Dogs

I love Labrador retrievers.  Really hasn't been another breed of dog that I've really grown fond of.  I like German Shepards, but I don't like how neurotic they are and all the hair they shed.  I like Golder Retrievers, but again, the hair they shed.  Rotts, well, those were veto'd by the wife, who's brother was attacked by one when they were younger.

I've owned a schnauzer and a Britney Spaniel (well, that was my sister's dog).  The schnauzer was ok, but barked all the time.  The britney was afraid of everything.  (Probably my fault for that as I lit off fireworks near it when it was young.  I get blamed for shit like that).

Anyways, nice dogs, but none of them could hold a candle to Murph.  The first Yellow Lab my father bought.  What an awesome dog.  Super well trained, as my father spent 20-30 minutes a day for over a year with her on her obiedience.  And, one hell of a hunter.  We hunted pheasant up in Nebraska, and although Murph was considered a water dog (ducks), my father had trained her for upland birds.

On opening weekends, my father and I would go with a group of about 20 other hunters and hunt some HUGE fields.  Half-cut corn, sorghum, wheat, etc...  We would walk in a U-shape spacing ourselves 10-15 yards apart, covering the entire field, and then have 4-5 guys at the end of the field "blocking".  Murphy was the only dog that was accepted by a lot of the other hunters, as she was better trained then any of the other dogs, and she could track down almost any downed bird. 

If a pheasant isn't killed outright by a shotgun blast, it usually lands and runs immediately.  And they don't run in a straight line.  Murph tracked down one bird that was knocked down on one side of the field....  It ran ahead, then right, then behind the line, then back in front of the line, then back behind it....  and Murph just kept her nose to the ground and kept on its scent.  The other hunters wanted to move on when she left the field and went down in a draw, but stopped immediately when she came up from the draw with the injured bird in her mouth.  They never doubted that she'd find a bird again after that incident.

Murph was a great dog.  As evidence, when she had to finally be put down (her organs were failing), one of my father's good friends who had hunted with them many times, took the time to hand-carve a plaque of her picture and name and gave it to my father.

When she died, it could possibly be one of the few times my father has shed tears.  Just something he doesn't do.  The dogs that we got after Murph just couldn't fill her shoes.  Rhuk, who was a chocolate, had hip dsyplasia which wouldn't allow her to hunt.  Kaci joined the family in the latter years of Murph's life, and probably didn't receive half the training that Murph received and had to fight for attention.

I ended up taking Kaci into my family, and she passed away about 3 years ago.  Now we have Maci.  My daughter's best friend in the whole world.  The bond that these two share is quite special. 

Funny how I started this blog to talk about how my dog has allergies and end up reminiscing about my old pets.