teamatomic
09-19-2007, 11:12 PM
Wednesday - September 19, 2007
What a beautiful day for bird hunting. Sunny with a light breeze
and temps in the mid to high seventies. There were many days like
this that Moon and I spent in the woods. I hunted pats and she
just ran along ahead of me. For a brit she didn't much hunt, but
then I never bothered to train her or get her trained. It didn't
matter to me. I just wanted a dog that could run for miles all day
long, from dawn to dusk. And that she would do. I would walk four
to six miles of trails, edges and hill-sides and she would put on
the miles. I never really counted the miles for her but she would
run at least three and maybe more like five for every one of mine.
The day I got her was a nice August day in 1990. Hot and sunny all
over the mid-west, or maybe it was the worst thunderstorms in years.
I don't really remember for sure what it was like, but to me it was
the best day ever. It was the first road trip for my shiny new red
F-150. I bought the truck and Pat bought the dog. It was my birthday
present from her for that year. And as it turned out it was the best
present I ever got. No birthday or Christmas present ever matched or
even came close to her.
She came from a long line of field champions on both sides. Not show
dogs but working hunting dogs. The kind that are bred smart, and smart
she was. When we got to the farm house it was mid afternoon, the Lady of
the house offered us some lemon-aide and we gratefully accepted it.
The pups, or what was left were in the basement. The mother was not
bothered that we were there, it was like she was just waiting for the
rest to go so she could get on with life. I wanted a female dog and she was
the only one left. She wasn't the runt of the litter but she was surely
second runt. Small and quiet, not scared and shaking but just quiet.
Guess to her there was nothing to get excited about, she'd been picked
over every time so why should this one be any different. But I picked
her up and held her little body and she was mine. I had her name picked
out already, Moon-Biter Rainbow. That was her papered name. But to me
she was just plain old moon.
We went every where together. She was a fixture hanging out
the passenger window of my truck. Head to the wind, watching
everything that went by. In the winter she had her head pressed
right up against the windshield, slobbering all over the dash.
I don't know why but for years she decided she had to lick the
inside of the windshield, leaving it coated with a thick layer
of her slobbery goo. I got tired of having to wash the windshield
but I never bothered to stop her from licking away, I had too
much fun just laughing as she went at it. Finally when she was
ten or twelve or so she just flat out stopped doing it, no real
reason I could see, she just stopped.
My red ford got old just as moon did, and as the truck wore out
so did she. She developed a slight limp sometimes with her right
front leg, but she didn't let it stop her. Her sight went and she
couldn't hear or smell very well any more. She could no longer
cover ground like she used to. Now she just walked along beside me,
enjoying the same things I did. Things like the smell of autumn in
the woods. The smell of the creek, fresh water mixed with growing
green things. The flush of a pat and the twitter of a woodcock.
The breeze rustling the leaves. Birds chirping and singing. Squirrels
scolding us as we went by. These are what we enjoyed together.
The red ford up and died, well, I just retired it before it died,
but it was as good as dead. I bought a 2003 ranger the fall of 2007.
Moon only got to take one ride in that truck. I loaded her up and we went
to one of our favorite spots. An opening in the pines just off the old
rock lake road. When we would stop there, I would have a smoke and
she would take off running. Ten or fifteen minutes later I would hear
her barking her shrill yap when she was on something. I never knew what,
but before long you would not even be able to hear her barking any more.
Any where from a half-hour to an hour later she would come back, her
tongue hanging out and her front all covered in slobber and dirt.
Happy as a pig in poop.
The last day for her was easy. After one stroke too many she just layed
her tired head down. She didn't move much, guess she couldn't. I petted
her for a long time and during it she lifted her head and turned it to
look at me. She never really looked directly in my eyes, just at me. But
this time she stared me down, right in the eyes. And hers were sad. I
could see it. They were not dull and listless, just sad and tired, saying
good-bye and thanks for the memories. It wasn't long after that.
She never came back from that ride, she stayed in our spot. Its now her
spot forever.
What a beautiful day for bird hunting. Sunny with a light breeze
and temps in the mid to high seventies. There were many days like
this that Moon and I spent in the woods. I hunted pats and she
just ran along ahead of me. For a brit she didn't much hunt, but
then I never bothered to train her or get her trained. It didn't
matter to me. I just wanted a dog that could run for miles all day
long, from dawn to dusk. And that she would do. I would walk four
to six miles of trails, edges and hill-sides and she would put on
the miles. I never really counted the miles for her but she would
run at least three and maybe more like five for every one of mine.
The day I got her was a nice August day in 1990. Hot and sunny all
over the mid-west, or maybe it was the worst thunderstorms in years.
I don't really remember for sure what it was like, but to me it was
the best day ever. It was the first road trip for my shiny new red
F-150. I bought the truck and Pat bought the dog. It was my birthday
present from her for that year. And as it turned out it was the best
present I ever got. No birthday or Christmas present ever matched or
even came close to her.
She came from a long line of field champions on both sides. Not show
dogs but working hunting dogs. The kind that are bred smart, and smart
she was. When we got to the farm house it was mid afternoon, the Lady of
the house offered us some lemon-aide and we gratefully accepted it.
The pups, or what was left were in the basement. The mother was not
bothered that we were there, it was like she was just waiting for the
rest to go so she could get on with life. I wanted a female dog and she was
the only one left. She wasn't the runt of the litter but she was surely
second runt. Small and quiet, not scared and shaking but just quiet.
Guess to her there was nothing to get excited about, she'd been picked
over every time so why should this one be any different. But I picked
her up and held her little body and she was mine. I had her name picked
out already, Moon-Biter Rainbow. That was her papered name. But to me
she was just plain old moon.
We went every where together. She was a fixture hanging out
the passenger window of my truck. Head to the wind, watching
everything that went by. In the winter she had her head pressed
right up against the windshield, slobbering all over the dash.
I don't know why but for years she decided she had to lick the
inside of the windshield, leaving it coated with a thick layer
of her slobbery goo. I got tired of having to wash the windshield
but I never bothered to stop her from licking away, I had too
much fun just laughing as she went at it. Finally when she was
ten or twelve or so she just flat out stopped doing it, no real
reason I could see, she just stopped.
My red ford got old just as moon did, and as the truck wore out
so did she. She developed a slight limp sometimes with her right
front leg, but she didn't let it stop her. Her sight went and she
couldn't hear or smell very well any more. She could no longer
cover ground like she used to. Now she just walked along beside me,
enjoying the same things I did. Things like the smell of autumn in
the woods. The smell of the creek, fresh water mixed with growing
green things. The flush of a pat and the twitter of a woodcock.
The breeze rustling the leaves. Birds chirping and singing. Squirrels
scolding us as we went by. These are what we enjoyed together.
The red ford up and died, well, I just retired it before it died,
but it was as good as dead. I bought a 2003 ranger the fall of 2007.
Moon only got to take one ride in that truck. I loaded her up and we went
to one of our favorite spots. An opening in the pines just off the old
rock lake road. When we would stop there, I would have a smoke and
she would take off running. Ten or fifteen minutes later I would hear
her barking her shrill yap when she was on something. I never knew what,
but before long you would not even be able to hear her barking any more.
Any where from a half-hour to an hour later she would come back, her
tongue hanging out and her front all covered in slobber and dirt.
Happy as a pig in poop.
The last day for her was easy. After one stroke too many she just layed
her tired head down. She didn't move much, guess she couldn't. I petted
her for a long time and during it she lifted her head and turned it to
look at me. She never really looked directly in my eyes, just at me. But
this time she stared me down, right in the eyes. And hers were sad. I
could see it. They were not dull and listless, just sad and tired, saying
good-bye and thanks for the memories. It wasn't long after that.
She never came back from that ride, she stayed in our spot. Its now her
spot forever.