Dad grabbed my upper arm and squeezed, then gestured to the back. He wanted Gunner up front by him. The dog sat on the floor between his withered legs and melted into Dad’s lap.
One more chance for the old man to see a young dog tearing up the cover, doing the very thing it was born and bred to do. I couldn’t deny him that opportunity after all he’d given me. The ticket would be worth it.
The only thing better than cherishing the memory of a great dog’s lifetime of hunting, is the memory of two great dogs shared by father and son. A three-part story of passing the torch and sharing its light.
There’s a warm feeling in the hunter’s soul with every little triumph in training, with each great retrieve, even with the smell of wet dog lingering in the truck.
Every fortunate bird or waterfowl hunter should be blessed to enjoy the companionship and performance of at least one truly great hunting dog in his or her lifetime. This is Sadie’s story …