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.