Faith through a Faithful Friend

My first dog Mckinnley, was incredible. I remember the day I picked her out. I was told the best way to pick a dog is to have it pick you. You want your dog on exactly the 49th day of it's life. Also, you get a lab in the spring, so they can hunt the first season of their life. Mckinnley was born in Feb and I brought her home in April. You put all the puppies in an open area and then call to them. The ones that come to you are going to be curious and they are going to like humans. Then what you do next is to stand up and slowly move away from those coming to you, Mckinnley was the one that gave up last.

           I had planned for Mckinnley for more than five years, I dug a dog bowl out of the box it was in. Found the collars I had bought years back, and had already read 2 books on dogs by Richard Walters. I don't think I had ever been so patient and thorough about anything in my life before.I brought her home and began to introduce her to her purpose in life. She was my dog and I was her Master. She was going to be my companion and skilled at what she was bred to do; hunt. I had a training regimen written out for the next 16 weeks. She learned to swim at 11 weeks and spent every Saturday at the gun range standing beside shotgun blasts. At 13 weeks I lifted her up off the deck of the sporting clay stands and carried her as she slept back to the truck. I would not have to worry about her being gun shy. 　

            With the help of my Dog Mentor Ramu, Mckinnley learned to retrieve and swim in cold water at 11 weeks. It could have been earlier but the water needed to warm up a little. She made trips to the park and I planned many opportunities to be around dogs and people. I exposed her to tall grass, hot cold, jumping from high objects, steps/stairs, car rides, anything I could to be sure that she would not encounter an unfamiliar situation. Through this she learned to be master of her environment and for everything else I was there to help. Potty training was a breeze thanks to Ramu. I taught her how to load and unload from a truck. I taught her to "shake" the water off of her body only after I had pulled the dummy from her mouth and moved away. I taught her some parlor tricks too. The funniest thing was getting her to give me her paw. I would stick out my hand and say "shake," she would move away from me and wiggle her body. I was pretty puzzled, It took at least 3 attempts before this went off like a grenade in my head. So she learned to give me 5 instead. Smart Dog!!

                    December of that year, I took her to Mississippi, her first hunting trip. I had to wait for the right hunt to be able to bring her. In the arena of premium duck hunting, everyone has a gundog, and sometimes 2 or 3. They are well trained and many are seasoned hunters. You can't just bring your dog/ puppy, home-trained and inexperienced out there to hunt when dogs that cost $1,000 at birth and another $3,000 to train are on deck and haven't seen a blind in a week or two. Hunter's are filled with remorse as they pick one and leave many behind. The one's not chosen are sure to rub it in, by howling, jumping, whining, and pawing. Thier eyes speak to you of their pain and dejection so you can't look long. There is no question about it, the dog knows where you are going, what you are going to be doing, and that you are not taking them. Every hunter knows that bitterness, and moves with haste to the truck to escape the shame. 　

              When our time came, Mckinnley was a bundle of energy, she rode in the back of my truck pacing and full of life for the hunt. She broke ice and swam in the frigid waters of flooded milo fields. She hopped into the wooden blinds, and whined and whimpered which was annoying. Sitting still was going to be a problem for her, but as we know, the servant cannot be greater than the Master. Many folks prefer duck hunting, you work hard to hone skills on your calls but are always thankful when there is someone there who knows what they are doing. It's a social event, a brag board, a history lesson, a gossip column, and an obituary until you hear or see ducks on the horizon. Then it's quiet, still and intense until you hear, "take em." 　The water and decoys spread before the blind for 60 yards, my duck went down well past the edge of the dried Milo thicket. I sent Mckinnley and she crashed through the water, to a smooth swim, to a walk and then a fury of spraying water at the edge of the Milo. I had trouble getting her to "hold" to my whistle or my verbal commands. Someone said, "go out in the water and get her attention!", so I did. I blew the whistle signaling her to stop and sit, facing me, lifted my hands and brought them to my chest to ready her for the command. I threw my right hand straight up and shot one quick "bleep" simultaneously with my whistle. Her head swung to her left and she disappeared to the left, back and straight into the milo. I was nervous cause I knew we had an audience. I was sure I had over promised her abilities to my Uncle, but at the same time I really believed in her. What felt like 5 minutes was actually 10 seconds, Mckinnley appeared through the reeds and thick of the milo, feet muddy, hair wet with a drake mallard duck in her mouth. I don't have to tell you what that looks like, it's one of the most popular hunting scenarios possible. A black lab with a green head, drake on the retrieve.

          　There is something within a man's soul that when stirred creates a very unique tingle that is almost indescribable. I can say it is an elation without excitement, it is a cry without pain or tears, it is a recognition deep within; that you have communed with nature and a force beyond imagination, vision or any of our senses. There is no higher ground that I know of. I experienced that for the first time in that moment. I would not experience that again until my daughter was born. Mckinnley brought that duck to me, and I brought it to my Uncle. He smiled, nodded in approval and disbelief, then plucked a curly dark feather from the tail of that duck and gave it to me and told me it was good luck. I carried that tail feather for more than five years I knew it's sight well. When the crown of my daughter's head was finally visible, the dark hair that protruded slightly resembled that feather as if they were one and the same. That tingle at that moment moved me to a cry for just an instant producing one or two tears, a desperate need for air, and some guttural noise from deep within. I am very humbled at the fact that only now as I write this do I make the connection between the tail feather and Kayleigh's head. Both of those memories were etched into my soul, sat dormant, and only now do I see.

　 I ran Mckinnley over with my truck 2 months later. I was running late for work and when I popped my head out to call her I noticed many deer were in the neighbor's yard. I understood this scenario by now, it wasn't new. If the deer were up here, Mckinnley was down in the woods. I drove to where I thought she would be able to hear me and called for her. I grew inpatient, got in the truck and headed back home and then sighed relief when I saw her in my rearview. There is a steep hill just before the apartment where I lived, as the grade steepened I lost sight of the road in front, slowed for the blind climb and things went wrong. I hauled her off to Uwharrie forest hiked her to a ridge I used to hunt, burried her, and surrounded her with white quartz and fashioned an M on the top of the returned earth. I wept bitterly, but the physical exertion from digging hard, cold ground and hiking while carrying my friend did me good.

      Friends and family pitched in and I had Buckley within a month. I began the task of training him. I should have waited for a long time to buy another dog. Buckley was more cure for my ailment than anyone can ever imagine. But, I never approached him with quite the attention, detail or enthusiasm that I had with Mckinnley. Buckley was bread for his looks and Mckinley for brains.  Even as a puppy his personality and attitude toward training was obvious.  Before Buckley was 2 years old I found him a new home where he would be welcome throughout the house, have a fellow companion at all times, get fat and live happy. That dog loved to eat. Then I went home to my bride and prepared for the arrival of our daughter.

       I'm a Dad now, and I have 2 children. I haven't trained them to hunt or fetch, though Kayleigh does try. Our dog Shelby joined us close to Hudson's 2nd birthday and the children are as jealous of her at times as she is of them. She's a German short-hair pointer. I'll savor the sight and majesty of a black-lab afield forever but the first 2 are all I'll ever own. I hope I honor them in that way. I can't tell you how or when Mckinnley's memory lost it's edge and brought more joy than pain, but that's the case. 　

          Once more in life, and this is cheesy, I am reminded of the "Miyagi Principle." I'm not sure how much I liked the movie "The Karate Kid" but there is a golden goose found in the relationship between Daniel Son and his Martial Arts mentor. Only after persevering and completing, weeks or maybe months of what seem like arduous and unrelated tasks to his goals and heart's desires, does Daniel realize that Miyagi has conditioned his muscles and his nervous system for effective and powerful execution of his martial arts style. In an instant, when realizing what he was capable of, Daniel Loved his Mentor whom he had grown to hate and was grateful for every minute he spent working for Miyagi. I won't say I'm a great dad, I'm not, but what I can tell you and this is good advice, training and owning 2 dogs prior to parenthood should be a requirement and condition for parent licensing. I'm kidding, but not really.

　         I began to make a list of hardships, but it's pointless, the coals of the fires that God uses to refine us and purify us to his son's image can't be counted. Whichever one you may be facing now or in the future, know this... God's presence is unlimited by time or space, God is sovereign, he is in control, he is all powerful, all knowing, all good and all things work for the good of those who are called to his purpose. In my walk to learn about God I have had to learn to say, "Its' not about me," and to keep focused. What I've learned about God is this... to trust him. As much as I'm saying it's not about me, he's up there saying it's all about me. He loves us that much!