Three Collars

[Craig Larter]

Rich great post. Your post brings many tears to my eyes. You are not alone my friend---the pain of loss and smiles of good days afield are permanently etched in our minds
I have lived long enough to share my outdoor life with four black labs and one golden. All the collars also hang in my gun room. My first dog after marriage was a golden retriever Maggie, she was a bit curly with a beautiful golden color and a heart as big as a mountain. I lived in southern New Jersey and hunted out of a sneak box and coffin box in Cape May County, It was early in my career running a plastic factory in Camden so I had little time for training but she was natural and retrieved a bunch of black ducks on the sedge islands around Cape May. She died at 8 of cancer and I still tear up when I remember my golden girl and the good times at the Jersey shore.
My next dog was a black lab Rena. By this time I had moved to western NY but I was even more occupied by a career and young family. She was another natural, a great natural marker but I never had the time to teach her to handle. She died at 13 with a bumper in her mouth and a wagging tail, she had lost control of her legs and I had to say good bye-----hard to do when they look at you with those big brown eyes that say I love you man. I cried for days and I still do as I type this post.
My next black lab was Tess, Vanderbilt’s Hy Test. She was my once in a life time dog. She came out of Mary Howley’s Candlewood Kennel in Madison WI. Her grandmother was a 4 time national field trial champion, I trained her myself and she was an AKC Master Hunter before 2 years old and qualitied for the National Master. We travelled all over the east coast hunt testing and went to North Dakota 7 years in a row to hunt. She retrieved hundreds of ducks and wild pheasants. She lived a good long life, her last hunt was at 13. I had to call her off a cripple because she would have killed herself retrieving that duck. She was so tired after making 12 retrieves I had to lift her back into my Jon boat----she was the happiest dog alive. I had to put down due to cancer in the eyes, she couldn’t negotiate the stairs-----one of the worst days of my life.
Next black lab was DeeDee my big clown. She was the happiest dog I have ever seen, life was a big bowl of cherries. She made me smile every day, just all go. She would jump in my duck boat in the dark and bark until the motor started, she would stop barking as soon as she knew we were on our way to the blind. She was also an AKC Master Hunter that I trained and campaigned all over the east coast and hunted out west 5 years. She was my most difficult loss. At 7 years old she started to pant on our morning walk. I took her to the vet and they found a large cancer mass in her chest----she was gone before dark.
Great hunting dogs are one of life’s great gifts from God. As Gene Hill said “when I die I want to go to the same place as my hunting dogs”. Craig

[Bill Murphy]

Thanks, Rich. My Wirehair Eva is still with us. A bird finding machine. I will tell my bird dog stories some day. However, they go back to 1948, so it will be a while.

[C.O.B.]

I wouldn't hunt birds without a dog they just add so much to the experience before, during and after the hunt.

Daisy is now 10 and my wife is adamant about no more dogs until her collar hangs with the others. When the right one comes along it will be a matter of asking for forgiveness rather than permission.

I've told her that if I go first I want to be cremated and placed between Ilsa and Gunner.