Wednesday Writings: Notes on a Dog's Life

Prompt #2.  List the names of five dogs from your lifetime.

Write about why one sparks a stronger memory to you than the others.

My dad hunted lions (the Rocky Mountain variety). This meant that we had a lot of dogs, hound dogs. At one time my dad had a pack of 17 hounds. By the time I was old enough to remember dad had stopped hunting but still had three of his favorite hounds, Judy, Betsy and Red.

Judy and Red were red-bone hounds and Betsy was a blue tick. Judy and Betsy supplied us with a batch of puppies a couple of times a year that my siblings and I adored. We loved and spoiled and played with them until they were about 8 weeks old and then my dad would sell them or give them away. Red was one of Judy's pups that dad hung on to.

Red was a superb hunting hound, a loyal friend and had tons of personality. Dad loved to retell the story of the night Red saved his life. They had been out hunting; it snowed and made it impossible to get off the mountain. So Dad found a ledge with cover, built a fire and settled in for the night. They had been tracking a large lion for most of the day and that big old tom cat doubled back and caught Dad and his dogs on that ledge. Red fought like a lion himself and soon the cat limped away. Dad and Red caught up with him the next day.

Another story that Dad and Mom liked to tell about Red was the day he ate a bushel of pears. His belly was so big and hung so low to the ground that he could hardly walk.

Red--the day he ate the pears

The thing I liked best about Red was that to me he seemed to be less a dog and more a person. Red dogged our footsteps. Everywhere we went, he went. When we rode our bikes he loped along at our side big ears flapping up and down with each bound. He loved joining us in a swim in the canal at the top of the lane. He joined in our horse races as we galloped across the field. He was one of us. On warm summer days Red would stretch out on the lawn and we would lay our heads on his belly, using it for a pillow. The most unusual thing about Red was that he would smile when he was happy and he laughed—out loud. As children we would take feathers or grass and tickle Red until he guffawed. It was hilarious and one of the things I remember most fondly about him.

My dad retired from hunting, but Red never stopped. Every few weeks or so Red would disappear; we knew where he was--hunting. Sometimes he’d bring home a bit of his quarry, and sometimes he came home with a snoutful of porcupine quills. He didn’t enjoy it when dad got the pliers out and pulled those barbs from his tender skin. But it didn’t deter Red. In a few weeks he’d head out again, out on the hunt.

I remember painfully the day I got off the bus and there was no Red to greet me. My dad had sold him to a man who trained hounds to hunt. Years later I asked Dad why he had sold Red instead of keeping him until he died. Dad simply said he wanted Red to be happy doing what he loved best—hunting.

me at the age of 4 in front of our house with Red

Let’s see the prompt said to list 5 dogs you remember. Since I’ve already mentioned three in this story, here are two more dogs that meant a lot to me in my life.

me at age 14 with my dog "Pottyetta" given to me by my boyfriend for Valentines--he named the dog!
My mom hated the name. She was absolutely mortified everytime I stepped outside and called for her.
I adored the dog, she was so loveable and cute.
(gotta love those boots--they were my dads *hehe*)

Trapper Dog--the dog I raised from a pup between child #4 and #5.  I claim he was as much work as a child.  He died when he was 17, I was very sad.

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