Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Hunting Dogs 2






The Flyers go up 2 games to nil over the hated Habs. This is a wonderful development. Sadly, in this corner of the Sporting World there is a a development that is not so wonderful.
My hunting buddy Ned lost his Black Lab recently. Puddy was one fine waterfowl dog and damn fine in field pursuits as well. After a recent trip to the Vet, Ned was advised that Puddy was terminally ill. Puddy was pictured in one of my early posts about hunting dogs and the special bond we hunters form with these loving, good natured and skillful companions. Puddy is pictured above in his camo vest in a snowy field at our Hunting Club. That is how I remember the "Pudster" as I called him. I hunted over this chap many times...and while my sorrow is exponentially less then Ned's, I still empathize and feel the loss.
I have posted 2 pictures of my hunting dog Archie. One is when he is on point during a pheasant hunt and another is Archie posing with the days bag from a hunt in the following season. Archie is a tremendous bird dog possesed of a great nose and an artful point, a great household pet and a stalwart companion to this writer...he is already 10 years old and the loss of Ned's dog is a harbringer of the inevitable loss I will experience some bleak and sorrowful day hence.
The other shot is of a beautiful Irish Setter owned by another hunting buddy. The last shot is a print of a Lab on the porch of a duck hunter's cabin. The dog seems eminently sad at being outside and seperated from his master. I hope Puddy,wherever his canine soul may reside, does not feel as the Lab in the painting. Here's to you Puddy...hunt 'em up.

3 comments:

  1. Sorry to hear of your friend's loss of his comrade.

    Will drink a toast to Puddy and for all hunters, home from the hill.

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  2. That's very sad, I'm sorry to hear that. I've always thought it would be wonderful to have a proper working dog that can be a companion in your sporting activities. Sadly, I live in London, where there's not much chance of that!

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  3. That is always a brutal day, well known to those of horse and hound or to anyone with a beloved pet.

    I'll never forget how helpless I felt seeing my [then] seven year old cry when his goldfish died.

    A toast to the Pudster tonight. Scotch whiskey.

    ML
    mlanesepic.blogspot.com

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