The Last Hoorah

article by DAN CHASON

I cannot remember many times in my life where I did not have a four-legged companion to share my blind or trips afield with whether duck, hog, squirrel or rabbit hunting. Growing up, most of our dogs were mutts and their lineage questionable. Such was the case with the first lab we owned by the name of Smokey. Smokey was a black lab and was the pride and joy of my dad. But Smokey had some issues. One of these issues was captured by the local newspaper, when they did an article on Smokey and my dad. My dad was one of the local pastors and Smokey had developed a reputation that did not fit the bill of being a preacher’s dog; he was a thief. Smokey would go around the neighborhood and steal other dog’s dishes, and not just the dish mind you. I have seen him walking back to our yard, with a dish full of food, held carefully level in his mouth. He would bring the dish back and would only eat it once he had it in our yard. Over time, our yard looked like a display area for Tupperware as dish after dish would pile up due to his labors. The paper decided it was a unique story and dad was photographed pointing at the dog with the caption “Now See Here Smokey” with the article depicting a preacher who had quite the thief for a companion.

Smokey had one other attribute that was notable. We would tie him up for our weekly fishing trip so we could enjoy it undisturbed. We would just about get settled in our fishing hole when here Smokey would come, dragging the rope or leash he had chewed and without fail, swim out to our boat giving my brother, dad and me our morning shower. He just was not going to be left at home.

In the late 80’s, I became indulged in duck hunting. I had some leased blinds and found out very quickly that this set up required a lab. I bought my first working pair of labs, Ranger and Anna. Ranger was a AKC reject as he liked to use his nose and not run straight lines on a retrieve. This did not bother me as he was obedient and absolutely lived to please me. Anna on the other hand would retrieve but she was a handful. To describe her is to picture an 85-pound block of muscle who would kill for me. Her odd feature was that she thought my recliner was her spot when she was let inside, and it did not matter who was in that recliner. As soon as the back door opened, she went straight to the recliner to get in her spot. I will confess that this came in handy one day when I “accidentally” opened the back door due to an uninvited guest that didn’t know to go home at suppertime. Sure enough, when the door came open, Anna bounced in and right to the recliner onto the lap of our guest. Anna fixed that problem real fast.

Anna did produce some fine litters of hunting dogs. These dog’s blood lines are still scattered around the country to this day. She was an exceptional dog and I certainly miss her and Ranger. After Anna and Ranger died, I figured I was out of the dog business. My heart was broken and I just didn’t think I could ever have another one. Then came Zack. A gentleman called me and wanted to get rid of a very high blooded dog whose lineage including the number one lab in the country at the time. I took Zack on but will admit I did not think I would ever break him. He was like a wild stallion. But once under control, this dog was an unbelievable animal. In fact, one fellow hunter offered me a ton of money for him but by then there was no way I was letting him go.

I hunted Zack for 4 years when he unexpectedly died. I was crushed and it was over 15 years later before I would let another lab share my life. That lab, named Buddy, is still my companion today.

Buddy was a rescue dog and had the bad habit of chewing. I’m not talking chewing up a shoe, I’m talking seats on four wheelers, my boat cover, waders and anything else close. I noticed that he did this mainly when I left him to go hunting or fishing. What I discovered after a while was that this dog had separation anxiety. I stopped putting him in a kennel and soon noticed that he had a knack that I have never seen in a lab… he hates squirrels. Long story short is that Buddy became a squirrel hunting machine. In fact, he became much more than that. He will retrieve ducks, hunt squirrels or anything else. One day I was checking feeders and had eight piglets feeding on the corn. I shot and killed three when I turned to see that Buddy was no longer in the bed of my side-by-side. About four minutes later, I heard a pig squeal, and my first thought was that mama pig was in battle with my dog. You can imagine my surprise when Buddy returned with a baby pig in his mouth with a look that said, “We pig hunting today, Dad?”

The sad point today is that Buddy has gotten old. His muzzle is grey and arthritis is a daily battle. He still has the heart of a hunter and not a day goes by that he doesn’t tree squirrels in my yard. But regular trips to the vet keep him comfortable and it makes me so sad to leave him when I head to the blind. My wife says he is depressed so I wait and put on my hunting clothes when I get to the camp. When he sees me in hunting clothes or sees me load a gun into my truck, he is at the tailgate wanting to load. Even if his tired joints and muscles won’t keep up with his heart. I am left with our memories as our days together in the woods are over.

At least full-time, as I’m sure we will spend at least one more trip for that last hunting memory. But for now, he can lay in my recliner and know that he has a place in my heart, just like his predecessors. But a memory I’ll cherish forever.