There are few
bonds in this world that are stronger than those between a duck hunter and his
dog. This bond is formed through time spent together in the pursuit of an
activity that captivates both man and dog. It’s something that once formed can
never be broken.
I the spring
of 2014 I was in search of a duck dog. After posting my quest on a duck hunting
forum I belong to I was directed to a kennel in Marysville, California: a
kennel that specialized in Chesapeake Bay Retriever rescue dogs. I was told
there was a trained male there who still had a few years left in him and that
it might be worth my while to check it out. I contacted the kennel and they did
indeed have said dog, so I made an appointment to visit.
Upon arriving
the trainer got out the dog…a large, muscular male weighing in at roughly 100
lbs. She introduced me to Houli, then she put him through his paces. I liked
what I saw, an agreement was reached, and a partnership was begun.
It didn’t
take long to find out Houli had a one track mind…FETCH! He would fetch anything
you threw, bring it back, spin around and sit by my left side. He did that for
as long as you wanted to play. His drive was amazing. He was honestly the best
trained dog I had ever owned.
Chessies are
widely known to be a one person dog and it didn’t take long for him to decide
that I was his human. When I spoke, he listened. When others spoke it was as if
no sound came from their lips. He also ignored any and all other animals. Cats,
dogs…it didn’t matter. As far as Houli was concerned they were all beneath his
dignity and weren’t worth the effort of acknowledging.
When Houli
came into our lives he was pushing 8 years old. We spent two years hunting
together exploring the local marshes and rivers in search of waterfowl. He was
a wonderful retriever and once he was on the bird you never had to worry about
losing it. It was a joy to have him at my side in the field.
Before our
third season together the vet discovered some lumps on Houli’s leg. Much to our
horror it was cancer. Doc Spencer had a medication he’d developed that had
cured a good number of dogs in Houli’s situation so we started treatment. For
awhile he was improving and we thought that perhaps we would all reach the
other side of the woods together. Then one day he started having seizures. He
was placed on a seizure medication, but they got worse, and Doc said the cancer
had most likely spread to Houli’s brain. In the span of a week Houli went from
fetching like normal, to not being able to see, to not being able to move, all
the while enduring those damned seizures. We all knew the end of the line had
come.
Houli’s last
trip to the Doc’s office was in silence. When we got there my wife went in to
tell them we were there. While she was gone Houli had another seizure. I held
him and told him it was Okay, knowing full well it wasn’t. When the seizure was
done he sniffed my hand and wagged his tail even though he couldn’t move the
rest of his body. My wife motioned me in. I scooped up my friend and carried
him into the operating room and laid him on the table. Doc prepared a site for
the injections and I cried as I held my friend one last time as he slipped away
into the great marsh in the sky.
We have a new
dog now who is a wonderful boy and we love him dearly, but I can not look at a
picture of Houli without shedding a tear.
I miss you
buddy.
