We have had the pleasure of sharing lives with a few "brown dogs" in our time and love them all. This friend was especially, well special. He was born at our house, part of a long line of successful bird dogs and a superb personality. He's the closest thing I've had to "owning" a dog (if one can "own" something and consider it an equal at the same time) since my dad has let each of us kids cosign the AKC paperwork for one of our family dogs. He could perform "deep and wide" better than most Sunday schoolers. He never complained when it was his turn to take up guard of the picture window. He would oblige you with a grunt conversation when you scratched the inverted hairline in front of his ears. Like a comedian who breaks character, he would scrunchie up his lips when he knew you were laughing with him. He was the most gentile pet but the most serious hunter. He took his job seriously, but not himself. He was fast and smart and always willing to bring the stick back if you cajoled him. He was flexible and patient. He outgrew the chewing part of puppyhood, but never gave up his puppy-like spirit. An optimist and excellent team-player to the end,
Mr. Wacka
Wacka Tin Tin,
Silhouette
Bat Faced Mangy Butt,
The Buddy,
Rocka-billy,
Rock,
Rocky,
You are already missed like a fat kid misses his best puppy friend.
