Miles Davis Coleman is 13+ years old (97 dog years). Didn't retrieve a single bird today, and we shot four geese. He is blind, deaf, epileptic, incontinent, has bad hips, and was generally a giant pain in my ass today, but he didn't squeak at all. This was his last foreseeable hunt, and I cannot even begin to express the appreciation that I have for my dog, my hunting buddy that has never flaked out, and the first thing in my life that I ever gave a shit about. It was warm (30 degrees) this morning and the little bastard wouldn't take no for an answer. He saw the camo pack, a set of boots, and a shotgun leaning aganst the wall. Somehow he remembered what this all meant. I first took him hunting at 8 weeks when all he did was sleep on my coat, and today at 13+ years he wanted to go hunting. He banged his tail against the wall in the room where I was sleeping. He banged his tail against the bathroom door, while I was getting rid of the toxins at 5 AM. I couldn't say no, so I filled my pocket with dog biscuits and loaded my gun, my pack, and my hunting partner for the last thirteen years in Ryan's truck.
Miles has recently lost all sight in his left eye. He is also deaf. We get out to the field and he is either tracking rabbits or mousing, but I have to run him down so he doesn't lose his way. We set up the 6+ dozen decoys, and the coffin blinds with time to spare. He can't see the decoys, so he trips over them knocking the heads off a few. I get Miles on my coat liner with a strip of burlap over his shaking grumpussing body and he is ready to go. Come shooting hours we have a single show up, a little flagging, a few clucks out of my call and it locks up with legs down. Comes in right between the two of us and we unload two guns on it loaded with 3.5 inch mags($6)...and it flies away with Miles on the chase, a little steel in the gooses ass.
We probably saw 1000 geese today. Most of which flared right before they got in range. We might have spooked some with the blinds and some got spooked by a 97 year old dog who was happy as can be...licking my face and wagging his tale as I was cranking out clucks and a few other noises. At one point I was all covered up and I look over and he is standing straight up in the middle of the decoys with his tail wagging watching 30+ geese come on in out of the one eye that he can still see out of. I couldn't get really mad at him since this was his retirement party. He was enjoying the show...
All I can say is that in the near future Miles is going to move on to better hunting grounds and I'm going to miss him when he is gone.
7 comments:
Very touching story. Want me to build a coffin with my new nail gun? I can make a nice one. I have one standing by for Bear.
I appreciate the offer, but my plan is to have hime cremated and throw his ashes in the Missouri.
I think you should put an urn of his ashes right by the front door. Every time you walk in the house, take a pinch and scatter them around. Some on the floor to be tracked across the carpet, some in the bed to rub you while you sleep, some in the kitchen making a mess near the garbage, some near the annoying squeak in the floorboards.....it'll be like he never left.
What about a Miles rug, by the front door?
Take him to the taxiderist. Full size mount on the front porch. I'm glad he had one last hunt, you both deserved it.
It only gets worse. Took him to the vet today to get his un-blind eye checked out..and they tell me he has bad glaucoma in the blind eye and they have to cut it out to relieve the pressure.
Now he will be a deaf, one-eyed, epileptic, incontinent, lab that's too old to hunt, and his hips are starting to go, and runs into things on his left side when he turns to quickly. Besides for that, the vet said he was doing great.
I wanted to have him cloned, but Ed is firmly against it. What good is science if it is squandered on sheep when we could all relive Miles through Miles II?
He is doing very well post eye surgery. He f-ing hates the cone that he has to wear and is pretty mad about the fact that he can't go in and out of the dog door as he pleases, but the loss of his eye seems to be a relief. I am pretty sure that Selma would poke her own eye out to get 1/2 of the attention Miles has been getting post surgery.
On Friday he gets the stitches out and the cone removed.
Don't even speculate on how much eyeball removal costs. More than a drysuit. That is all I am going to say.
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