Gone But Not Forgotten
Posted: Mon Oct 18, 2010 11:42 pm
I'm trying to figure out how to post pics to a thread, so if it doesn't work, I'll know I failed miserably. If it did work, then these are two of the best big blues I've owned. I've owned quite a few that I didn't mind feeding, and at least three that I was plumb proud to feed, but these two still rank at the top. The hound standing with me is Morgan's Cajun Blue Hooch and the female on the Tree is Morgan's Driftwood Blue Sally. Both came from my good friend Don Cummings of Emporia, KS. I didn't take many pics of either hound, so forgive the poor quality. I downloaded these from somewhere else. Neither hound was born here, but they both died here. They came from the dry ground of Kansas to the swamps of south Louisiana and both finished out into the kind of water dogs I'm proud to own.
I'll never forget the last time I saw old Hooch. He was well up in age and I knew his kidneys were failing him. He was in such poor shape and the vet said he was at the end of his road, so just make him comfortable. I went down to the pen one afternoon and that old hound looked at me and something inside me just kinda broke. I knew it was time. Without saying a word, I just opened the pen and let him out. He came up to me, nuzzled against my leg and trotted off toward the house. He laid around for a couple of days and every night I'd hear him open down on Big Creek. I'd sit on the porch and just listen to him run. On the third night, he could barely walk, but he came up to me anyway and kinda laid his head on my hand. I petted him up and kinda said my goodbyes. I could tell it was pretty close to the end. Later that evening, I could hear him working a cold track down on the creek. I listened for a while and then went inside. I came back out about midnight to see if I could hear him. I could hear him treed deep in Chesbrough Swamp. I listened for awhile and debated if I should get dressed and go in there to him. I had to work the next morning, so I went back to bed.
I never saw him again.
But sometimes when the wind is still and the air is just right, I swear I can hear a hound that sounds just like Hooch working a track deep in the swamp behind the house. I'd like to believe it's my old hound, but I know it's not possible.
How about others here post some pics of some of those good old hounds of yours from days gone by that you think deserve to be remembered.
I'll never forget the last time I saw old Hooch. He was well up in age and I knew his kidneys were failing him. He was in such poor shape and the vet said he was at the end of his road, so just make him comfortable. I went down to the pen one afternoon and that old hound looked at me and something inside me just kinda broke. I knew it was time. Without saying a word, I just opened the pen and let him out. He came up to me, nuzzled against my leg and trotted off toward the house. He laid around for a couple of days and every night I'd hear him open down on Big Creek. I'd sit on the porch and just listen to him run. On the third night, he could barely walk, but he came up to me anyway and kinda laid his head on my hand. I petted him up and kinda said my goodbyes. I could tell it was pretty close to the end. Later that evening, I could hear him working a cold track down on the creek. I listened for a while and then went inside. I came back out about midnight to see if I could hear him. I could hear him treed deep in Chesbrough Swamp. I listened for awhile and debated if I should get dressed and go in there to him. I had to work the next morning, so I went back to bed.
I never saw him again.
But sometimes when the wind is still and the air is just right, I swear I can hear a hound that sounds just like Hooch working a track deep in the swamp behind the house. I'd like to believe it's my old hound, but I know it's not possible.
How about others here post some pics of some of those good old hounds of yours from days gone by that you think deserve to be remembered.