Adventures of a young man and a dog named Dan

[JD]

Part 10



“Damn it!” I yelled, “get me the towel, and the horse wrap out of my vest”. I was holding Dan, trying to control the blood loss. It was a tremendous amount pouring from his weakening body. Mike quickly handed me the towel, and I wrapped it around his abdomen. There was so much blood; I couldn’t even tell how bad he was hurt. Once I got the towel around him, I used the horse wrap to go around and secured the towel in place as well as put some pressure on the wound.

Mike grabbed the shotguns and took off for the truck. I picked up Dan and started the long walk back. He didn’t make one sound, and was going in and out of unconsciousness. I had half walked, half ran a hundred yards or so when I heard the GMC roar to life. Mike was now inbound towards me, driving incredibly fast across a cornfield. He came to a sliding stop in front of me, and we were off.

I held Dan as we were screaming towards town. I knew, we would not make it and Dan would die in my arms. As I looked down, we were both absolutely covered in blood. Dan was now panting, but the breaths were very shallow.

Mike’s truck screeched to a halt in the parking lot of the animal hospital. We rushed inside, and the vets and techs sprang into action. They placed Dan on a gurney, and wheeled him back into the ER after quickly asking for an assessment. I didn’t have much to tell them as I had never seen the injury, just the blood. We walked into the waiting room, and Mike took a seat while I went into the restroom to clean up a bit. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I absolutely lost it. I was simply covered in blood. There was NO way he could survive.

I walked back out to the waiting room and took a seat next to Mike. We could hear the people in the other room working on Dan. A few minutes later I heard a vet say, “It doesn’t look good”. My heart sank. A vet tech came out and told us they were working on him but he had lost a lot of blood. Gee, tell me something I don’t know. Then she returned to the ER closing the door behind her.

We sat there in silence. What the hell had just happened? Was this real, or was this a nightmare? Time seemed to drag on like it was being held in place by a heavy weight. The very same heavy weight that was also pulling on my heart strings. I felt completely useless. I knew that it was out of my hands, and there was nothing I could do to help my buddy laying in the other room.

After an hour and a half had gone by, although it seemed like a day, the head vet came out and sat down in a chair he pulled up in front of us. He explained that Dan had lost a lot of blood, but they had gotten it stopped. Dan had gotten stabbed by something small, but it had pierced an artery. The vet had him sedated, the wound was closed, and he was on IV. I was both elated and devastated when he told me that he had a 50-50 chance. The tears were again flowing when the vet got up, and went back into the other room.

We sat there in perfect silence for the next two hours, mostly in shock and disbelief. Finally the vet came back out with the news. “I think he is going to make it”. I asked if I could go back and see him, and the vet led me back to the room. As I walked into the room, I could see they had gotten Dan cleaned up. When he saw me walk into the room, his tail began to wag every so gently. For the third time that day, the tears flowed freely. I bent down and gave him a hug, and was rewarded with a big sloppy kiss on the face.

We left the hospital a little while later, although it felt vey odd to leave my good friend behind. The vet wanted him to stay there for a day or two for observation. I was perfectly OK with that, I just wanted my friend to get better.

[passinthru]

Man i almost had a tear in my eye!!! Ive been there at a time like that with one of my dogs.

[allhunter]

Wow that's sad if something ever happened to my dogs id be the same way

[jtrtmt]

greats stories

[deerslayer]

Great story so far JD..........

[JD]

Part 11

Dan got to come home on Sunday. The first night, the vet actually took him home with him to keep an eye on him. While he was a ton better, he still had the wind knocked out of his sails. He spent a lot of time down. He would get up and eat, go outside to do his business and then come right back inside and lay down. He was on antibiotics to try and keep any infection at bay. He also sucked up all the extra attention and love like a dry sponge.

Ten days after his mishap, the stitches came out. By this time he was pretty much back to himself. We started working again in the backyard, increasing the time slowly as we went along. In no time he was back to his old, full-throttle livin’ life at 100mph. We were getting close to going back out. And this time, he would be sporting his own hunting apparel. He had a brand new blaze orange neoprene chest/stomach vest for protection.

We were tearing through December and Dan was getting anxious to get out hunting. I was nervous, but looking forward to it as well. I decided that for safety’s sake, we would be going to the preserve. A lady I worked with, and her husband, owned a very fine pheasant hunting and sporting clays outfit. I had worked out a deal with them a few years before; I would hunt coyotes and feral cats on their property and in return I got a great discount on pheasants as well as permission to deer hunt. It was a win-win situation for us all. They were overrun with yotes and cats that decimated the pheasants and rabbits, and I benefited with more hunting.

I called Thelma on her day off and talked to her about setting up a bird hunt. She said that they had a group coming from Chicago Saturday morning who had ordered 50 roosters and 50 hens. I could come out after them and do clean-up, and get my birds for free. She said they always ordered 100 birds, and rarely bagged 50. And since they already paid for them, it didn’t matter to her one bit. So, the plan was set.

We arrived at the preserve after lunch. We pulled up into the driveway of their house and Dan jumped out and ran up to the front door. We spent quite a bit of time with Thelma and Norm, and this was almost a second home for him. They had even watched him a time or two when I was out of town. Thelma opened the door and invited us into the house and proceeded to shower Dan with love and affection. Then we had to go into the kitchen so her “special boy” could have a dog treat. She offered me a cup of coffee and we sat down at the dining room table. Dan went over and sat down next to Thelma and started in on his treat. She told me that Norm was out in the shed cleaning up the feathers from cleaning the mornings birds. The Orange Army from Chicago had managed to bag 21 roosters and 28 hens. Prospects were certainly high for us today.

After a half hour or so, and 3 cups of coffee, Dan and I decided to venture out. We went out and got in the truck and headed off down the road. I had decided to come into the back side of the property as that is where this mornings hunters had began. I pulled off the road and entered the short drive. I quickly got out, opened the gate and got back in. Once through, I stopped and closed the gate. We drove a short ways down the side of the field and parked the truck. Dan got out and seemed very excited. First thing I did was to put his new protective vest on. He didn’t mind it one bit, as we had been working with him wearing it for a while now. I didn’t bother hooking him to his lead as this was familiar territory to him. Also, as we spent time together, he just stayed right by me. I got out my hunting vest, and did a double check to make sure I had all the essentials. The small first aid kit I carried had been replenished since our last outing. A few new items had been added as well, such as a blood clotting powder. This day I was going to be carrying my 686 Onyx. Being on a preserve, there was no need for the heavy loads of large shot. I dropped a couple low base 1oz #6 shells into the svelte Beretta, and told Dan it was time to go.

It was a very short walk to the first field. It was a dense grass that was about waist high. This section was roughly 50 yards wide and 100 yards long. There was some snow on the ground, but only a couple inches. Dan stood there, flag held high, looking over the field. After a few moments he started to trot into the field. It wasn’t long and he was acting birdie. In short order he was locked up solid on point. I crept up to him slowly, and started kicking the clump of grass in front of me. In an explosion of wing beats and cackles, a rooster cleared the grass. In an instant I was on him the 686 barked once. The rooster went down as fast as he had come up, not more than 20 yards from us. I gave Dan the fetch command and he took off after it. Second bound in, up comes another rooster. This one was breaking to my left, and seemed to be much faster. I quickly mounted the over under and it barked once more. This bird landed right in the middle of the mown path. While Dan was busy trying to locate the first bird, I reloaded and went over to pick up number two. In short order Dan was running back to me carrying the first bird. The first bird has definitely a typical preserve bird. The second bird was definitely a wild rooster. It was at least 25% bigger, and the tail feathers were much longer. Both beautiful birds.

After a few hours, we were both starting to get cold and we were losing light. It had been a great day. We managed to bag 9 roosters and 7 hens, and I only had two misses. We walked back to the truck and Dan hopped on up in the cab while I loaded up the gear. Within minutes we were pulling back into Thelma and Norm’s place, where I parked in front of the shed. They always let me go inside to use their bird cleaning station. I would even stop in here to clean birds if I had been hunting somewhere in the area. It was warm, and built to do the job. The even had a bird plucking machine that made quick, easy work of feather removal. Dan went over and got a drink out if the water bucket and laid down in front of the heater for a much deserved nap while I worked. Thelma came out to see how we had done, and invited us to stay for dinner. I graciously accepted, and she told me to come on up the house when I was done.

The birds were cleaned, packaged, and ready for the freezer in no time. I cleaned up the remnants, washed up, and we headed for the truck to put stuff away. Then Dan and I went up to the front door and let ourselves in. Thelma had fixed Dan’s favorite dish, hamburger gravy over fried potatoes. She already had a plate on the counter cooling for him. He was so spoiled. After a hardy supper, I helped Thelma clean up and do the dishes. Then it was time to head back home. As I got in the truck, and buckled my seatbelt, Dan laid his head on my leg and was fast asleep. It sure was great to be hunting with my friend again.

[passinthru]

Just awesome writing Jd. Keep it up!!!

[allhunter]

Nice keep them comin

[JD]

Part 12

For the remainder of that season, we only hunted at the preserve. While Dan was back to his old self, I was still nervous to hunt elsewhere. Not to mention that we were behind, the freezer wasn’t nearly as full I would have liked it to have been. Dan could not have cared less. He just wanted to be out in the field, doing what he so loved to do. It didn’t matter to him which field, or which farm we were on as long as he got to hunt birds.

The season had ended, and the snow was finally starting to thaw. Once it was warmed up some, we began working again on a regular basis. Tracking, holding point, and retrieving were gone over and over. We did this to keep both of up honed, as well as to spend time together. While I’m sure he loved to hunt, he also loved the attention and praise as well as spending time with me. And we spent as much time together as was possible. Dan was not just a dog to take hunting, and then put away like a gun. He was a member of the family. That meant he was inside, and had his own bed. I’m not talking about a overstuffed pillow labeled as a “dog bed”, I mean he had his own twin size bed. It had been a spare my parents had when we were a foster home. It never got any use, and Dan sure loved it. It had been in the spare bedroom, but I had moved it into my bedroom. Every night, I would let him in from outside, and we would head to my room. I would get in bed, Dan would give me a hug and then jump up onto his bed. It was great, except sometimes he would snore excessively.

Summer was just beginning, and it was my birthday. My father woke me up at 5:00 a.m., loudly exclaiming “You can’t spend your birthday in bed ya lazy ass!” Dan and I moped out to the dining room where I let him out to do his thing, and then headed for the kitchen for a cup of caffeine. Ever since my father had retired, he still felt the need to get up at 4 in the morning, and could not understand why on earth no one else was up. My parents gave me a card, and a wrapped present. I opened the card, and was quickly reminded how sarcastic my father can be. The card read, on the front, “When they made you the broke the mold.” On the inside, “And rumor has it they beat the hell out of the mold makertoo.” Gee, THANKS dad, love you too! I then opened the wrapped gift in front of me, which turned out to be a fire extinguisher. Great, the old man’s finally gone off his rocker. While on the inside I am thinking, now what the hell am I going to do with this? But on the outside, I manage to grumble out a thanks for the gift…I suppose. I mean what the heck? Then he took me to the front door, and now I am starting to think he set something on fire just so I can use this gift. My father can be weird that way. Just when I thought I might have him figured out, he throws me a curve ball. Sitting in the driveway is a bass boat. By no means was it knew, hell it was only one year younger than me. But it was in immaculate condition. THIS is what the fire extinguisher was for.

The entire summer was spent on that boat, as much as possible. I hauled that thing all over northern Illinois, and even up into Wisconsin a couple times. And right by my side, for every adventure, was Dan. He loved that boat just about as much as me. As soon as I would start to get it loaded, he was in it. While we would be cruising up the river, or lake, he was sitting up front. Nose to the wind, ears flapping, and dog drool stringing off like a fool. But he was happy. A happiness I have never before, or since, seen in a dog.

[allhunter]

Great section

[passinthru]

Still lovin it!!

[deerslayer]

Real nice bud!

[JD]

Been a while, but I started back on this.

[JD]

Part 13

Mrs. Doubtfire

That summer was very busy for Dan and I. When I wasn’t working at my “day job”, I was either working at the farm, fishing, or brushing up on bird training. Dan was with me at all times, except for when I was at my day job. As soon as I got off of work, I would go home, get Dan, and then go where ever to do what ever. Very few times did Dan have to stay at home, and when he did he would pout for hours on end.

One of my summer side jobs this year was to help Mike and his dad take down their old barn. It was quite the process since it had hay in it for many years up in the loft, and had corral stalls for cattle down below. The day before we were to knock it down, we had a slight mishap. A farm cat had ventured into the barn and found a hidden place to have het kittens. We were not aware that the cat and her kittens we in there. Well, we ended up knocking over some corral panels, and killed the mother cat. We then found the kittens tucked away, all of two weeks old. Mike’s dad was a very nice person, but he was an old school farmer. His comment kind of shocked me, when he said “just take a hammer and git rid of ‘em”. Sorry, but there is NO way I can kill a kitten with a hammer! Damn, that’s harsh!

I loaded the kittens up in a box, and we stopped by where I worked and I picked up some milk replacer, and eye dropper, and a few other incidentals. Then I took the kittens home, determined to do my best. Dan had not been with me today, and I had no idea how this meeting was going to go. We had two house cats, and Dan tolerated them. He didn’t like them, but he left them alone. However, whenever we would encounter a feral cat while we were hunting, he would do his best to catch it. This would be interesting.

Once situated inside, I mixed up the milk replacer and we started to feed the kittens. You could tell that they had not eaten for a while. My mom even came in and helped us feed them. There were four in total, and looked like little balls of fur. Once they had their fill, we decided it was time for the introduction. I opened the back door, and hollered for Dan. At the sound of my voice he came charging up the deck and into the house tail wagging ecstatically.

I took one of the tiny kittens in my hand and started to bend down while telling Dan “easy”. He slowly crept up and took in a big smell. The kitten instinctively spat, and Dan jumped back. Oh great, here we go! However, Dan did not get aggressive. He slowly came back again. Again the kitten spat, but instead of jumping back Dan just outright licked the cat. That sealed the deal, they were fine with each other.

Within a day, the situation had fastly evolved. Dan was now, 100%, the MOTHER to those kittens. He would lay down, and they would come in and snuggle into him and go to sleep. After they would eat, he would give each of them a bath from the tip of their heads to the end of their tails. He would pick them up by the nape if their necks, and carry them to different places in the house where he could keep them corralled. By all intents and purposes, they were mother and children. Quickly, Dan had earned the nickname of Mrs. Doubtfire.

Nine weeks later the kittens were taken to their new homes. Two went back to the farm where they had come from. The other two went to Thelma and Norm’s place to live a wonderful life in their clubhouse. Dan was upset, but quickly got over them being gone. And that was a good thing as hunting season was right around the corner!

[allhunter]

Great section! Glad to have it back

[passinthru]

Glad to see ya back writing. Still lovin it!

[JD]

This piece is coming out of order. I forgot to write this up, so thought I would now. This part takes place a couple months after I got Dan.


The end of “summer” was fastly approaching. As in I would be entering my first year of college in a few short weeks. My parents were out of town, and Dan and I were “Batching” it. We had worked on some basic commands that day in the back yard, but nothing to strenuous. I had decided earlier in the day to grill up some ribs, and had invited Mike over to have supper with us as his parents were also out of town.

Mike came over around three in the afternoon, and we reloaded some shotgun shells for the upcoming weeks’ trap league while the ribs were on the grill. While we shot every single week, we hardly ever loaded up more than we needed for that week. We were both on two leagues, so that meant we each shot 200 rounds per week. Loading a total of 400 rounds per week on a single stage Mec loader took quite a bit of time. We finished, cleaned up and had dinner around five. Dan thought he was in seventh heaven, I had grilled up some beef ribs just for him.

When we were done eating, and cleaning up, we started thinking about what to do for the evening. For the night was still young. We went back into the gun room and put away the last of the reloading supplies, and took a quick inventory to ensure we were properly stocked for the remainder of the trap leagues. While we had plenty of primers, wads, and shot it was apparent that we would be needing to pick up another 8 pound can. Mike commented that he was surprised we were running low. That is, until I pointed out that we had just loaded over 1,000 rounds of 45 ACP the week before and has used the 700X for that. With that, we started looking at ammo in general to see what we had. Lo and behold, we found several ammo cans stashed in the corner we had forgotten about. It was almost like Christmas! Two 50-cal ammo cans were plum full of 22lr. We also found two cans of 30-06 we had loaded up several months back. We also found the 500 rounds of 30-30 Mike had reloaded for his old Model 94.

Well, it was no longer a mystery. We KNEW what we were doing this Saturday night, heading to the range! While it would be dark, our club had a lighted rifle range. While it was difficult to shoot out to 200 yards, the lights were very adequate to 100 yards. Besides, tonight would not be about accurate bench shooting, but plinking and having fun. Mike ran home to get his rifles and I started to pick out mine and get them cased up. Dan curled up on a blanket in the corner and took a nap.

I pulled out several long guns, and placed them on a rack near my workbench. Once I had decided what was going, I would then put them in cases. I decided to take the Mini-14 in 223, a Bushmaster AR-15 223 that was an old school A2, a Ruger #1 30-06, a Browning BAR in 30-06, a Marlin mod 60 in 22lr, and my beloved Remington mod 12-C in 22lr. Normally I would have taken more, but I didn’t want to be up all night cleaning them. By the time I got them picked out, cased, and hauled to the front door with the ammo, Mike was back. He had grabbed his Model 94 30-30, a Remington 700 in 375 H&H Mag, and his Remington mod 12-c in 22lr. We always found it odd that we were both given the same old model 22lr when we were kids.

We quickly got everything loaded into his truck. The last thing to grab was Dan’s crate. I put it in the back of the truck, and with little prompting Dan jumped into the back of the truck and into his crate. If Mike was driving, Dan had to be in his crate in the back. His truck was a regular cab that had the two captains chairs. No room for a big dog. So we were off, headed north on a beautiful evening.

By the time we were done shooting, it was pushing 10:00 pm. It was almost 11:00 by the time we were done picking up brass, and getting the guns put away. It had been a great evening, with one exception. My Remington Model 12-C had had some sort of malfunction. It would no longer feed from the magazine, and would only shoot as a single shot. Then, even that became difficult as the action had gotten tighter and tighter. I had just figured it was thoroughly dirty and needed to be stripped down and cleaned. Not a job to try at the range, it needed to be tackled at home on the workbench. So, I had put it away in the truck earlier in the evening.

The last thing we had to do was turn off the lights, and drive out through the club. Last stop was to unlock/open and then close/lock the front gate. The shooting range sits a couple hundred yards from a very small “town”. I would use that term very loosely, as it was basically a small group of a dozen or so homes. We drove through the town, crossed the railroad tracks, and just started to pick up speed. Mike slammed on the brakes, and swerved, barely missing a dog that ran in front of us. We didn’t get a real good look, but it appeared to have been already hit once, or in some other way injured. We both saw it limping badly, and it looked like it had blood on its hair.

We stopped completely, and wanted to get a better look at it. If it was injured, we wanted to see if we could find the owner and or get it some help. I reached into the center console and pulled out the spotlight that was kept in there. I plugged in the 1,000,000 candle power beast and proceeded to light up the field around us. There was absolutely no sign of the dog, anywhere. We even asked each other to make sure there was a dog in the first place. We could see back to town, a quarter mile the other direction, and probably that far out into the hay fields. Nothing, absolutely nothing. I even went down into the ditch to make sure there wasn’t a culvert under the road. The dog was just gone.

I got the spotlight put away, and we get ready to head on home when headlights lit up the front windshield. The flashing red and blue lights lit up the windshield. A state trooper had been sitting up at the corner and had seen the spotlight. She asked us what the problem was, and we explained what had happened. She asked if we had any weapons in the vehicle, and we affirmed that we had. She asked us to get out of the truck, and to stand in between it and her cruiser. She also took our drivers licenses, and went back to her cruiser. We stood there for quite a while chit chatting and starting to get really cold as the temperature was dropping unseasonably low. All the while, the state trooper is in her car. Finally, we saw another set of headlights coming down the road, and the car pulled in behind the cruiser, and its lights started flashing. We both were kind of curious what was going on. This officer got out of his cruiser, and walked up and leaned into the state troopers window where they talked for several minutes. Finally, he walked up to us.

This officer was immediately identifiable as Illinois Conservation. He asked where in the vehicle the weapons were, and we told him behind the seats. He then proceeded to retrieve each of the guns, uncase it, and then examine it. While he was doing this, he was very cordial and asked where we had been shooting. We answered his questions, and explained to him what we were doing here in the first place. As he got near the end, he pulled out my Model 12-C. It then hit me like a pile of bricks, it was uncased. He wanted to know why this rifle was not cased, and I explained that it had malfunctioned early in the evening, and I had just put it in the truck and forgot to case it later. Then he racks the pump back, and out jumps a spent shell casing. I then had to explain how the gun had quit feeding from the magazine, and I had to single load and fire it, and had forgotten to kick the empty out. He got all of the serial numbers off of the guns, and went back to his cruiser to run them to see if they were stolen. All the while, we were standing in the road, freezing our butts off. After 15 minutes or so, the officer got out of his car and came back to us. First thing he says, “I’m going to place you boys under arrest”.

Mike and I blurt out, in stereo, “FOR WHAT”? He informs us that he believes that there was no dog, and that we were spotlighting and shooting raccoons off of the power poles. The state trooper saw the spotlight, and we had an uncased rifle in the truck with a spent round in the chamber. Mike absolutely shut down. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, and if I couldn’t see him breathing would have thought him to be a statue. Myself on the other hand, I freaking lost it. I broke out into a 3 minute tirade, calling this officer everything but a white boy, where he could go, and most certainly what he could do when he got there. There may have also been some comments about his family lineage, and things he may or may not have done with his mother. The entire time I am berating this man, he is just standing there absorbing it all. When I am done, he simply asks if that is all. After a couple more expletives, he tells us not to move one inch, and goes back to his cruiser. We stand and wait, for what seemed like an eternity but was probably closer to another 30 minutes. Finally the car door opens, and the officer walks back up to us. He gave us each a ticket for an uncased firearm, and a written warning for road hunting. When he said that, I almost started back in but a very quick thinking friend simply told me to “SHUT UP!”. Within a few minutes we were packed back up, and heading home. Narrowly avoiding spending the weekend in jail as no one could have bailed us out until morning. Dan slept through most of the ordeal, we could hear his snoring almost 25 feet away.

College soon began, and it was my first day. My first class was Intro To Criminal Justice. I was an overflow class, meaning that the main class was full and the extra students were in this class. All nine of us. At 8:45, the instructor walked into the room, and I glared. It was the SAME Conservation Officer. He didn’t seem to recognize me, and things progressed smoothly. A month or so later, we were going over misdemeanors and felonies in class. The instructor was writing on the chalk board, with his back to the class. The he says, “by the way Mr. JD, that was a Class B misdemeanor punishable by up to 2 years in jail and a $100,000 fine.” I didn’t say anything, and he continued, “it was a cold night, wasn’t it?” I replied, “it sure was”. The class is looking back and forth at me and him, but saying nothing. So then I asked him a question, one that had been bugging me ever since that night. “Why didn’t you arrest me?” He quickly replied, “because of the way you acted when I told you I was going to arrest you”. I was a little confused, “huh”? I said, “I said some pretty horrible things to you”. The instructor then told me “the way you acted was exactly how an innocent person would act when wrongly accused”. I said, “OK then why did you still ticket us if you thought we were innocent?”. I still remember exactly what he said, “I thought you were probably innocent, but there was still a chance you were just a prick”. We both had a good laugh, and the other students never did find out the details. We actually became pretty good friends, and he finally did believe I was 100% innocent, and a prick as well.

[mrdlschmidt]

LOL...

[passinthru]

Good stuff Jd!

[allhunter]

haha probably the best story ever