Every dog owner knows the inevitability of a dog’s life. I always knew the time would come, but never really thought of it until recently. Rock has not been eating, and the vet says his liver is failing. We have him on medicine to help with this, but I am afraid it is only a matter of time before I need to make the tough decision to let him go. Lying with him on the couch, I started to think back to all the good times we had together.
I have always wanted a pointing dog from the time I first started hunting, but my Dad hated dogs. No amount of begging or promises would change his mind when I was growing up. The first thing I did when I got a place of my own was to start looking. After endless deliberation, I decided a Viszla was the breed for me. Searching breeders, we found one we liked in NE Iowa, and made the drive down to pick one out. Looking for a female and double and triple checking all the dogs, I came home with a male we decided to call Rock. He snuggled in my wife’s lap on the way home, and threw up twice, but that did not matter. He was ours now and a little throw up was the least of our concerns.
Training started right away, and we both thoroughly enjoyed it. He was pointing at 8 weeks, and knew basic obedience at 12 weeks. Time went too quickly as it tends to do, but we hunted every chance we could. He quickly became the dog I had always hoped and begged for all those years.
After his first point and retrieve my heart almost burst with pride. I was so proud of him. We only got one bird that day, but it is my favorite hunt with him. I have the post hunt picture framed above my TV and look at it often, and can’t help but smile when I see it.
Of all the hunts with Rock, I can honestly say there were very few times when there was a better dog in the field with him. Some of the things he did were unmatched in my memories. The time Rock pointed one rooster 6 different times in a space of 20 yards. I patiently waited in one spot for him until 15 minutes later he could pinpoint the old boy, and how regal he looked when retrieving that bird.
The look he had when I missed a shot. The look all hunters instinctively know, but secretly dread. I could always picture him saying, “I did my part, where were you on that one!” He could do that look with the best of them, but always shook it off and found me another bird as soon as he could, he knew that was his job.
The first true double I had with him, one bird flew west and the other east. I dropped both birds with one shot each and the look on his face was priceless. I pointed him west, and I went east. I was picking up my bird when he came with his. Many of the other hunts tend to blur together, but one thing was always consistent, Rock and I together, before during and after each hunt, just the two of us.
The way he would check back in heavy cover by standing on his hind legs and jumping until he could find me. Just making sure he knew where I was, and that he was not too far for a good shot. I wish I could take credit for training this, but I think he always wanted to be near me, whether hunting or not, and this was his way of double checking.
The fishing trips together became a staple of our summers. He was with me on almost all of my trips. The cold days he would tuck under my console when we were moving to stay warm. The warm days he was up front with his face in the wind. The day when he decided that the duck 50 yards away was way too close and jumped in the early March river to get him. That trip ended early as we beat a hasty retreat to the access and a warm dry truck. There are not many of my PB fish caught without Rock looking on with interest, and maybe a quick lick of the fish before we sent it on its way. I think it was just his way of wishing the fish happy travels.
But now the time has come to make the ultimate decision. I know where I want to put him, right where he pointed his first rooster on my Dad’s farm. I know the travel will be hard for him, but just this once I think I will carry him after he has walked by my side so often for 8 years. For once, he will be my burden to bear, and I will do it with a heavy heart.
I know when that time comes; it will be the hardest thing I have had to do. How do you say goodbye to a creature that has loved you unconditionally and with his full heart for 8 years? I don’t think there is an answer to that. I told my 3 year old son last night that we may need to say goodbye to Rock soon, and after we said he would go to heaven, he said “That’s OK Daddy, he can hunt pheasants with Jesus.” Yeah, he can hunt pheasant with Jesus, and I hope that Jesus does not miss the shot and have to get “The Look”.
They say that you are only given a great dog once in your life. I know Rock was mine. I will miss him and think of him often, until that day I can take over for Jesus, and once again, Rock and I can hunt together.
