About twelve years ago, I was in need of another labrador Retriever. I started talking to folks who breed Labradors and raise puppies. I was wanting a Chocolate Lab, but it seemed there was none to be found. I continued looking and talking to people, hoping to find exactly what I was looking for.
Finally, I heard about a litter of really well-bred puppies about an hour from my home. I called and talked with the owner of the puppies and a date was set to go pick one up. My nephew had just moved to Midville to live with us, and he had never been around puppies, so I took him along with me.
It was a beautiful litter of puppies to say the least and I was enamored with them all. I looked over at my young nephew and asked which one he liked. He pointed out the one that had captured his attention. I said pick that one up and put it in the truck. I paid the lady for the puppy, and we were off, headed back to Midville.
I watched my nephew ever so carefully handle that little brown ball of fur. He had her on the front seat with him in his lap for the ride home. We discussed names and I told him my process of naming puppies after old folks who I had great respect for. It was decided that we would name her Hattie Mae. Shortly thereafter, that little puppy and my nephew were sound asleep.
We made it back home and the fun of a new puppy soon began. I went to my parents’ house to take Dylan home and show off my new puppy. My daddy had just come home from the hospital and was excited to see that new puppy. I put the puppy in the bed with my daddy, and he just grinned from ear to ear. It was a joyful occasion.
It was not long after that wonderful afternoon that my daddy departed this earth. Having a new puppy around helped to lessen the sting of his death. I soon began working with the puppy and showing my nephew how to train a retriever as well. After a fair amount of time, it became apparent that the new puppy had no desire whatsoever to retrieve or get in the water.
I was in disbelief. She was extremely well-bred, super intelligent and as pretty as a picture. Honestly, it hurt my feelings pretty bad that my new puppy wouldn’t retrieve. Then the light came on in my head, and I knew why Hattie Mae wouldn’t retrieve. I gave Hattie to my mama.
My mama and that little puppy became inseparable and for the duration of my mama’s life, Hattie was her constant companion. That little brown ball of fur kept my mama from going crazy after my daddy died. I understood that Hattie was sent for my mama and not for me. It was unexpected.
My nephew took his own life in the spring of last year. He left behind a beautiful little boy and two dogs. I took possession of his dogs. He had a German Shorthaired Pointer and a little Boykin Spaniel. I had made arrangements for a friend to take the Shorthair and that little Boykin went to live with my mama and Hattie.
One of my birddogs, all of a sudden, became sick and I was heartbroken. Her name was Ruby, a lemon-eared pointer and she owned not only my heart, but a big piece of my soul. She was as good a birddog as I ever owned. She was an old soul. When she was about four years old, seemingly overnight, she started acting like an old dog. Her pace slowed down and she became so methodical, handling wild birds like she was an old, old dog.
We were in Texas and finding birds. I had Ruby on the ground, and she was putting on a show. We were hunting one afternoon next to the riverbed. It was classic Texas quail habitat, native grasses all around and a few mesquite bushes here and there as well as some shinnery. Ruby started trailing birds.
I just stood and watched as she trailed the covey of birds for over two hundred yards. She would point, the birds would run, and she would be after them again. Finally, she hemmed them up on the top of a little hill. She had them. That memory will be forever etched in my mind.
Ruby was dying and I knew it. I laid down on the concrete next to her in her pen. I cried like a baby. I was holding her in my arms when she left this earth. I have lost many dogs in my life, but Ruby was special, and her loss took a toll on me. It was unexpected.
The next day, I was pondering all that had happened and trying to discern what to do about getting another dog. Once again, that light came on in my head. I went to see my friend that I had promised my nephew’s birddog to. I looked him square in the eyes and said I don’t usually go back on my word, but I need to keep that Shorthair. He understood.
Mama died in August, and I have been keeping Hattie and Bella (the little Boykin). Hattie has gotten old, and I knew Bella needed a home where she could be loved and maybe even hunted some. I made a post on Facebook hoping to find her a home. A friend from Millen called. He had lost his Boykin back in June but said he didn’t know if he was ready for another dog.
He said he would come get her if he didn’t change his mind. I understood. The next day, one of my nephew’s best friends called. He wanted Bella. It was unexpected. I said son, I promised her to a friend, but let me call him. I talked to my friend, and I told him the story. He said he understood and by all means let that young man take her. Once again, it was unexpected……
