Of Old Dogs and Men
By H. “Bumper” Bauer
Last evening I was sitting in my favorite chair reading a book when I noticed my Golden Retriever Murphy stretched out on the couch obviously immersed in one heck of a dream. The edge of his now white muzzle was twitching and his paws were flicking up and down as if involved in a great chase. He was clearly enjoying whatever it was that he was dreaming about and every once in a while the very end of his tail would twitch just a bit and he would emit a low bubbling little howl.
Watching his actions got me to thinking about how much we were truly alike he and I, both of us now remembering our best hunts in our dreams.
Throughout our many years together we have enjoyed the pursuit of game. We had loved nothing better than being in grapevine shrouded thickets or endless fields of corn on a frosty fall morning, Murphy looking for a scent to follow and I loving everything God had sent. I, immersed in the vibrant colors of the leaves, the musky wine like scent of the woods and the soft crunch of frost covered leaves as I walk behind my dog that’s dancing out in front of me.
Then comes the unexpected surprises, a sudden cackle or whirr of wings as a pheasant or grouse suddenly take to the sky. That extraordinary moment in time we both instantly reacted to by shifting into actions bred into us by years of hunting together. My part the shot and kill, his the retrieve but both accomplished without thinking in well-tuned harmony.
As I settled back into my chair Murphy opened his eyes in a half dream state glanced at me for a split second then closed them returning to his special place to continue his dream. The instant I saw the way his deep brown eyes were looking at me I remembered I had seen that identical look in someone else’s eyes long ago. That instant feeling and recognition of a companion or loved one, which conveys a message that everything, is ok. I had seen that look in the eyes of my Grandfather when I visited him just prior to his passing. When I arrived at the farm that morning Pap was upstairs in a little room at the side of the house that he now used for a den and bedroom due to failing health. He chose the room because it was filled with windows and he could sit in his rocking chair and look out on the farm where he had lived and worked for over fifty years.
Pap was absorbed in cleaning his old, A.H. Fox 16ga. side by side which I knew he had not used in many years. As I neared the doorway I noticed he seemed to have a far away look in his eyes and wondered if he perhaps were reliving a unique moment from his past, perhaps a special day when he had used that shotgun. I stood silently as he lifted the stock of the rifle to his weathered cheek and sighted down its barrels toward a target known only to him. I wondered what he was thinking at that moment.
He lowered the gun , then slowly and meticulously began rubbing a coat of fine linseed oil into it’s stock with a piece of tattered chamois cloth that certainly had seen as many days as him. I was taken aback somewhat by the gentle almost loving manner in which he did it. With every stoke of the cloth I felt he was being taken further and further back to his past when he was young and had the ability to run his beloved fields and mountains of Pennsylvania endlessly.
As I stepped slowly into the room Tillie, Pap’s old beagle and constant companion lifted her head from the floor where she had been sleeping next to his rocking chair. Both acknowledged my arrival at the same instant, Pap with a broad smile and Tillie with a slight wag of her tail and a muted groan. They both had that look in their eyes, they had instantly recognized someone loved and trusted.
Someone once said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. I am a firm believer of that statement. I have seen the theory demonstrated countless times during my thirty-year career as a Law Enforcement officer and learned to trust it. It has served me well. Watching a persons or animal’s eyes in most cases will give one a good indication as to what they are thinking or what their next move may be.
Pap always said dogs had more sense than humans and I have to say at this point in my life I have to agree with him. A dog asks for little more than a warm bed, food to eat, clean water to drink and an occasional pat on the head. Astoundingly, is what they give in return. Unquestioning love and devotion.
I believe a man who has reached the autumn of his life is much like an old dog. He does not require or ask more, a little love and attention is the one thing that makes both most happy. A simple pat on the head for the dog and someone’s lending a willing ear to the man in most cases is enough to make his day.
Much can and will be learned from both by the young among us if they take the time and care enough to watch and listen. The old dog and old man have in their time learned to hunt and outfox thru experience the most cunning of game. Any good breeder or trainer of dogs will be the first to tell you when you put a young pup you wish to train with an older experienced dog they will quickly learn from it cutting the training time in half. It’s not much different with an old man and a young man. If a young man is perceptive enough to listen to what that old guy has to say and learn from his experiences he too will become a better hunter in half the time.
The dog and the man both have learned from years of practice in the field and through trial and error what will work and what will not. Don’t sidestep either of them or take them for granted for there is a wealth of knowledge to be gained from both of them.
Do it now before you wake up one day and hear yourself saying I wish I would have or should have! I can’t count the number of times since Pap’s passing that without thinking I reach for the phone to tell him about something good that has happened or ask his advice about a problem. How many times have you ever told your aging dog, your best buddy, to “scat” when he was bothersome?
There will come a day all too soon you will wish he were there again being a pest. Nothing would make me feel any better than to be able to scratch those velvet ears of my long gone beagle Mike just one more time. But he’s gone now, as is Pap.
Yes, were much alike my old dog and I and I, wouldn’t have it any other way.
Hunt Hard, Hunt Safe and Hunt Fair
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H. “Bumper” Bauer is a Pro Staff member of McLaughlin Game Call Company of Reynoldsville Pa. and Pennsylvania Back Country TV.
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