Originally Posted by slave
Well, I thought maybe one last duck shoot was in the pooch.
Alas, I was too optimistic.
Dark. Wet. Windy. Perfect.
She was hacking on the way to the blind.
Tough walking in mud....she keeled over.
I thought that was it.......and hated my selfish self.
She lay there for a minute and kinda recovered.
We were nearly there, so I got her to the blind.
She was excited..........then the flight started.
She was alert and trembling as ducks circled and came in.
She would turn and look at me when they would land and nothing happened.
I knew by then that there would be no shooting today.
It was over........her last hunt had arrived.
I had known it was close.
It was closer than that.

We made it back to the rig slowly, stopping now and then, so she could rest. She needed a little help to get into the front of my truck.

Whiskey..........


Reading that is about as tough as watching Old Yeller again. Feeling your pain.