Originally Posted by Phillip Carr (Post 379261)

Had to let Missy go on 1/2/23. She has been a part of our lives for the last 14 years. One heck of a fine dog, that I was blessed to have shared many days afield with and took hundreds of wild birds with her.
I was lucky to have taken her out a couple of weeks ago and she found a large covey within 100 yards of the truck. Her tail did not stand as erect as it once did but she stood steady to the shot despite her shaking on weak legs.
I went out today with Ollie and Scout and shot a few birds in her memory.
I will pick her ashes up next week and will put her with my other dogs that went before her. A place were two creeks come together a place I try to hunt every new dog in order to honor the dogs that rest there.
I want to share a few pictures.
The first is a wreath of birds on a barrel cactus I took today in honor of Missy. The rest are just random pictures from over the years.
Missy had the intelligence to know where to find birds. She could read the hillsides.
Two short stories. Several years ago Chris Dawe and I hunted with Missy and her sister Bell. Both dogs were several hundred yards apart when they both stuck coveys. Chris asked which dog should we go to? I said well lets go to both. We went to Bell where she had a covey, we took a couple of birds then I checked my handheld to make sure Missy was still on point, she was. We proceeded to go to her. A lot of time had passed as we made our way toward Missy.
We found her still on point and holding the birds. Another flush and Chris and I both took a bird. We sent Missy to retrieve the birds. I didn't actually know where Chris’s bird fell, but Missy did. She picked up my bird took it to where Chris’s bird hit. Dropped my bird by the other and scooped them up for a double retrieve.
I didn't teach her she just did it.
One last story. A year after Missy tore her CCL’s and I was told her hunting days were over but she beat all odds.
I debated about doing surgery hearing good and bad things about doing it.
I decided to rest her for a year and give her supplement.
I guess Missy felt she needed to make up for a missed season.
The next season she was on fire, always ran different but you could not slower down.
The last day of the season a friend and I decided to hunt together. By 2:00 PM we had 5 birds. I hadn't ran Missy and wanted to run her for an hour since it would be her last chance of the season.
In the next two hours she put on a show. We both completed our limits ( 8 birds each ) and had to make her follow us back to the truck as she wanted to keep going. We had actually started headed back to the truck and was not paying attention. When my hand held receiver buzzed me. I looked down and said dang Missy is 300 yards behind us…..and on point. Dave and I looked at each other as we were beat.
I said maybe she is jut tired and has stopped. I blew on the whistle several times but she would not move. The worst part was we never hunted the ravine she was in as it looked too ugly to hold birds.
When Missy didn't respond to the whistle we knew she had birds. But wondered if it was worth it.
When we crested a hill we could see her about 150 yards away, like a marble statue. What followed was incredible. She found 5 separate coveys over the next hour.

IN HONOR OF MISSY

The perfection of a life with a gun dog, like the perfection
of an autumn, is disturbing because you know, even as it
begins, that it must end. Time bestows the gift and steals it
in the process.
George Bird Evans, An Affair with Grouse, 1982