# Where the cottonwood grows



## Bax* (Dec 14, 2008)

Pardon my feelings of nostalgia. Sometimes I think that in order to understand where we are going, we must first understand where we have been.

Few things in a boy's life are as important as a dog. Dogs are the most loyal friends a boy could ever have. Sure, as adults we can pretend to understand this idea but through a boy's eyes there are few things greater than the love and bond that a boy and his dog can form together.

My dog Annie was the greatest dog that my small world had ever known. She was one of those dogs that hunting came to naturally. She just knew what to do and how to do it well. When she wasnt moonlighting as a hunting dog, she was my constant shadow. She was always there to keep me out of trouble, to comfort me when times were rough, and she was there to be my loyal side kick on adventures. She had an uncanny ability to know when the refrigerator was open. Even from a dead sleep, she would wake and be by my side the second I opened the fridge hoping for a treat.

A story that circulates through my family almost like clockwork is when pheasant season rolled around and the whole family went to the family farm to hunt the cut down corn rows. My dad had to work that day, so he planned on heading up in the evening. When he arrived, my great uncle and uncles were just finishing up hunting. They told my dad that there werent any pheasants and they hadnt gotten a shot off all day. As they griped about the poor hunting conditions, Annie walked up to my dad with a live pheasant in her mouth. Awestruck, everyone talked about how they hadnt seen a bird all day, and now the first bird was taken without a shot. While talking about the craziness of the situation, low and behold, Annie walked up with a second pheasant in her mouth! My dad just smiled and loaded Annie up in the truck and took his roosters home without firing a shot that day.

Annie was no common hunting dog, she was an equal, maybe even a superior. We would ride down dirt roads in my dad's beat up old Ford listening to classic rock with Annie sitting between the two of us on the bench seat while we sang along with the radio. At times she would become excited and begin to yip and whimper because she knew where we were and that it was time to hunt. If we werent careful and let her out before we had our guns loaded up, she would kick up a bird right next to the truck.

Growing up, my dad ran a trap line at Bateman Dairy in Murray off the Jordan River. The dairy owner (Dean) made a deal with my dad that if he caught as many raccoons, skunk, fox, muskrat, and mink as possible, that we would have free run of the dairy and could do as we pleased there. Annie was always there to help out. At times she was too helpful others she was busy sniffing around while we dealt with a raccoon in a box trap. But she never wanted anything to do with muskrats. One day my dad gave me my first pellet gun and took me to the dairy to test it out. As we walked along the canal banks, I saw a muskrat swimming along the shoreline. I pulled up and shot the muskrat and he floated away down the canal. I was upset. I knew that wasting animals was a cardinal sin in our home and I didnt know how to get this floating carcass out of the center of the canal. I swear that Annie knew what this muskrat meant to me, because all I had to do was ask her to get my muskrat and she jumped in and brought that old muskrat right back to me. I am pretty sure she gagged a little afterwards, but she was so happy to do what I needed at the moment. For those of you who have dogs, you understand the beauty of a retrieve. That was quite possibly the most beautiful retrieve I have ever experienced in my lifetime.

As I got older, so did Annie and although I had many adventures ahead, her's were drawing to a close. She finally reached the point where she needed to chase that great rooster in the sky and was laid to rest under a cottonwood tree. At the time the cottonwood tree didnt seem too large, but now I see it on occasion and it has doubled in size. Sometimes I smile to myself and know that Annie is what makes that tree grow.

Man I loved that dog. Still miss her to this day.

Below is a picture of baby Bax* sitting on top of Annie. I still remember riding her like a pony around the yard while we chased indians.


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## CPAjeff (Dec 20, 2014)

Awesome write up!


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## taxidermist (Sep 11, 2007)

Thanks Bax for sharing a wonderful memory!! 

I too had a lab as a young Boy, and reading your story was as if I was writing my memories of my dog "Bo". 

Your story gave me a smile, and a tear. Thank you for the great story !!


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## Dunkem (May 8, 2012)

Nice memories Bax*!!!


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## BPturkeys (Sep 13, 2007)

Nice write up Bax, enjoyed.


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## wyogoob (Sep 7, 2007)

That's a great story!

.


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## LostLouisianian (Oct 11, 2010)

It's not polite to make grown men cry like this...sniffles. Thanks Bax, great write up.


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## 3arabians (Dec 9, 2014)

Great story!!! Tear jerker but great still. 

As a side note, I had no idea bax has johnnycake like writing skillz.

Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-G891A using Tapatalk


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## .45 (Sep 21, 2007)

Bax* you should become a writer! Fascinating stories you have to tell, and the way you tell them, very cool. Let me know when your first book is ready! o-||


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## sawsman (Sep 13, 2007)

Did you eat the muskrat? ;-)

Good read again Bax*.


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## swbuckmaster (Sep 14, 2007)

Loved it

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## stillhunterman (Feb 15, 2009)

Great story Bax, eloquently written, thank you!


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## AF CYN (Mar 19, 2009)

Awesome write up. Thanks for sharing your experience with us.


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## Longgun (Sep 7, 2007)

Very cool, thanks for sharing such a great memory.


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