and conserving energy, it’s a whole different story when we take them out to the woods, they turn into three energizer bunnies, going and going and going. I parked the car at the top of the hill with about a half mile hike to the bottom where the trail starts. Which means the way back to the car is at the TOP of the hill, about a half mile hike UPHILL to the car. As soon as the dogs figured out where we were, they couldn’t wait to get out and run around. Orso started barking and pacing back and worth, because I wasn’t moving fast enough for him. I opened the tailgate and out came the three happiest dogs. The only thing that could make their day any better would be if there was peanut butter cake there too.
The day was chilly with gusty winds and clouds covering the sky, not the prettiest day but definitely not the worst. We were the only ones around so the dogs could run and sniff to their hearts content. After the hike I gave each one a bath so now I have pretty dogs – Bonus! I can’t think of a better way to work off turkey and all the fixins.
Mitch adjusting his shell belt – getting ready for the morning hunt
Charlie is barely able to contain his excitement – eager to race around looking for BIRDS!
Prairie grass and Cedar trees – Pheasant haven
Color coded bandanas help keep track of who’s who in the field.
My son lost one of his dogs this past weekend. His dog was ten years old and had a stroke. That’s not particularly old for a dog, but not young either depending on the breed. It came on fast and was not expected, which makes the loss more ragged and raw. No one is ever ready to lose a member of the family, whether human or animal, but when it is unexpected there is a huge sense of loss.
His loss made me remember Buddy, our yellow Labrador. He was probably the best dog ever. He always had a smile on his face. Buddy was our constant companion going everywhere with us. He was about twelve years old when he woke me up very late one night bumping into the cabinets in the bathroom acting disoriented. His abdomen was huge and rock hard and he was panting heavily. I thought that he needed to go outside to go pee or maybe he had to poop badly. I had no idea what was wrong with him. I took him out and watched as he stumbled outside. He collapsed in the yard so I rushed back inside and woke up Mitch to help me get him in the house.
Mitch carried him in and laid him on the kitchen floor. AJ laid down beside him, I sat on the floor by Buddy’s head asking Mitch what was wrong mentally imploring him to fix it, make it better for Buddy. Neither one of us had ever heard of abdominal torsion. We sat on the floor helpless watching him take his last breath.
As Buddy took his last breath, AJ laid his head on Buddy’s neck. I believe AJ was trying to comfort Buddy. I looked at Buddy but it didn’t dawn on me yet that he was gone. I asked Mitch what happened, to fix Buddy. Make it better. Make him well. As an adult, I knew Buddy was dead, but the little girl in me, wanted a higher power to fix everything, to right the universe, turn back time. It wasn’t possible and I sat on the floor sobbing over Buddy, the best friend I’d ever had and beloved family member.
Family and friends all tried to comfort us, say something magical that would make us feel better. It did and it didn’t. Knowing that Buddy had touched so many hearts and we had so many friends helped, but the loss of him hurt so much. It was a physical pain, in the chest, and behind the eyes, trying fruitlessly to hold back tears. Trying to be a grownup, knowing it was just a dog and dogs die, but a dog isn’t just a dog, he was part of our family and it hurt as much as if he were a person.
I tried to comfort my son, saying all the things people say when you lose a family member. Saying all the wrong things, realizing as I was saying them, it wasn’t enough and couldn’t find the magical words that would make him feel better. But there is no magical word out there. Loving and loss are the yin and yang of life and both are needed in our lives. It’s what makes us compassionate and whole.
Buddy died in 2005 and I still miss him terribly. I will laugh out loud as I remember some of his antics and shed a few tears occasionally, but that’s all part of loving and I am so glad that I have that ability. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Buddy – 1994 ? – 2005
We have three dogs. AJ, The Good Dog, Charlie, The Green-Eyed Monster, and Orso, The Drool Machine. AJ, The Good Dog, a seventy pound Labrador, is sweet and loving, soft and gentle and totally devoted to me. Most of the time he has a serious expression on his face, but when the mood strikes him, The Good Dog is full of the Devil. I’ve seen him put Olympic style wrestling moves on a ninety five pound Doberman and take him to the ground, laying on top of Rocky just chewing on his neck. Now at eleven years old, the moments of the Devil are fewer and farther between, but it’s still there when needed.
We got Charlie, The Green-Eyed Monster, when he was ten weeks old. AJ acted like a proud papa watching over him and playing with him as Charlie grew up. It was pretty amazing watching AJ play to Charlie’s level, never too hard, only as hard as the puppy could handle. As Charlie grew the play got rougher, teaching him how to handle himself. Charlie is a sixty five pound half German Shorthair half Labrador and total psycho dog. Even though he was almost raised by AJ, he will get extremely jealous of the attention we give AJ or Orso. At seven years old, he will still look at you with an expression that says, “I’m the baby! Don’t play with him, touch me.”
I didn’t want Orso, The Drool Machine, didn’t want to even go look at him. A coworker of Mitch’s has a son that had a nine month old Chocolate Lab who needed to get rid of him. I kept telling Mitch two dogs was enough. The was no tension, both dogs got along, nothing was getting destroyed, life was good. But Mitch said, “Let’s just go take a look see. We don’t have to bring him home.” What a crock. Mitch knows me well enough to know that if I see him, we’ll be bringing him home. So long story short, we came home with a ninety five pound puppy. At five years old, The Drool Machine has wormed his way into our hearts, so he is here to stay.
A woman's view of hunting...with men 