Lost Companion

 

Ever since I can remember there has been dog’s in my household, mainly Springer Spaniels and Labrador ’s. The dog that sticks out most in my memory was “tess” a black and white spaniel.

She was my Dad’s dog used for rough shooting and wildfowling. As well as being a companion on walk’s & fishing trips. I remember she would wag her tail when the fishing rod’s moved. He would always wait until commanded to retrieve, she would sit and stay on command. One occasion when I was about 8 years old, dad and me came across a grumpy old stallion in a field. The dog sat & stayed at one end of the field until we cleared the horse’s field. She came to us on demand.

I have many good memories with Tess. Tess was 16years old when she had to be put down due to bowel problems. The family was devastated especially dad. As the dog had given him 16 years of good sport and happiness.

When I was around about 14 I started getting into other field sports, ferreting & lamping. I accompanied some of my dad’s friends on night’s lamping and really enjoyed myself. In typical young boy style I wanted a lurcher to run on the lamp. My dad refused, I was too young. For years I went on about getting a lurcher until one day in 2005 he cracked. I was to get a lurcher.

May 7 th 2005 I set off to a local lurcher & terrier show. A few litters were around, one dog stuck out in my mind, he was brindle in colour & very quiet. I handed over £100 for the dog. On arrival back home he was placed in the newly built dog run to settle in. I was rushing around like a mad dog getting puppy foods and water bowls. This would be my chance to prove I could look after a dog.

 

I grew attached to the dog, which had three different names before he was four months old until I finally decided on the best name for him. I was dying to see him working in the field. Months went by, as the dog grew attached to me.

 

 

There was one area of land I would always take him 3 or 4 times a week for his daily walk. He knew the land as well as I did, every rabbit run, every hold every nook and cranny where there could be a rabbit sitting. He was around about five months old when he first caught a rabbit. In fact he caught two, daytime. I wasn’t intentionally running him at the rabbits at his age, but it was a great confidence boost for him.

 

 

As he got older he started getting more bouncy and boisterous. But he was a lovable dog and a great companion, I remember an old friend of mine (83 years old) complimenting on how the dog was a great guard dog for me, always getting between me and a third party.

I started taking him out with my mates with the lamp at about 6 months old, just for him to watch the other dogs in action. He was always alert and wanting to run himself. I started slipping him at 7 months old for 2 or 3 runs a night while he was still growing.

He would accompany me while ferreting, I have a cracking video of him stalking a rabbit in the reeds and watching netted holes after he heard the rabbits bolting. He would whine a lot when left on his own but that was part of who the dog was he always wanted to be with me.

The dog started getting used for lamping more frequent as he grew older; increasing to 6 or 7 runs a night, 8 or 9, 10 or 11. I remember one night; he took 5 rabbits out of 6 runs down the local fields. 5 was a good bag off them fields. The dog was a nutter, he would run close to everything, I remember sometimes cringing waiting for him to emerge, and most times he would be happy as larry with a rabbit in his mouth.

I seen him take rabbits that some of the best dog’s wouldn’t, this isn’t a boast it’s the truth. He would run anything. I remember him nearly pulling my arm from its socket one night when he seen a badger, for obvious reasons and the fact it’s no competition for a dog to catch or legal. I watched him walk quietly out of the beam.

Eventually it came to I was expecting him catching 7+ in an hour & a half around a nice bit of ground I have, which combined with the lamp and the hike back to the van up a steep hill was more than enough, I remember having to drag 12 back one time, but I was over the moon that the dog caught that many.

There was one night, it was a Saturday night very windy with a light drizzle. I went out to get some rabbit’s. The first field I looked in was always a good one for a lot of rabbits. The wood goes in an L shape around two sides of the field. I slipped the dog on a rabbit, there wasn’t many as usual. The rabbit made it in, but from the corner of the field a set of eyes popped up, the dog took chase on them. I was wondering what it was until it got to full pace.

It was a Roe Deer, a great big buck with 6point antlers. I desperately tried to call the dog off, worrying he could be injured if the buck turned. The dog wouldn’t come off the deer. It done two laps of the field before the dog struck it down by the throat. I got over as quick as I could to hopefully release the deer un-injured and more importantly keep the dog away from danger.

As I got there, the deer was kicking around, I managed to get on top of it and keep the dog away from the antlers. I held the antlers to avoid being injured myself. On closer inspection the deer wasn’t fit to be release so with a quick, swift twist I broke it’s neck, which is how I was told deer should be dispatched by an old poacher.

 

 

The dog became more confident, regularly taking double figure’s by night.

So many memories, now, the heartbreaking bit.

I went away for the weekend, leaving my brother to walk the dog for me. I got a phone call on the Sunday afternoon about 3:00 “the dog’s cut itself” okay, I though. He’s been cut before, most lurchers have. “clean it up and wait till I get back home at about 6” I said.

I arrived home to find the dog badly cut on the leg. I cleaned the dog up with anti-bacterial lotion, and applied a small towel around the wound to act as a bandage. Being a Sunday the vet’s were closed. I phoned them for advice on what to do.

I was told to apply a pressure bandage and attend the vet’s the next morning. Which I did, although I was at college, this was my first dog and I wasn’t letting him slip away easily.

I had him cleaned up at the vet’s, sedated, stitched, and loads of other things that the vets make up to cream money from you. The bill was £120. He had to go back in a week for second consultation. Which alone was £20. The dog was worth it. I was told to kennel rest him for one week, then lead walks only for one week and he would be fine.

I done what they said, but for two weeks to be safe. He seemed fine. Until one time he was let off the lead and went down. I was gutted. It was the same leg he was troubled with. Straight on the phone to the vet’s in a rage “you told me the dog would be fine in two weeks, I have give it four and he’s f-cked”

Im sure you can imagine how angry I was. I went to the vets the next day. I cam straight out with it “whats the chances of the dog running at night again”

In true Vet fashion they tried to get me to do operations X-Rays and even false ligaments. Which I was advised would cost in excess of £1000. I started getting annoyed “TELL ME WHATS THE CHANCES OF HIM RUNNING AGAIN” I was replied with “very low”

My heart sank, I was to lose my first ever companion and he hadn’t even learned to cock his leg when pissing.

 

My heart broke the very next day.