Well I knew this day was coming, and it finally came yesterday. My old boy of 14 years finally got his name called across the rainbow bridge.
My cousin was killed back in July and was an avid dog trainer and Buckshot came from one of his litters from Cedar Swamp Retrievers.
Buckshot was an excellent judge of character with the women folk, and an even better judge of who was the best shot in the dove field, duck blind, or whatever we were hunting that day. He helped me propose to my wife, and was gentle with any child that tried to do Lord knows what to him.
He was a thorough pain in my ass in tearing up my back yard, but he was a great meat dog. He was that dog that old timers talk about having in their lives over the years. Legend has it that there’s only one in a lifetime. He wasn’t perfect by field trial standards, but he was hell in a hunting situation. I am sure that Adam had already corrected my training mistakes with him and that they are terrorizing doves and ducks in Heaven.
Until we meet again old friend, I hope you are crushing it without me.
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