Larry J
Active member
A week ago I had to put my hunting partner and best friend down. He’d lost control of his back legs and bowel, and he couldn’t empty his bladder. It was extremely difficult to see him that way and more difficult to make the decision, but I know I made the right one for him. I’d like to take a few minutes to pay tribute and thank him for the years we had together.
Hoss, thank you for being a great first hunting dog. I couldn’t have asked for a better one.
Thanks for putting up with me while I learned how to train you for hunting and hunt tests. Thanks for not heeling so that I could take a lesson from Jack Jagoda and learn how to properly use an e-collar.
Thank you for trying to pick up our first goose during your first hunt at MCB Quantico even though it was slapping you in the head with its’ enormous wing. Thanks for staying with it and barking until I could find you in the marsh. Thanks for loving goose hunting ever since.
Thanks for retrieving our first pheasant during the North Dakota hunt. Thanks for finding, pouncing on and delivering straight to me without hesitation, the dead pheasant that someone left behind or couldn’t find. And thanks for finding the dead duck at McKee-Besher’s that someone left behind or simply couldn’t find.
Thanks for whining and carrying on like a real ass when the birds fell at the first hunt test of the spring one year down in Carolina so I could pull you from the test before making a retrieve. I didn’t want to run that test anyway and it allowed me to focus more on your training than on work.
Thanks for teaching me a lesson about no training on the morning of a hunt test by cutting the legs right out from under me as you returned from a practice retrieve. I should have known better.
And especially thank you for being a real professional and not fighting with the honor dog that attacked you and stole the bird from your mouth as you returned from a retrieve at a hunt test in PA. Thanks for spinning right around between me and the judges when I instructed you to “gitcher markâ€, lining yourself up on the second bird and dropping your head so that I was certain you where locked on the second, letting me know that I could send you remotely. You knew.
Thanks for making me feel like a real retriever trainer by earning your JH and SH titles, and passing one MH test, as well as earning your HRCH and UH titles. And thanks for taking first place in the local NAGDA amateur pointing and third place in the amateur flushing events one fall.
Thanks for always having the desire to go duck hunting with me even though I failed to get you a bird on the previous hunt, and the one before that, and the one before that and probably the one before that.
Thanks for eating the donuts from that guys layout blind while they were away for lunch so that he could blame it on his buddy. That was a good one.
Thanks for eating Hugh’s special sub while we were busy picking up the dekes. That
was a good one too. I think Hugh sees the humor in it by now.
Thanks for retrieving our first bird band on the goose that I shot, just after Lawrence missed. And thanks for swimming straight up the creek rather than running the bank.
Thanks for ripping up my old text books from college when you got board one day while I was at work.
Thanks for letting me share my Vienna sausage and crackers with you while I watched TV.
Thanks for taking me on all the hikes along the creek in our neighborhood. And thanks for deciding to take a walk along the power line during your last days. We hadn’t done that one in a few years.
Goodnight buddy. You did good.
Hoss
March 16, 2001 - August 22, 2013
Hoss, thank you for being a great first hunting dog. I couldn’t have asked for a better one.
Thanks for putting up with me while I learned how to train you for hunting and hunt tests. Thanks for not heeling so that I could take a lesson from Jack Jagoda and learn how to properly use an e-collar.
Thank you for trying to pick up our first goose during your first hunt at MCB Quantico even though it was slapping you in the head with its’ enormous wing. Thanks for staying with it and barking until I could find you in the marsh. Thanks for loving goose hunting ever since.
Thanks for retrieving our first pheasant during the North Dakota hunt. Thanks for finding, pouncing on and delivering straight to me without hesitation, the dead pheasant that someone left behind or couldn’t find. And thanks for finding the dead duck at McKee-Besher’s that someone left behind or simply couldn’t find.
Thanks for whining and carrying on like a real ass when the birds fell at the first hunt test of the spring one year down in Carolina so I could pull you from the test before making a retrieve. I didn’t want to run that test anyway and it allowed me to focus more on your training than on work.
Thanks for teaching me a lesson about no training on the morning of a hunt test by cutting the legs right out from under me as you returned from a practice retrieve. I should have known better.
And especially thank you for being a real professional and not fighting with the honor dog that attacked you and stole the bird from your mouth as you returned from a retrieve at a hunt test in PA. Thanks for spinning right around between me and the judges when I instructed you to “gitcher markâ€, lining yourself up on the second bird and dropping your head so that I was certain you where locked on the second, letting me know that I could send you remotely. You knew.
Thanks for making me feel like a real retriever trainer by earning your JH and SH titles, and passing one MH test, as well as earning your HRCH and UH titles. And thanks for taking first place in the local NAGDA amateur pointing and third place in the amateur flushing events one fall.
Thanks for always having the desire to go duck hunting with me even though I failed to get you a bird on the previous hunt, and the one before that, and the one before that and probably the one before that.
Thanks for eating the donuts from that guys layout blind while they were away for lunch so that he could blame it on his buddy. That was a good one.
Thanks for eating Hugh’s special sub while we were busy picking up the dekes. That
was a good one too. I think Hugh sees the humor in it by now.
Thanks for retrieving our first bird band on the goose that I shot, just after Lawrence missed. And thanks for swimming straight up the creek rather than running the bank.
Thanks for ripping up my old text books from college when you got board one day while I was at work.
Thanks for letting me share my Vienna sausage and crackers with you while I watched TV.
Thanks for taking me on all the hikes along the creek in our neighborhood. And thanks for deciding to take a walk along the power line during your last days. We hadn’t done that one in a few years.
Goodnight buddy. You did good.
Hoss
March 16, 2001 - August 22, 2013
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