Gone to the Dogs.....

[LadyFisher]

We watched the Westminster Dog Show again,
always a joy to see such wonderfully bred and groomed dogs. We lost our last little guy before Christmas, and we're not ready yet for another.

I had so many thoughts of my/our dogs over the years, and they are wonderful memories.

How about you all contributing your favorite personal dog story? Any fishing dogs? (That makes it legal)

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LadyFisher, Publisher of
FAOL

[Pisces by Birth]

LF and JC, I must say that I appreciate your board. My best story is a dog I had in college named Juanita. She swam across the river while I was setting the hook. The humpy ended up in her leg... barbless, but deep. I cut the line off at the eye. About six hours after the infraction, I told her to trust me, she laid on her side. I pulled the hook out and she never moved. She died about 5 years ago, in my arms as she was anesthetized, the greatest dog anyone has ever known. She trusted me, loved to swim, loved to go fishing, and the reason for putting her to sleep?
I told my wife, "If she ever cannot get up the steps comfortably and sleep in our room, then it is time." It was time and I still look back on her as the "perfect dog."

[ELKHUNTER]

He was a Golden Retriever and his name was Magnum. I will never forget the mornings when I would leave to go to work and he would be looking at me from his kennel. I would start my truck up and he would let out the most pitiful howl you have ever heard. He acted like I was never coming back for him. Then when I would come home in the evening he would whine with excitement. I could throw a painted rock into six feet of water and he would swim to the bottom to get it. He was the only dog I have ever owned that could swim like that. He passed quietly in his sleep a few years back. A piece of me went with him.

Rocky

[Jed]

I have many good dog stories, having had some good dogs. One of my favorites had to do with my dog "Plugs". He was a collie mutt. Did everything with me and enver had a leash. I lived in the cuontry with him and then in NYC. One day, when walking down the streets of mid-town Manhattan we came across another dog. This dog looked at my dog and started lunging at him, wanting to "mix it up". My dog, unleashed calmly stood about 6 inches away from this dog's maximum reach, cocked his head and just looked. The owner of the other dog started to yell at me to control my dog. All I could do was laugh.

He was a country dog, a city dog and a good friend.

jed

[dudley]

Flash the Wonderdog was a good friend that passed on about 15 years ago. He was a fine fishing partner.
When my son was a baby, I would set up his portable crib streamside and Flashie would babysit while I fished.
Later when Flash was older he would snooze stream side while I made my way up and down the river fishing. I had no trouble finding him when I was done,he was sleeping under the circling vultures
I had to stop taking him with me when his eyesight started to go. One day when some canoes went by, he followed them down stream thinking they were me. He didn't come back for hours.

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I never lost a little fish
yes, I'm free to say
It always was the biggest fish
I caught that got away
...Eugene Field




[This message has been edited by dudley (edited 18 February 2006).]

[October Woods]

Sorry about the loss of your dog, animals are wonderful companions and they leave large voids in ones life when they pass.

Last year while you folks were in the Catskills having a get together I was there too and met a few of the folks from here. My agenda had already been spoken for or else I would have alloted some time to include myself in some of the things you all were doing but we were having a private bamboo gathering at a farm just down the road from the Greek Monestary.

I retired at the end of April and have not had a dog for over 25 years due to the time it takes to properly train a gun dog and maintain a lifestyle of exercise, training and family time. Since my job took the bulk of my time and owning up to the fact that trying to turn back the degradation that 65 years of neglect had done to the house we'd just purchased time was something I didn't have any of to spare so having a dog and fishing took a back seat for many a year.

My wife and I had lost our last pet the previous Labor Day when our 17 y/o cat Maxwell died at our camp in the White Mountains, we buried him there and came home.

Since our time and efforts as caretakers for her mom, she was 88 at the time and has Alzheimers, took a great deal of our lives getting another pet was definitely out of the question. Her mom had a mild stroke in Feb. 2005 and it became painfully obvious hse would need more care than we could offer her so she now resides in an Adult Alzheimers Living Assistance Facility and is doing very well.

Needless to say our lives went from full time round the clock care to a screeching halt and with my retirement facing me square in the face we discussed adopting a dog.

Only days later my wife called me at work to say that there was a family in the next town over from us that was putting a 7 y/o female Weimaraner up for adoption as they were moving to Ireland and weren't sure they could take her with them.

I called the number and spoke with the woman and made arrangements to meet that evening at our home. She came by with her toddler and her Weimaraner, Olive.

We all hit it off just great and agreed to a trial and the next 3 weeks went very well, it was to be we would take her for extended periods and she would go home also then with a week left for me to work my wife would be on school vacation and Olive would stay with us and then her folks would head for Ireland.

I'd like to say it was a happy ending for us but it wasn't to be as the woman saw how much Olive loved me and the thought of losing her wasn't something she was prepared for so she backed out.

Sad over this event I became rather depressed but after a few days I decided to regain my composure and begin by seeking out a Weimaraner through the Weimaraner Rescue Network over the Internet.

I began searching and did not find much available in our neck of the woods but still took time each day to search and write emails of inquiry.

It took a few weeks but dogs began showing up within our area of reach but I was either too late with my inquiry or the animal had some issues that would not fit our lifestyle.

After another week it became apparent that it might take quite awhile for a dog that would fit us would be available so I began planning for my retirement and some serious travelling to fish, meet the many folks I've conversed with from the various sites I frequent who have an affinity for bamboo and catch up with life.

I commited to being in the Catskills for a week right after retiring for a Gathering of the Clan and Casting for Recovery Auction we set up, coming home and going back for a second trip a week later for a Bamboo Gathering which I mentioned at the beginning, return home for 10 days then drive to Michigan for 10 days and enjoy the festivities called Greyrock (a bamboo rod makers gathering in Grayling) then 15 days later I'd fly to California to hook up with one of the moderators from my website where we'd meet with several members from my website, which included rod maker Chris Raine, and fish the Upper Sacremento then drive up the coast to Oregon for the Camp Sherman Rod makers Gathering after which I'd return home with lot's more planned.

It was just before the first Catskill trip I found a Weimaraner named Levi in a rescue in Massachusetts some 2 1/2 hours drive from my home. I emailed the organization a left a voicemail on their answering machine as well.

I received a phonecall later that evening from a young lady named Candace who worked at Dog Orphans where Levi was and made arrangements to meet him the next day.

As I said it took 2 1/2 hours to drive there and I met Levi, spent 45 minutes with him in the exercise area and decided he was a sweet guy I'd like to adopt and told Candace I'd like to fill out the paperwork when we went back inside.

I was quite surprised by how many questions were on the application but got it filled out and was told that there were 7 people interested in Levi for adoption and they would field all the candidates and choose the one that fit his needs best over the next week to ten days. I thanked her, told her about my upcoming trip and gave her my cellphone number and what dates to use it for were I chosen and headed back home.

I went to the Catskills and returned home without any messages about Levi and when I checked my email found nothing there either so I called to find out if he had been placed. I was told by Candace that there had been more applications and her boss was at a seminar and would not be back for 5 more days but they had managed to slim the candidates list to 5 and I was one of them. I told her to keep my cellphone number handy and explained I would be travelling again and gave her the dates which to use that number.

Still not hearing from Dog Orpahns I set out for the Catskills again to meet up with the BoBs (boys of bamboo). Having had the opportunity to fish the Catskills for the first time less than 2 weeks prior gave me some ideas of places I wanted to try I did not have the chance to on the previous visit, one of them being a pool on the Willowemoc down river from the Junction Pool as you head to the Catskills Fly Fishing Museum and the other was the runs at the museums bridge, specifically Wulffs Run.

The pool I spoke about always had from 6-10 anglers stuffed in it and not wishing to be in a crowd I avoided it. It was Weds. morning and I had made plans to fish Wulffs run and spend some time in the museum, meet up with Ken and Al for a cigar exchange, stop by an antique shop Andre' had mentioned had some nice vintage tackle, books and catalogs, get back to the house we were staying at and prepare the evening meal I promised then fish and enjoy life.

Sunrise was particularly gorgeous that morning, I enjoyed a cup of coffee as I cast a fly over some bass on the pond at the property we were at. Then loaded up the Pilot and headed to the museum. As It turned up the road 7 deer watched me drive by and less than 3 miles up the road I had to brake to allow a mother black bear and 2 cubs cross the road.
As I came around the bend of the road the lovely pool I mentioned took my breath away and I realized it was empty. I quickly pulled into the parking area and strung up my 7613 clone built by a friend and headed for the pool.

The water was cold and I was wearing breathables so I wans't sure how long I'd last. The river was running 89 CFM and there were 12 fish working the seam the whole thing was surreal.

I lost my first Sulphur in thefirst fish that struck, my second in the forth and finally blew a cast that put them down after hooking eight of them and then the chills hit. A quick look at my watch showed nearly 4 hours since I'd left to get here so I got off the water.

Just as I reached the Pilot 5 vehicles pulled into the parking lot and emptied out their contents of FF'ers to the pool, timing is a great thing.

Off to the museum I went to warm up and would plunge myself into Wulffs Run as I left. Got to the museum to find the water empty so I parked the Pilot and went inside. Spent about 35 minutes looking at the things I wanted to and felt I had warmed enough to hit Wulffs Run so I left.

As I crossed over the bridge I saw an angler was in Wulffs Run and it was a woman casting elegantly so I stopped for a moment to watch and saw it was Joan Salvato Wulff! Holy Cow, there's no way I'm going to hang around and fish the run after she did so I decided to head to meet Ken and Al at the B&B they were at.

Got to the B&B and Ken was loading up Al's Jeep with equipment so we went inside to have a cup of coffee and trade cigars. The coffee was wonderful and the cigars incredible. Told them about how things had been going thus far and we agreed this was a day for the books. Ken gave me directions to the antique shop Andre' had mentioned and I wished them a great day on the water and safe travels as they headed home later in the day.

Found the shop without incident and as I came up to the door came face to face with Jerry Girard, well known dealer from PA, and a friend. We shot the breeze for awhile and went inside where I met the owner who is a dealer for rod maker John Gallas. Got to cast a lovley 7'9" Gallas which was a Payne Parabolic clone and just lovely. Saw some beautiful rods and reels, bought some magazines, a catalog and some other stuff and realized it was getting late and that I should head back to the farm if I was going to get supper ready in time for everyone.

Heading back I was enjoying the sweet reverie of what the day I was experiencing had unfolded and was thinking it's been a long time since I'd been dealt such a memory. Approaching the Greek Monestary I was suddenly aware of an electronic rumbling in my chest and returned to reality long enough to realize I'd left my cellphone on vibrate and it was demanding my attention from my pocket. I pulled over across from the monestary and dialed the answering sevice to find I had 3 messages so I listened to the first to hear Andre' thanking me for the Roast Pork Dinner I had prepared on Monday and to invite me out to dinner on Thursday. the nest message was from rod maker Gary Lacey giving me lip for being on a fishing trip and the last was fron Candace at Dog Orphans asking me to call them.

I quickly hit the speedial button to the Dog Orphans phone number and was greeted with Candaces voice stating "Dog Orphans, good morning, this is Candace".

I told her who I was and that I was returning her call. She told me she hoed I was enjoying my trip and that I had been chosen to adopt Levi, he had been found to have Lyme Disease at the required physical but that he was on medication and that if I did not want to adopt him knowing this they would understand.

I was speechless and only repsonded again when Candace asked if I were still there. I remember stammering apologetically as I recapped the events of this day and asked if the vet had a prognosis for Levi and Lyme Disease and was told they had caught it early and it was felt he would recover. I told Candace that since there would be a chance of Levi getting it where I lived I would still have to take precautions with him in the form of vaccinations etc and that would not prevent me from adopting him.

I realize I just wrote a book here and for that I apologize but life has been wonderful and it all started on a surreal day in the Catskills that gave me this gift of a dog named Levi....Tight lines.......

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Oct Woods
Visit my website:
[url=http://mysite.verizon.net/vze2h7gi/fishnbanjossliceoflifeincyberspacecopy/index.html:77d28]Fishnbanjos Place[/url:77d28]

[Marco]

Hey there October Woods,
Great story (book). Kinda reminds me of the "required elements" of a classic country /western song. It must have mention of Momma, trains and pick-up trucks. Your story filled all the "requirements" for a great fishing story,friends rods,waters,cigars,dogs and pork roast
It was a good read. I hope all's well with you and Levi.

Mark

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Trout must be Gods favorite fish cause He put them into His most beautiful waters.
(plagiarized qoute)

[mickmcco]

My number 2 golden, "Hal", went with me to a private trout stream several years ago. I made it clear to him that he was to stay out of the water, though he really wanted to "help" me every time I hooked a fish. He'd watch the strike indicator and get visibly excited whenever it moved. Well, I waded out toward the middle of a big pool and hooked another fish. I could hear Hal whine close behind me. I turned to see all 100 pounds of him balanced on a small rock a couple yards behind me. So technically he was still above the water line, but he'd had to swim to get there. But he was clearly where he wanted to be, offering help to me.

[Jonezee]

It all began in the early eighties, a big black lab named Boston Blackie (Boston) a two year old, big green (color is important, you will see later) 4 door Oldsmobile and a late season goose hunt on Sauvie Island in Oregon. Boston and I hiked out in the early morning fog from the game commission parking lot, it was cold and damp, been raining all night and now it was misting. Mud everywhere and the ponds on the north end of the island would be full of geese. We had a good hunt, bagged our limit and it was time to head back to the parking lot and a warm car. On the way back I could see Boston was having a pretty hard time of it, the mud in the trail slowed us both down, me with the pack of decoys, geese and gun, and Boston trying to make every step count and make progress forward. My thoughts were this would probably be Boston's last hunt. Early in the morning at home, my decision had been to go alone, the ponds would be shallow and a dog really wasn't needed for retreiving but Boston saw the gun and was already out the door. Now we approached the parking lot and I could see there were only two cars there, mine and a four door green Honda. As I opened the trunk of my car to put in the decoys, without looking I told Boston to "kennel up" and hop in the back of the car. I had opened the back door first and made sure the burlap tarp was covering everthing as usual because Boston was covered from head to tail with wet mud. All of a sudden I heard screams and skriks and as I looked over to the green Honda, there in the back seat of this new pristine car lay Boston! Here were two city bird watchers with their cameras, kit bags and who knows what else all covered with mud from Boston. The guy was one one side of the car with his hands over his ears, head moving from side to side muttering Oh no Oh no Oh no and the young lady partner on the other side doing exactly the same thing, Oh no Oh no.....I ran over, pulled Boston out, apologizing all the time pointed him toward the Old's and in he jumpped. I wasted no time speeding out of the lot and on down the road. As I looked in the rear view mirror I could see the young couple, still standing there with hands over heads an probably uttering still Oh no Oh no. Boston passed away two weeks later, the vet said old age and in his opinion lived a full life. My opinion too. I buried Boston on the island close to our blind with the help of a friend and his jeep. I'm sure the bird watchers don't have much of an impression of big black dogs, my impression is a best friend with no compromises, Boston.

[ducksterman]

I know without reservation that any of you folks contributing to this string or reading it would really appreciate the book..."PANTHER and Other Stories of Great Hunting Retrievers".

My Gypsy...[ the best of many labs I've had] is currently 13 1/2 years and still in great shape but I'm beginning to get sad over the inevitable.

[This message has been edited by ducksterman (edited 16 February 2006).]