My First Dog

Growing up I always wanted a dog. The desire was so strong I would drag every stray dog I could find home, to beg my parents to let me keep him, but it never worked out. My parents were good at finding the dog’s owner.

While I was still in the 8th grade we moved from a suburb in a large city to a small town. It was not something I enjoyed and only got worse when we moved out to the country. My parents thought it was heaven. I had another word for it, for there wasn't another kid around for miles.

Shortly afterwards my Dad showed up with a black ball of fur that was all paws. A puppy just for me, but not just any mutt like I had been bringing home, a real hunting dog. A Labrador. Suddenly my hell had turned to heaven in an instant, for not only did I have a hunting dog of my own, but I could go hunting right out our back door.

Then my Dad let the other boot drop as they say. Not only had he brought home a Lab puppy, but he also brought home a German Shepherd puppy. I went from a life of broken emptiness, to complete fullness. I had the best of both worlds, a hunting dog, and a guard dog.

Dad named the German Shepherd “Jack” for some unknown reason, and I named the Lab “Hoss” after my favorite character on Bonanza, for if his paws were any indication, he was going to be a big boy.

The summer flew by with the pups growing by leaps and bounds. When Fall finally arrived it was time to go hunting. Realistically it was too early to expect anything from the pups, but Dad was just as anxious to go with the dogs as I was. Then the disappointment and the surprise.

Hoss had no desire to hunt. He was just content to walk behind us and follow happily along. Jack on the other hand was a natural hunter. He worked the fields at just the right distance in front of us, and scared up many pheasants. I can’t say how well he retrieved because we actually never knocked a bird down, but that’s another story.

My day dreams of hunting with Hoss after school were shattered, but I consulted myself with Jack and how cool it was to have a guard dog and a hunting dog all in one.

That dream was also shattered a week later when we went to town with the dogs, and Jack was stolen out of the back of the pickup. The irony of a guard dog being stolen wasn't lost on me.

Christmas brought a boy without a driver’s license the best gift he could ask for, an old dirt bike. A dog just didn’t seem that great any more, especially since all he had shown he was good at was eating, and putting his face in your lap, wanting to be petted just after he got a drink of water. Don't get me wrong, he was still my best friend, but I had been given keys to the world. Hoss was just going to have to wait at home.

Hoss taught me otherwise when the weather cleared. I tried for a half hour to get Hoss to mind and stay home. For some reason my normally well behaved dog wouldn’t mind. I finally had to tie him to a tree, which lasted until I got to the end of the driveway. He had grown into his name, and broke his collar.

I gunned the bike to show him he couldn’t keep up, but he just kept coming. My timid, lazy dog was running faster than I thought possible, and with a heart unwilling to quit. Hoss followed me all summer long, and by fall was looking like Schwarzenegger in his prime.

One day as we were riding/running across a freshly disc field, Hoss just stopped, making a perfect statue. I watched him as I turned the bike around. Suddenly he jumped, and started to dig. By the time I reached him, he was done and playing with his prize, a burrowing rat, a gopher. I watched him for a couple of minutes while he played with it, then he gave it a good shake, killing it, and laid it at my feet with great pride in his eyes. This became almost a daily routine until he got the gopher population thinned down. What amazed me was there was never any evidence of a gopher digging in the area.

By Pheasant season he was a changed dog. I had a great hunting dog, whom had never been trained. One time we were out hunting, but all he would scare up were hens, which we're not allowed to shoot. He would get so excited waiting for me to shoot it, and each time I didn’t he would give me a disgusted look, saying he had done his job, why wasn’t I doing mine?

He sulked all the way home, and he still had a disgusted look on his face as I went into the house to make a sandwich. When I came out of the house with sandwich in hand, I found him sitting and waiting for me with a hen laying in front of him, as if to show me what I was suppose to shoot.

We got another surprise we found hard to believe at first, but there were just too many comments for different people to deny it. Hoss was a great guard dog. Even though he hardly ever got up from his corner when someone came over, and I don’t think I ever heard him bark, ever, he was quite different when we were gone. I guess he put on such a show with growling and barking, even long time friends he knew wouldn’t get out of their cars.

Hoss even melted Mom’s heart. For her pets were O.K., but there place was outside, not in her neat as a pin home. I’m not sure how it happened, but Hoss went from sleeping in the heated shop, to being in the house all of the time. She also made sure he had a full bowl of food, and plenty of table scraps. Surprisingly he never got fat.

I cried when I thought I had lost him when he ran out across the road in front of a small car doing 45 mph. I watched all four tires of the car come off the ground as it went over him. In a blink of an eye he was running to me with only a small patch of fur missing and both of us scared to death. He never ran out into the road again.

By the time I graduated and was going off to college, it was clear he wouldn’t be coming with me, for he was no longer my dog, but the family dog, and his place was at home.

Unfortunately time catches up with us all, even a dog able to take on a Volkswagen. He had slowed down considerably when he hit ten years old, but his eyes were as bright as ever, and we helped him out with different herbs and supplements to combat his arthritis. His hunting days were done, but his value wasn’t diminished to anyone. He had long earned a rest, and a comfortable retirement.

The joy and brightness in his eyes slowly left as the cancer got worse each week and when he couldn’t get up any more, Dad took him to be put to sleep. He was thirteen years old, and everyone cried for the loss of Hoss. I’ve had a couple of great dogs since then, but my first Best Friend has a place in my heart, and is still missed.

The Dislikable Health Bill

I often wonder what people are thinking when they do something. Yesterday I witnessed a person pull out onto the road, skipping the right lane completely to get into the left lane, effectively blocking another person who was trying to merge from the center media. Then after only a 100 yards, pulled back into the right lane to make a turn. Why did this person do this? Was it a tired truck driver who forgot for a moment they were driving a Honda?

I wonder about the people we elected to represent us. Last week a historic Bill was passed by a very narrow margin effectively splitting our country in two. In theory it is suppose to provide health care to everyone. In theory. A theory I don't think anyone is against.

We could debate until hell freezes over on the individual things in the Bill we like or don't like, but I think it missed the main point of why so many people, myself included, don't like this Bill. For something so historically important as this Bill, why was it rushed through? Why the late night session, and sessions on Sunday? It was like everyone had "CAR FEVER". Got to buy it now, for they only have one red car left, and they won't make any more. Yeah, right.

Our Media wasn't much different than a bunch of High School teens, going "He said, She said". You would have thought with around 500 pages in the Bill, you could find something else to report besides the Left and Right fighting like toddlers. I remember a time when Journalist were thought of in high regards, even noble. Reporting only the facts, leaving the theory and gossip to the tabloids. Now we have 90% opinions/egos and only 10% facts at best. It's like they don't think we can come up with an opinion of our own, and if we do, it won't be the right one.

Unfortunately as much as I would like to blame others, I am just as guilty of dropping the ball as they are. In this day of information, I could have looked up the Bill myself and gotten my own answers, but I didn't. I could argue I didn't have enough time, but only if I had been trying to find things out. Instead I buried my head in the sand, and relied on others (News Media and Politicians) to get me the information.

So now what do we do? Move to the Outback of Australia, bury our heads and hope people will leave us alone? As much as I would like to see Australia, I refuse to bury my head anymore. I will get myself informed, and do my best to get myself politely heard in a civilized fashion. I will NOT let others steal my joy by sucking me into their dramas, for I am truly a wealthy man. I have a wonderful family who I can fully depend on for anything, and God who loves me!

The question is, are you wealthy? Do you have someone whom you completely trust? God? If not, I suggest you forget about this Health Bill, for if you have no one, you will never have health/wealth. Remember none of us are perfect. The key is to except others completely for who they are, and to be honest, truly showing yourself, so they can completely except you.