Dog Seasons
by Natalie Beacom
On paper, I had all sorts of legitimate reasons to say no to getting a dog. As if a defense attorney, I argued these points when accosted by my husband and children on the topic. It took time to cultivate, but I became savvy at avoiding the "pet talk" and could anticipate, catch a scent in the air, when the subject was coming. I was not swayed by cute dog food commercials, nor would I fall victim to the psychological warfare employed on me as they collectively tried to convince me that the dog was "for me." All well researched questions, tearful pleas and well-timed requests to reconsider were immediately deflected.
In fairness to me, I applied a very thoughtful reasoning. Were we home enough? Could our family give a dog the attention and time it deserved? Could we swing the additional expense of another mouth to feed and body to doctor? Would my daughters want a hairless hypo-allergenic designer dog with a pretty pink zebra collar that I would be expected to carry in my purse? Would I be required to send out Christmas cards with the dog in a Santa hat? These were legitimate concerns any thinking person would contemplate before adding the responsibility of a pet to their household.
For all my years of holding tight and fast, I dipped. What simply began as a timely Facebook chat with a friend followed by a phone call to another lead us down the path of "just visiting the puppy" and the hard right to the expressway with no off-ramps, straight to pet ownership. You never "just visit" a puppy; hence, our family entered what would be a first season of change as we welcomed our black Labrador Retriever, Bailey.
Springtime began the process of settling into life that now added obedience, potty and retrieval training along with shots, the right-sized crates, durable toys, organic dog food with chicken, not lamb, and a whole host of "Marley and Me"-type escapades. We essentially adopted a furry barking toddler that needed a lot and added yet another ball to juggle in addition to our school, sport, work and travel commitments.
In those craziest moments, usually reserved for when fecal matter was involved, I looked to my husband and kids in desperation, pleading, "THIS is what I meant!" But somehow, similar to spring with its natural renewal and birth all around us, things changed. Quietly, without realizing it, the responsibilities Bailey had indeed added to our family dynamic altered our whole perspective. Things didn't speed up, but slowed down. We found a calm in starting the day together walking Bay or finishing it by tossing bumpers.
Warm summer days came quickly. During a visit to the Horicon Marsh Hunt Retriever Club's 10th Annual Hunt Test, I brought Bailey along to socialize her, watch the tests and visit with the Horicon HRC experts experienced in training gun dogs. I learned that Bailey's parents, Driver and Kate, were both present and participating in the day's hunt tests. A busy day of handling for trainer, Darrel Voight, he walked me to his truck and graciously gave me a few minutes to meet Driver. When Driver launched out of his kennel, I was awed at his size. My eyes were used to a dog half his size under foot, not this mature muscular dog that minded.
After looping around the gravel driveway, then obeying the commands he was given, he came over to me; his black fur shining as it caught the sun. The base of Driver's neck had the same wavy fur as Bailey and while it's silly, I could see a resemblance in father and daughter. I got closer, took a knee to give Driver some lovies, and discovered he was a cuddly 'ole boy. It struck me at a very emotional level that I was now the keeper of his little one, and as I held Driver's face in my palms and pet his strong face, I looked him softly in the eyes and gave him my silent pledge that I would take care of his girl.
Daylight was burning and this dog had work to do, so we parted. Bailey's mom, Kate, ran that same day and successfully earned her next title, so I left feeling excited that Bailey was sired from good hunting stock and with hope that Bailey would follow in their paw prints.
Arriving late was fall, but the crispness in the air and harvest colors all around were a welcomed sight. It awakened the hunting season for waterfowl, small and upland game hunting, which would all soon begin in earnest and lead us into the deer season. Bailey and I took to the woods together to chase grouse and pheasant. Ready to roll with me whenever I grabbed her blaze collar, my "hunt ‘em ups" were met with her unending energy to bound through the prairie grasses in her zigzag hunt and to heel when I needed her close by.
Unflinching, she bobbed through the thickest tangle of ground cover without hesitation, because I asked her to. Having hunted over dogs, I knew what an important element they added to the hunt, but hearing my Bailey's thundering gallop come up behind me, her thrashing and breath strong as she danced and leaped through the dried fall fields behind, next to, in front of and beside me again, was sheer joy. She would look to me, wet, breathless for direction and encouragement. But did she know how she encouraged me? Witnessing the native and instinctual ability dogs have to hunt, point, and retrieve, I feel that moving forward, successful harvests for me will depend on whether I can focus on my quarry and not my puppy.
With winter's arrival ends our first four seasons with Bailey gracing our family and the story we create together. My four-legged hunting partner now joins me as I traverse the winter landscape in hope of a flush or in the reflection next to me as we peer down the same ice column, hoping for a bite. There are times as I look at the cloud-like batting puffing out of the hole in my comforter or realize that the rectangular shape on the living room carpet is actually a stick of butter she's stolen and is trying to hork down before she's busted, that I remember the pre-Bailey days. I don't miss those days. Listening to my kids belly laugh when Bailey won't stop licking them or watching husband tear through the yard chasing Bay in an attempt to retrieve his favorite boot...these are moments of joy.
Are these the hectic responsibility-intensive moments of dog ownership that I was evading? I take my lumps, field and accept every "I told you so" that comes my way and have learned that welcoming a dog into your family and home is more than what can simply be considered "responsibility." Bailey has woven herself within the seasons of our lives, and we are more complete because of her.