Some may say that I am completely biased, but I firmly believe that every boy needs a good dog. They say that a dog is man’s best friend. Not every man remembers that, but there are few young boys that ever forget it. This story is about me, my family, our dogs, and the little boy inside me that never forgot the importance of a good dog. (I am sure that one of these days there will be a post that defines what a good dog really is.)
I guess that I was cursed from the beginning.
Dad came from Mormon pioneer stock and has the mountains and desert in his blood. I think that I got a double dose of his blood. Either that or the love of the mountains and desert is definitely a dominate trait. Some of my fondest memories are of our adventures out in the ‘hills.’
Mom came from New England protestant lines and brought with her culture and an overwhelming love of education. At almost 69 years of age mom can still quote every poem she memorized in 8th grade. Mom has never accused me of lacking when it comes to hunting, fishing, and my other outdoor endeavors but she has mentioned a time or two my lack of ‘culture.’
As a young boy, life was good. Camping, hunting, and fishing were an important part of life. Those experiences and the visits to extended family are the memories that come most easily to mind.
Tick was our first dog, at least the first that I remember. She was a German Shorthaired Pointer. Dad was not a dog trainer but he was a hunter and loved bird hunting. He had grown up with quail in southern Arizona. Back in the days when he was attending school at Brigham Young University, there was still great pheasant hunting all over Utah.
Tick taught dad an important lesson: although he didn’t really know anything about training bird dogs and even though she was young, she was a well bred bird dog and she naturally knew how to hunt. The first time she went on point, dad told her that she was too young and that she didn’t really know what she was doing. The pheasant the soon flushed convinced him otherwise.
Unfortunately, for a young boy and dog, dad became an active duty Chaplain in the US Navy. Navy life was fun and very educational, but didn’t allow us to keep a hunting dog. We still had many adventures: traveling all over the country, meeting new people, fishing on the beaches, catching squid down at the peers, and countless other experiences made up the rest of my childhood and adolescence.
The trips back home, to Arizona, are still remembered as some of the highlights of those years. Those trips were full of camping, hiking, hunting, and floating flies down streams and across a beaver pounds. Such activities (at least when coupled with the ‘unpleasant’ things that good parents make one do, such as chores, homework, and service) lay the foundation for a successful life.
Stepping forward a few years. My wife was pregnant with our third child. I was back in school, working on my masters degree, and money was tight. We were living in hunting country and the little boy in me could hardly be contained and so badly wanted a pup. My dear wife added some of her hard earned money (from baby sitting) to help me get a pup.
Being that the only hunting dog I had every had was a GSP, that is of course what I wanted. The internet was still young but was growing. I read everything that I could get my hands on and researched every breeder that I could find online. I was a complete novice but I had an idea of what I wanted. I wanted a close hunting pointing dog, that would fit well with my family. I wanted a dog that would hunt waterfowl with me and that would retrieve rabbits when I was chasing them.
My research reinforced my desire for a GSP but focused it more on the German bred GSP or the Deutsch Kurzhaar. I ended up with Chester, a GSP out of two imported DK. He was all the dog that I could have ever wanted … and then more. He had all the natural abilities to everything that I had every imagined. He had more desire than I had ever seen before.
The first time I took Chester hunting (right around six months old) he pointed six rooster pheasant for me. I shot 3 of them, which he immediately retrieved to hand. In the duck blind, the same season, it did not matter how cold it was or how few ducks were flying, he would wait eagerly for the chance to make a retrieve. Back home in Arizona, Chester would wade through the cactus to find us quail and would expertly track down those wounded but running birds.
Unfortunately, the very next season Chester was boarding outside our home, while were in the middle of a move. The kennel, where he was staying, was broken and he got out on the highway and died.
The next several years were a bit chaotic and moves were reminiscent of my military upbringing. I have felt somewhat like Peter Panning, in the movie Hook. The ‘little boy’ in me was forced down deep and needed encouragement to come back out. Hunting, fishing, dogs, etc all sounded fun and were occasionally experiences. There were, however, to many excuses to make them a solid part of one’s life, i.e. no time, no money, too little motivation, etc.
We now have six wonderful children. They are growing up too fast. They are missing out on too many opportunities to gather the childhood memories that I hold so dear. Dad is getting older every year. I don’t know how many more hunting seasons he has left in him. These and other thing have been helping awaken the little boy inside me. For the last couple years I have been going to get a pup in a year or two, when we are more settled, or when we can afford it.
In January, after shooting some quail with my dad and my oldest son (without a dog) I decided that the time had come to fully awaken and make a pup once again a part of our family. Ever since that day, I have been like a little boy on Christmas Eve. It feels really good to be once again excited about the things a boy should be excited about. I am getting a pup! a well bred hunting dog! My family and I are going to get some great hunting experiences and we are going to help our kids grow many wonderful memories to add to the foundation of their successful lives. Dad is going to be somewhat repaid for all the trips he took us and, as we take him out for the next several years.
I guess that it isn’t really about dogs, camping, hunting, or fishing. It is really about love and relationships. Only sometimes, a good dog makes that a bit easier. Maybe that is why a dog is a man’s best friend.
