Soliloquy For a Bird Dog
Its not sad. Its one of my funniest stories about Molly.
Hi everyone! As many know we had to let Molly go chase birds with Seamus in paradise last week. This moment is the only awful thing about having gun dogs. You spend years training and hunting, taking into account the peculiarities of each animal. You learn their body language right down to a subtle twitch of a tail or set of their ears. We beam with pride at their first solid point and retrieve. They eat with us and watch TV in the evening. Each member of the pack understands what the others are saying or doing. It truly is a team effort, and after 15 years in Molly’s case, we have a hole in the team that can’t be filled, even by another dog (no, we aren’t thinking of a new dog…yet). Bella and Maggie were confused and looked for Molly for a couple days. Bella was definitely off a little more than Maggie probably because her and Molly had been together for several years but everyone has settled down now.
I thought I would reprint this story about Molly coming to live with us in her honor. It captures her personality perfectly and lots of folks haven’t read it.
About the time of his fourth birthday, we took Seamus, our first bird dog, back to the breeder to show him off on some Hungarian Partridge the man had on his place. It wasn’t hunting season. We were just letting Seamus have fun. Despite 20 mph winds he was perfection on four paws. He kept finding coveys to the great delight of the breeder and his wife.
“That Seamus just has style!” He said over and over. “You two have done an amazing job with him, especially for your first gun dog.”
We of course were both pretty pumped up with pride. As we sat in the kitchen later having coffee, the breeder leaned over to stroke the dog’s head.
“Seamus is what, coming four now? You probably are thinking of another dog, so you always have one coming up.”
Kerry and I looked at each other a tad confused. Another dog? We had not considered that at all. For God’s sake we had just managed to not ruin Seamus. Now you want us to have another one?
“Come on out to the kennel.” he said over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
We followed him along the well-worn path that led to the back of the barn. There we found in the shade of several huge willows five large chain link kennel enclosures full of excited, barking dogs of all ages.
He opened one door with young dogs and managed to grab a small female who was standing over the top of a kennel mate in a classic dominance pose. Her body was light red with buff-colored legs and belly.
“What do you think?” he said handing me the puppy.
“Think about what?”
“I know she is older than what you guys would like. She is 16 weeks. The previous guy brought her back. He said she was too much dog.”
I looked at Kerry. She shrugged, took the pup from me, and set her down on the ground. The puppy, using her nose, started investigating everything around us completely ignoring the chorus of protest coming from the kennels right next to her. Kerry turned and walked away, and the puppy immediately followed her down to the little creek that ran through the place and got a drink. Kerry started rubbing her hands all over the pup checking it out. She looked in her ears, then opened the dog’s mouth to get a look at her teeth. Then she rolled the puppy on its back and held it there. Not a murmur of protest. Then they continued their walk down the creek and out of sight around the barn.
Uh oh. The puppy was passing all the tests.
“She is yours if you want her, free of charge,” said the breeder. “She might be much harder to train starting at this late date and I don’t know what the previous guy did with her, but I have faith in you after watching Seamus today.”
Free? I was standing there looking with disbelief at our friend. This was an expensive high-end dog we were talking about. Besides, two bird dogs plus Boomer the border collie ? No. It was too much.
I started saying something along the lines of, “well, I appreciate your faith in us but…” and then the next thing I know we are heading home with two dogs.
On the trip home Seamus was fascinated with the new dog in the front seat with us but also a little concerned. He was the one who rode in between Kerry and I and now here was a usurper. He had had a long day, though, and half way home he drifted off to sleep. The puppy rode like a champ. Another test passed.
Boomer was disgusted with the new puppy when we arrived and sulked in a corner of the living room growling every time the puppy walked by. That was nothing new. He did the same thing with Seamus when he first arrived. They just need to learn where they all fit in the hierarchy of the O’Connell pack.
Kerry decided to give out chewy bones as treats to everyone. The older dogs got theirs and they went off to their usual spots to chew. The border collie out in the kitchen away from everyone and Seamus in his bed in the living room. Kerry set up a bed for the puppy across the room from Seamus’s and put her on it while simultaneously giving her a bone. We had decided to call her Molly in keeping with our tradition of giving Red Setters Irish names. Kerry told Molly what a good girl she was and then sat on the couch with a book to read but kept an eye on our new pack member at the same time. I turned on the television to watch a game.
I remember thinking that when I woke up that morning this was not how I thought my day would go.
I started daydreaming about a brace of Red Setters hunting through the Fall colored trees and bushes, their collar bells jingling then slamming into perfect stylish points and holding the birds with strength of will as we walked in, shotguns at the ready.
It was then I realized Molly had dropped her bone on her bed and had walked over to Seamus. He wagged his tail in greeting. Molly grabbed his bone that was still in his mouth, yanked it out and walked back to her bed. She dropped it on her bed then lay down with a look on her face that said,
“New sheriff in town. What ya going to do about it?”
I swear, time froze.
Seamus looked at us with extreme concern. This was not normal behavior in our pack.
Kerry put her book down and said, “Seamus. Go get your bone.”
“OK,” said the good dog. He walked over to get his bone laying there on the bed and the little 16-week-old puppy growled.
Seamus looked at Kerry. “She growled at me,” his soft brown eyes said.
“I don’t care!” Kerry said. “Fetch your bone right now!”
Seamus dutifully reached in to pick up his bone and Molly snapped at him.
Time thawed rather quickly at that moment.
Seamus ran to his bed to get away from the tiny snapping jaws of the velociraptor we had brought into our lives. Kerry came flying off the couch like an avenging angel. It was Wagnerian.
“No,” she yelled grabbing the puppy and rolling her on her back into a submissive pose. The puppy just laid there promising to be good. Kerry picked up Seamus’s bone and gave it to him. She then put Molly’s bone into her mouth.
“This is yours,” she growled at the red velociraptor.
Then she went back to the couch and sat down with her book. Seamus looked at me. I looked at him and we both then turned to look at Molly who was still on her back with the bone in her mouth.
“What do we do?” Seamus was asking.
“Just be a good boy,” I signaled back.
You may think this conversation is silly but if you have bird dogs you get pretty good at silent communication so you don’t spook the birds or at least that’s what I tell myself.
Molly rolled back on to her belly and slowly began to chew her bone, never taking her eyes off Kerry. This was not a typical, “I’m so sorry” look. This was a look of defiance.
“Kerry…” I started to say.
Without looking up from her book she said, “I see her. Stay out of this.”
Seamus was now looking back and forth between his mistress and the new dog. Then he locked eyes with me.
“Oh no,” he said.
“Oh yes,” I replied.
Molly casually dropped her bone, got to her feet, and stretched. Then made a bee line for Seamus’s bed where she pushed him right off onto the floor.
Several things happened at once. Seamus scrambled to his feet and ran for the kitchen. Boomer, who had apparently been watching all this from the kitchen ran for his kennel in the mudroom. I ran for the liquor cabinet. One way or another we were going to need a drink after this. Kerry bounced to her feet, grabbed the puppy by the scruff of the neck and plopped her on her own bed on her back. She placed her hand on the puppy’s neck, pinning her to the bed and snarled, “NO,” through bared teeth.
The older dogs and I watched with horrified fascination. This was Alpha Bitch time in the pack and it was something new. None of us had ever defied Kerry before. The puppy squirmed but Kerry was adamant and just held her down. I think she even growled several times at the little dog.
Eventually the puppy lay still and submitted. Kerry let go and roared, “Don’t. You. Move! “Then went back to the couch, sat down with her book and started to read again with not another word.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked.
“I do,” said Seamus.
“Me too,” said Boomer
“No. Not yet.” Murmured Kerry. “She isn’t done.”
I went back to the couch with my bourbon. The older dogs stayed in the kitchen. They knew this wasn’t over too.
Molly stayed on her back for what seemed like forever. She finally got on her belly but didn’t move. Then, almost imperceptibly, her right front paw started to inch towards the edge of her bed. Her head was down, chin resting on the flannel cover of her bed but her eyes were locked on Kerry. This was not a defiant look, however. This was more of a confused, this hasn’t happened to me before look.
Molly’s paw touched the tile floor.
A growl rumbled out of my sweet, animal-loving wife’s throat.
The paw withdrew back onto the bed. The puppy’s eyes closed, and she went to sleep.
“I’ll take that drink now,” Kerry said to me. “Too much dog the man said. No kidding! What a little wench. This will give her something to think about. When she wakes up I want to catch her being good and take them out for a walk in the pasture.”
I went and got her some Irish cream. Seamus, sensing the coast was clear, followed me to the couch where his avenging angel gave him a pat on the head and told him he was a good boy.
Our good boy went to his bed and curled up. He was still tired from his day, but he was staring at me, and I knew why.
“Go to sleep Seamus. We will watch her.”
His eyes closed and he started to snore.
Molly eventually became a hunting machine who worked beautifully with Seamus and then Bella. She liked to work close and always found the one or two birds who hung tight and didn’t fly with the covey. She also never missed a retrieve even in the nastiest, thorniest God awful cover. She would crawl on her belly under the thorns and come out bloody, but with the bird. We will all miss her.
Loved every word of this, John. Thank you for sharing!
Beautiful story.