Post
by Oysterman » Tue Jan 08, 2013 11:18 pm
This dog is not like any gun dog I have owned in the past. Over the years, I have owned several breeds and several good dogs. Setters that could find birds in thickets that were impenetrable, a Brittany that was so mischievous that her name (Pat) was changed to Pi**ed, labs that hunted all day with as much energy at the end of the day as they had at the beginning of the day and a GSP that ran so far ahead that I was in excellent shape the entire time I had her. But maybe most special was a Golden retriever that was my buddy for fourteen years and my hunting buddy for eight of those years.
As much at home in the cane rows as in the duck blind, this dog came everywhere with me. He was my constant companion as I taught in the local university. He would roam the classroom, irritating students as they took notes in class, and sat at my desk as I conducted scientific experiments. Visits to the local post office generated new friendships as he greeted everyone in the building like a long-lost relative with money to share. What a dog! Sleeping at my feet in the evening, curling up next to my bed at night and waiting for the strip of bacon in the morning; this animal was more like a son than a pet. Fourteen years of love, laughter and life, cut short by kidney failure. A sense of loss that was different than losing a relative but certainly as painful as losing a friend.
For three years, I sat alone without a buddy. My wife could not understand the sadness that accompanied me those three years but she tried to relieve it. I was determined never to get another hunting buddy. Who could replace my friend? Who could fill the void? Who would walk the fields the way that he did? The answer is no one. No one could.
Fast forward to three years ago. One of my student's parents decided to give up their golden retriever. Quite a beautiful dog. Of a lineage of show dogs that had no field experience, what would I do with an animal like that? Well, my daughter was expecting a child and I figured I could give this dog a good home and give my grandchild a good pet. When we brought Beau home, I was hooked. This dog will never hunt. This dog has absolutely nothing in common with my old dog but he has wormed his way into my heart.
What connects me to him? Healing. This dog has taken the sting out of losing my old buddy. Surely not my hunting companion but he has become my new best friend. Just like my old boy, he lives inside my house. He shares breakfast, lunch and dinner with me. Constantly under my feet, he sits with me anywhere I am and sleeps in my room. He is so different than my old dog but he has lightened my heart. He has made it possible for me to love a dog again like I used to.
What connects me to him? Love. Always patient, always accepting, always forgiving and always present, he just wants to be near me. My wife has noticed that there is a new spring in the old step. I laugh more these days. I enjoy my walks again. My granddaughter laughs with me and loves him just as much. He watches her better than I do. He is constantly by her side when she is around, never pushing but always supporting.
What connects me to him? My old boy who just left me. Every now and then, when I look at Beau, I see my old boy again. Smiling at me. "Hey, Dad," he says without speaking, "I'm still here and I still love you."
Connections never end.
Miss you, Cal
nor does she heel
There was no sense going any further - it would never work anyway.
