Adieu To A Best Friend

In the fast paced world of today, it is all too easy to lose sight of the things that are truly important in life. We tend to become absorbed in the turmoil swirling around us and fail to notice the simple beauty of life. Those in search of a best friend have never experienced the limitless friendship of a loyal hunting dog. My family has been lucky enough to have spent the past 12 years in the presence of such a friend.

We got our little bundle of brown fur with over sized feet and an otter like tail over a decade ago. The Lion King was all the rage at the time, so for luck, we named her Nala in honor of the young female lion cub from this film. As with all Labradors, Nala's primary concern was food, followed closely by extended periods of romping. She quickly became a valued member of our home. Her cheerfulness was infectious. By 4 months she had mastered the art of fishing for brook trout in the fast moving creeks of the Colorado Rockies. We didn't catch many fish. I think they didn't appreciate her jumping into the water trying to catch them in her mouth before I had even wet my line. Her eagerness to catch fish paid off by the age of two. Once while jump shooting ducks on the South Platte River between Eleven Mile and Antero Reservoirs, much to my chagrin, I turned around to see her crossing the river with a large Kokanee in her mouth. The spawn was on and fish were everywhere. I reminded her that she was fishing in a barbless hook fly area and told her that she had to release the fish unharmed. Unperturbed, she did as told and ended up retrieving a limit of greenheads on that cold autumn day.

All great hunting dogs teach their handlers more than the handlers teach their canine charges. Once a handler teaches a dog to come, sit, stay, heel, follow voice and whistle commands, and not jump the gun, he is ready for the dog to instruct him on the most efficient ways to make game. So it was with Nala. She regularly reminded me of Homo sapiens deficiencies as a bird hunter. More than once, I was sure that she had lost her mind as she worked quail or pheasant cover that she, not I, had selected. After all, I knew where the birds were. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to apologize to a set of piercing canine eyes for missing birds while at the same time trying to shuck your expended shells from your breech? I'll go to my grave believing that I actually saw her shaking her head in disgust at my shotgunning skills as she trotted off to work the next bit of cover. More than I care to admit, she retrieved birds that I didn't even see fall. We hunted Gambels and Scaled quail for an entire season in West Texas one year. I scolded her the first couple of times that she refused to leave the area that the birds had flown towards after I had shot. However, after having brought unseen downed game to hand on more than one occasion, I learned to keep my opinions to myself.

As with all Labradors, Nala lived for waterfowl hunting. Her exploits in the marshes could fill a large book. I'll never understand just how she knew birds were inbound but, she could be sound asleep at my side and suddenly wake up and watch the skies over the decoys. I quickly learned that this was my cue to get ready for action. She also learned, on the rare occasion that I was awake while she was dozing, to listen for my gun safety to be clicked off. I will miss her gently pulling my hat off by the bill, her body warmth, and goofy Lab nibbles in a cold duck blind.

Hunting was only a portion of Nala's life. She was central to our home. My wife was her closest friend. Being girls, they related well. They watched TV together, did chores, and played. Nala's toy container would be the envy of many a child. I think she enjoyed pulling them all out and spreading them around the house and then kicking back and watching my wife pick them all up. Our cats adored her. Ebenezer, our youngest cat, dared to steal food while Nala ate from her bowl. Nala never complained. Sometimes she growled at the cats but they didn't believe her. In fact, they usually sniffed her face while she was growling at them.

Unfortunately, life is a circle and Nala's has been completed. Tomorrow she will venture forth to a new hunting covert where the gamebirds are plentiful, hold tight, and the gunner she is working with never misses. Cancer has destroyed her present form. To say that I will miss her is an understatement. Hunt 'em up, girl!

De Oppresso Liber