One Nation, Under God

Dot's first season was encouraging

It’s been a little more than a year ago now that my dog Ruth died of a brain tumor.

She wasn’t yet three years old, and had already turned into a wonderful bird dog. She had a good nose, was enthusiastic, and retrieved anything I shot. She was also a sweet dog.

I’ve mourned the passing of a lot of dogs, but Ruth’s death was particularly difficult for me. I still don’t understand why. Maybe it was because her passing was so unexpected. Maybe it was because she was going to be my last dog. I’d hoped to hunt her until I was in my eighties, and then we’d both retire to a warm spot in front of the fire where we’d doze and dream of birds.

I tried to get another puppy last spring, but like many things in this tumultuous year it didn’t work out. I still had two dogs, but Jem, at nearly 14, no longer hunted, and Ace, going on nine, didn’t have too many years left, either.

I put my hopes on a litter expected later in the summer, and Barb and I picked out our new pup in August.

Dot joined us in the middle of September, the same day Jem left us. The two black and white springers even met before Jem’s final trip to the vet. In typical Jem fashion he showed his teeth when the tiny puppy came too close.

For a couple of months this fall Dot stayed home while I hunted with Ace. Then a few weeks ago I started taking her along when we hunted sharptails on the CMR National Wildlife Refuge. The country there is covered with sage and shortgrass making it easy to keep track of a small dog.

It’s worked out well.

She’s not gun shy, follows the lead of Ace (a close-working dog who she adores), and comes promptly to the whistle.

I’m not yet ready to hunt her in the cattails where she’ll be out of sight, so for the time being she’s a grouse dog and loving it. There are plenty of sharptail and lots of scent.

I’m also training Dot not to expect a bird to fall out of the sky every time I shoot. It’s a lesson all my dogs have learned.

I ‘m trying not to get so attached. I kick myself every time I call her Ruth. She is, after all, just a dog. Like all the others.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]

 

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