# Old Dogs I Have Known



## vdogs (Sep 22, 2007)

I remember..it was a warm Saturday afternoon in September, 1964 when Dad came home with a beautiful, liver/roan male Gsp. "Fritz" was 18 months old at the time and man, what a looker! He had a large frame, with gorgeous confirmation, and a gait that was soothing to the eye. Dad said he was out of "field Trial stock" and if he panned out, he would add a little more run to our line.

After working with Fritz in the yard for a couple weeks to become familar, Dad decided it was time to take him out for a run on some chuks. We headed out to our favorite spot and dropped the tailgate about 8:am and off we went! Fritz lit out with after burners aglow and we soon realized, we were dogless! :shock: We searched each and every side canyon until about 1:30 and then, without warning, Fritz came racing past us! Once again, he was gone in a flash!! Dad was cussin' like I'd never heard before (and he cussed a lot). :lol: Sometime later in the afternoon, we found Fritz locked up on point in a shallow bowl. I have no idea how long he'd had 'em pinned, but I believe to this day he was sleeping on his feet when we arrived! By now, Dad was so pissed, he couldn't focus on the job at hand. When the covey flushed, nearly 30 birds sailed away across the canyon completely unscathed! And this..from a "500 straight", trap shootin' fool! :shock: :lol: Took us another two hours to round Fritz up and we called it a day!  

From that day on, we'd hunt Fritz in tandem with a 3-year old female we had named Babe. She was a close workin' (German bred) gal and she was as reliable as night and day! Every hunt from then on would go somethin' like this; we'd drop the tailgate, Fritz would rocket outta there, and we'd have a nice morning hunt with Babe! Later in the day, we'd come across Fritz "on point" and we'd get a chance to drop one er two for him! It seemed to work for us, well not really but, Dad had paid too much for Fritz to admit "he was a good fer nothin' runaway"! :lol: 

Nearly every hunt with Fritz ended with Dad cussin, shootin' in the air trying to get Fritz to come back to the truck, and then us drivin' off slow for a distance down the dirt road until Dad spotted Fritz in the rear view mirror. He'd be runnin' for all he was worth trying to catch up! I loved that dog! :wink: 

Rick

Please add your stories of "Old Dogs YOU Have Known".


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## .45 (Sep 21, 2007)

That's a good story GSPman !!  

I really like reading stuff like that,and for some reason, I really like Fritz....  

What a wacky dog !!


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## The Naturalist (Oct 13, 2007)

That story reminds me of the show "Funny Farm" with Chevy Chase. He has a dog take off on him and every once in a while he would catch a glimpse of the dog running in the distance. Cool show.

Best hunting dog I ever had was a Black Lab named Mo. He loved pheasant season. If there was a bird in a field, ditch, cattails, etc. he would find it, his only fault is he did tend to get a bit ahead of me. So I decided to try him one year on Grouse. It was 1976, I was newly married, working my way through college at a Mens Clothing Store. I didn't have classes one day and I didn't have to be to work till later in the afternoon, so I headed up to Lost Creek early in the morning (this was before all of the west side was posted private). Mo stayed fairly close as I worked my way towards a ridge top, but once I got on top I lost track of Mo in a stand of Aspen. I called, whistled, searched, couldn't find him anywhere. Finally I spotted him about 300 yards ahead of me in the bottom of the draw working around a Beaver pond. I thought heck he has found some birds around the pond and I won't get there before they jump. I headed down fast. When I got to the pond - no Mo! Again, I hollered, whistled, searched up and down ridge after ridge for hours and still no Mo. Finally time came I had to be to work. No cell phones. I knew my new bride of four months would be worried if I didn't show, and my boss would be ticked, so I decided I better head home.
I was absolutely sick! The only thing I could figure is he jumped some birds at the pond or perhaps a hare or a cottontail, and took off after them. After I told my wife what had happened, I put in my shift at work, then it was too dark to go back and start looking. So I told my wife that I would sluff school the next morning and head back up to Lost Creek ( in my '75 black Duster  ). 
I got to Lost Creek right as it got light (right at the top of the dam). Stepped out of the car, yelled for Mo, and he came a running from the hillside like nothing at all had happened, and a look on his face like "thanks for the night out", not a mark, or scratch, or tick on him. He then jumped into the back seat and we went home.


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## vdogs (Sep 22, 2007)

In 1968, the same year my folks divorced, a neighbor's Lab had a litter of 11 pups. They were Lab x German Shepard cross and a motley crew for sure! I had the chance to pic one as Mom knew, with the hunting dogs gone with Dad, I needed something to focus on. I looked the litter over carefully and finally settled on a male strictly because his coat resembled that of a Coyote! "Slim" became my new side kick and through that Summer, we were always together. 

When we made the move to Salt Lake City in September that year, Slim was in the back of the big truck anxious to see his new home as well. The truck broke down in Bountiful and we had to leave it on the side of the road. It was a large flat bed with 8 ft. plywood sides and 4 ft. tailgate. I was sick when we had to leave Slim in the back of the truck fearing he would get out and be gone. When we got back the next day, there was Slim laying under the truck in the shade right next to I-15! He'd had the good sense to stay right there rather than get out on the road!

Over the next couple years Slim became a decent Pheasant dog, learning the ropes as he and I explored the fields and Rail Road tracks around our new home. On occasion, he would even point a bird, and sometimes catch one!

The most memorable thing Slim did was; he was lost once on a rock hauling trip up near the Utah/Idaho line near the small town of Strevell (sp) Idaho. We made this trip every week or so and we always stopped at the same two Cafe's along the way. One was the old X-Roads Cafe in Tremonton, and the other was a little place in Snowville. Well, after Slim had been missing a full week, we were heading back up to Dove Creek for another load of stone and we pulled into the X-Roads Cafe there in Tremonton. There was Silm, laying on the mat at the front door! The owner said he had been there for two days nursing sore feet. It was clear, Slim knew we would be showing up there sooner or later. He had traveled over 70 miles in less than a week!

Slim was eventually lost on another rock hauling trip. He had taken off chasing a Coyote..and we never saw him again! I've always thought it was ironic...I chose him from the litter because his coat resembled a Coyote..and I lost him when he ran off with one!


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## vdogs (Sep 22, 2007)

It was "Deer Hunt" 1971 and my Step Dad's family had gathered down in Flat Canyon (Central Ut) like they always do for the annual week long hunt. Opening day saw four nice bucks taken by our group, all of them down low in the Juniper covered foothills just above the alfalfa. Yes, it seemed this was going to be another memorable hunt for sure!

About 4m the second day, my Uncle returned to the main camp and told us he'd made a poor shot on a nice buck about 3 miles back in Timber Canyon. We all gathered our gear (including flashlights) and headed on up the canyon. "Stump" tagged along as he always did when there was "sniffin'" to be done. At the time, Stump was an eight year old, three legged Border Collie that lived there on the Ranch. Nobody knew for sure how he lost his right hind leg, just below the hock. It was assumed he'd been caught in a Trapper's set. Stump was well known in our group for his trackin' ability and he rarely came up empty when he set his nose to the track. We hiked for an hour and a half to reach the spot my uncle said he'd taken the shot. After goin' over the area where the buck had been standing, we had found very little blood. That didn't seem to matter much to Stump! He headed up a draw in a hurray and we thought the search would be over quickly. Well, we lost track of Stump when darkness set in and after searching for two hours in darkness to no avail, we headed back to camp. Well, all except ol' Stump!

The next morning at the first hint of light in the Eastern sky, we were awakened by the soft barking of our friend ol' Stump. A few of us got up and dressed, still exhausted from the search the night before. Stump was showing a lot of anxiety so "unc" said we needed to follow him! Well, we did and about an hour later, Stump delivered us right to a beautiful typical four point buck! The buck was still warm and had made it's way about half way down the canyon towards our camp. To this day, we all believe ol' Stump rounded that critter up in the night and drove him back towards camp as far as the animal could go before dropping dead in his tracks! Atta boy Stump!!


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## Texscala (Sep 8, 2007)

You couldn't make stuff up and have it be any better. Dogs truly are amazing.


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## Texscala (Sep 8, 2007)

Here is one I plan on telling my kids about my current pup Arrow.

we had been trying to take our first chukar and after 5 trips had only seen one covey that never offered a shot. This day however as we headed back to the vehicle the EP we were with locked up and I whoaed Arrow to a stop. 

We came from both sides and 10 birds got up. I fired once and dropped my first chukar. The guy I was with fired a few times connecting on his first and second shots. Arrow retrieved my bird to hand and as she was running out for the retrieve I saw one of the chukars that had been hit run past me like a freight train (man those things can run). I was to focused on my bird and did not think to take the other one out. 

Once Arrow and I had the first chukar in hand the other guy caught up with his bird and asked about the runner. We figured we could follow his tracks in the snow and before long the EP locked up again on a large thick bush that was covered in snow. We kicked the bush dug in the snow and were about ready to give it up. Both dogs had been given the "hunt dead" command and were trying to find the bird. Arrow started whining and yelping like she was being beat as she dug into the snow. My partner said he hated to do this but that he thought it was a lost cause. 

I wanted to give arrow one last chance and put my gun down and dug a tunnel that lead deep into the snow and opened up at the base of the bush. Arrow dug a bit more and then jumped under the snow and seconds later a Chukar exploded out of the middle of the bush and took off down hill. Arrow broke through the branches and was right behind the bird. Before any of us could react Arrow caught the runner some70 yards away and with some coaching brought it to my feet. 

Not bad for a 7 month old pup on her second Chukar. We would have a similar experience a month later. That dog does not like to lose downed birds.


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## GaryFish (Sep 7, 2007)

A couple years ago, on the old DWR forum, someone posted up that they had an extra springer and were looking for a good home. Well, a couple PMs were exchanged and the next thing I knew, I was headed to Orem to meet the pooch. After some handshakes, the dog came out and took real good to me and pretty soon we were headed home with our new dog, "Trout." 

My oldest son is high functioning autistic, and had been having trouble in junior high. About every 10 days or so, it would become too much and he'd kind of freak out at school. I'd pull him for a day at work with Dad, and a chance to just take a break. 

When I brought Trout home, he hooked up with my son real quick. I gave my son the assignment that every day before school, and after school, he'd have to play fetch with Trout. He'd get home from a tough day at school and Trout greets him happy and ready with the tennis ball. My son throws and just laughs the entire time playing with him. Since he's had this new buddy, he's had NO melt downs at school and just made the honor roll for the 5th straight time, and also earned his Eagle Scout. That dog made a world of difference in my son and has a special bond that has increased his ability to function. Its been absolutely perfect.

Not much of a hunting story - but in the category of dogs I've known, in my eyes and what Trout has done for my son, I've never met a better dog.


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## deadicatedweim (Dec 18, 2007)

Those have all been good stories, keep them coming.


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## vdogs (Sep 22, 2007)

Awesome stories guys! We need more from the rest of ya!!  

GaryFish, that is amazing what Trout did for your son! Really made me feel good reading that!

Rick


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## The Naturalist (Oct 13, 2007)

The death of Mo.
Over the course of Mo's field experience I'm not sure if I could count the number of cats he tangled with (racoons weren't around then). Whether we were chasing pheasants, irrigating alfalfa, or just going for a walk through the fields, every once in a while we would come across one of them nasty critters. He loved to chomp the holy heck out of a cat, if he could get it. I even  , if he treed a cat up a fence post, would find a way to knock it down so he could have some more fun. It didn't seem to phase Mo how many licks the cat would get in on him he just kept at it until the cat was a mangled piece of fur. He would sometimes be cut up pretty bad. A big Tom can put up a pretty good fight.
Mo was getting fairly old, around 11 years, and not quite as agile as he once was. When Dad would be repairing a fence line or watering he would sometimes take Mo with him. On this ocassion, at the bottom of an Alfalfa field, along a fence line Mo tangled with a skunk. :evil: There was no way my Dad could get in there to break up that fight! He thought it must have went on for a good 15 minutes before Mo finally got the upper hand and finished off the skunk. However, it took quite a toll on old Mo, one from which he never recovered. He barely was able to get back to the house. He laid down on the grass totally exhausted. I'm not sure if it was his heart, a mouthfull of skunk juice, or a combination, but after two days of being down, and not eating, his whole body began quivering. We did all we could, but he was getting weaker and weaker.
It was a hard decision, but one my Wife and I, and my Parents knew had to be done. So I went out to a spot in the fields that Mo loved so much, dug a nice deep grave, laid him in it, and put Mo to rest.
Mo was a good friend and hunting buddy.


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## Loke (Sep 7, 2007)

Buck was a German Shepherd/Alaskan Malamute mix that I got when I was 10 or so. He had more misadventures than I can count (that is more than 3 so you don't have to say it Mr .45). One of the more memorable involved the neighbor's Doberman that was named Odie. Odie was allowed to roam the neighborhood, I guess he was too good for the leash laws. Buck was tethered to a chain in our back yard. Odie loved to stand just out of Buck's reach and pester the hell out of him. Now Odie was about 3 or 4 years old, and Buck was 12, and missing all but one of his canine teeth (aren't all of a dog's teeth canine teeth?). One afternoon I moved the chain so that some of the lawn could grow back. Buck went and sat down at the old limit of his chain as Odie made his rounds. Odie came over into the yard to tease the old dog, and Buck just waited. The look on Odie's face was priceless when he realized too late that Buck could reach him, and the fight was on. I had been under the impression that Dobermans were capable of putting up a good fight, but Odie sure didn't. I don't think that Odie ever came into our yard after that.


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## .45 (Sep 21, 2007)

The Naturalist said:


> It was a hard decision, but one my Wife and I, and my Parents knew had to be done. So I went out to a spot in the fields that Mo loved so much, dug a nice deep grave, laid him in it, and put Mo to rest.
> Mo was a good friend and hunting buddy.


   

That's what I had to do to my friend Mo, last year. Taz, Taz Mo, Slo Mo, Tazzy Mo, he had a bunch of names, a talking lab.......My son brought him home with no plan of_ ever_ taking care of him, cleaning up after him or feeding him. I hated that dog !! I took him for a ride one day and left him at a shopping center, I was too early for work so I stopped for coffee down the road to celebrate what I had done.

45 minutes later, I felt guilty enough to drive back and make sure he had not got run over, driving through the parking lot I never did see him and was quite pleased *not* to see him anywhere. Then....a loud thump on the passenger door, then another....he was trying to get my attention. Jeez crap, I opened the door and let him in......that was a mistake. He licked and cleaned my face the whole way home, in fact my wife met me at the door, she knew I could never go through with that plan. I left him home and went to work.

When I got home, Taz had been at the door all day waiting for me, he 'talked' and licked and cleaned and wagged his tail, Taz and I now where the best of friends. He would follow me out to the desert to rabbit hunt and look for stuff, he'd follow me to the shores of Utah Lake just to mess around and get wet. He loved it when I dried him with a towel, I think he planned it this way. Last year Old Tazzy had a couple strokes in our front room, it was time to go. He was about 14 years old...I loved Old Tazzy...


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## Artoxx (Nov 12, 2008)

It just isn't nice to make a 6'1", 250lb, hunter, outdoorsman, former bouncer, and ex-Navy man cry.


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## Loke (Sep 7, 2007)

Our barn cat had kittens, and Buck decided that he wanted one. These kittens were only 2 days old when Buck adopted one. He took it to his house and started to care for it. Now a 90 pound male dog is not equipped to care for a kitten. After a couple of hours of being licked by the dog, the kitten became hypothermic and died. Buck was heartbroken. If a dog could cry he was. He would not even look in the general direction of a kitten that was less than 3 months old for the rest of his life.


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## Lefty (Sep 20, 2008)

In 1992, at age 31, I decided i needed a dog to prepare me for marriage and fatherhood. Bought a Chesepeake in N. California. I didn't know a thing about Chesepeakes. Little did i know that this puppy, who i named Jake, was about to change my life. 

Jake was 90 Lb lean mean hunting machine. A great looking dog. He was chocolate, had short hair and was ripped. His nose was legendary. My first time bow hunting in 1993, I was sighting in my new bow in the woods. I missed the target. I searched where i saw the arrow hit the forest floor and could not find it. Jake, like Lassie, kept coming and nudging my leg - barking for me to follow him. He led me to to the arrow, the knock barely sticking out of the ground. It had richoched 20 or 30 yards from where it hit; no way i would have ever thought to look there. Even if i did it wasn't visible. My friend and I both knew that this was going to be a special dog. 

Together we learned to duck and pheasant hunt. He was a natural; i can't remember him not retrieving a wounded bird. 

One time we found a 15 year hiker that had fallen off a cliff. He was cold, injured and in obvious shock. I used my sweatshirt as a blanket to keep try to get the kid warm. Jake instinctively wrapped his body around the guys (more or less spooned him) to keep him warm until search and rescue showed up in a helicopter. He continually amazed me with his instincts. 

Jake would smile, growl and bark on command. If i would point at him and go "bang" he would "play dead", laying completely motionless (with his eyes open) until i told him to "get up". The only thing i could not teach him to do was roll over - he did not want to be on his back - I figured he was too macho. Strangers would stop and photograph him catching frisbee's because of his athletic leaping catches. 

One thing that was kind of good and kind of bad is that he loved to fight with other big male dogs, often taking on two at a time. Something about huskies he especaially hated. I never saw him lose a fight, which in a wierd way make me feel good. On the other hand i paid out quite a bit in vet bills and couldn't always predict when he would attack another dog. Maybe that drive is one reason he was such a great hunter.

Twice, when i wasn't home, he chased off guys trying to break into my house; once protecting my wife and the other time my mom. They were both impressed with his bravery.

If I was living in the woods and had to choose an animal as a companion Jake would be it. He tolerated other people, but he was clearly my dog. He was a world class hunter, protector and friend.

His hunted hard and well through his 12th year. He died at 15. My last lonely day was the day i bought him. He was my best buddy and constant companion for many years. He is buried in my backyard under some pine trees. His grave is marked and every once in a while i go sit by it and talk to him for a bit. 

If you want to see a picture a dog just like Jake google Dustin Retrievers and look at the Chesepeake stud named Joe. 

Soon after Jake died i bought another dog from Dustin. This time i let my wife and little boys pick him out. They picked out a cute yellow lab puppy (who is 2 years old now). Cody will never take Jake's place but he is also a fine hunter and companion who I have grown to truly love. Good hunting dogs are one of God's greatest gifts.


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## vdogs (Sep 22, 2007)

Awesome!!!


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## jtoby_3 (Nov 19, 2008)

This has to be my favorite thread i absolutly love reading your stories! thanks to aqll and keep em coming!


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