My Buddy...

Originally posted on my old blog, on May 20 of 2012...

It is no secret that the bond between a man and his dog is a strong one.  Especially if that man is a bird hunter and his dog is a bird dog.  From the time that dog is brought home as a clumsy, curious and adorable pup, the man and his dog become not only pet and owner, but also hunting companions and best friends.  Such is the case with my black Labrador Retriever, Kody.

Don’t get me wrong, Kody is a knothead.  But he’s my knothead.  That big ox has had me smiling, swearing, laughing, frustrated and just plain old dumbfounded at times.  At times he’s made me proud and at other times he’s had me ready to leave him stranded in the woods while I pack up the truck and head home.  I’ve watched him do everything from eat goose poop to break ice just so he could swim during a terribly cold winter duck hunt.  He’s cuddled up with barn cats and scared Fed Ex drivers so badly that they won’t get out of the truck when they pull in the drive.  We’ve shared successful hunts together and non successful hunts.  He’s retrieved pheasants, grouse, woodcock, doves, ducks, geese and even a sparrow or two (or three, or four, or five).  I’ve watched him swim across a strong river’s current and find a dead mallard in the most impenetrable brush imaginable, yet I’ve also watched him walk right over a dead dove laying in plain sight that he couldn’t find.  Together we’ve shared everything from fajitas to cold beer, from campfires to ice cream.  He loves my family with a love so unconditional that if he were human, I would trust him with their lives.  Usually he loves to play, but once he sees me get out the shotgun, he goes into work mode.  When I’m shooting my bow in the backyard and in the few (okay, maybe more than I care to admit) instances that I miss the target and can’t find my arrow, I go get Kody out of the kennel.  I know he’ll come out there and when given the command “hunt it up”, he’ll rush out into the yard with his nose checking every square inch of ground until he suddenly stops, tail wagging rapidly.  It’s then that I know he’s found it and I had best get to it before he digs it up out of the grass and demolishes it.

When life, cars, teenage daughters, work or whatever it is has me frustrated, I know I can lean on him and vent without him telling me what a cry baby I am.  He’ll lay down at my feet while I smoke my pipe, give a large sigh because he would rather be out hunting, and fall asleep on the floor of my shop.  He’ll soon start snoring, no doubt dreaming of hunts gone by, until I get up out of my chair.  Then he suddenly is wide awake and following me every step.  His favorite place isn’t in his dog house, in a duck blind or even in the northwoods chasing grouse. Rather, it’s at my side.  I don’t know why and I can’t explain it.  But that’s where he wants to be 24/7 and I wish I could oblige him.

There is one emotion that Kody hasn’t caused me to feel quite yet and that’s sadness.  Someday he’ll take his last breath as I pet that head of his which is large enough to rest a small block V8 on, and I’ll cry like a baby as I feel the warmth steal away from him.  Then I’ll take him home and bury him out behind the barn where many days after I’ll walk out with a pipe in hand, sit down in the grass and talk to him.  I’ll miss him terribly.  But that’s the bittersweet price we pay for having a pet so wonderful and dear to our hearts.  Until that day comes, I can’t say whether or not I’ll get another dog after Kody’s gone.  I’ll deal with that decision when it comes.  However, I can say this…no dog will ever replace my buddy.  He’s one of a kind.

I know you will never read this Kody, but I love you buddy.  And I’m counting the days until hunting season, if for no other reason than to simply give you that which you deserve.  What’s that?  Yeah, I’ll quit with the mushy crap and get you a Milkbone now.  Knothead.