The Hunting Dog

"Tranum, I durn near killed that hunting dog you sold me!" Daddy pushed his chair back until it rested on the back legs with the backrest against the porch railing. He chewed a straw that he occasionally took out of his mouth and jabbed in the air to punctuate a sentence.

Uncle Tranum reddened at what he figured was an insult against the pups he raised. But, being slow to anger, he decided to get to the bottom of Daddy's story.

"Now, Broughton, that dog's as good as any you'll find anywhere. Why would you want to hurt it?"

"Well, I decided a few weeks ago to step up his training, so I took him on his first hunting trip. Me and Wilson went back on Dodd's farm, looking for quail. Rebel, my dog, seemed like he was real anxious to get started and almost as soon as he got out of the car, he was off and sniffing for the birds. I couldn't help but brag to Wilson that Rebel would probably be one of the top hunting dogs in Alabama by the time I was through training him."

"He sounds to me like he was right on the spot with his training. So what's the problem?" Uncle Tranum's face was calm, but from my spot under the tree where I played with my dolls, I could see the muscles twitching in his jaw.

"I'm getting to it." Daddy leaned forward to pick up his iced tea and take a swallow before continuing. "All of a sudden that dog came to a perfect point. It was the prettiest thing I've ever seen in a hunting dog. Tail straight forming a perfect line up his body to his nose. I pointed it out to Wilson before telling the dog to flush the birds. He was impressed, too. Suddenly, without the dog moving an inch, a bird flew up and I bagged it. I gave the order to Rebel to retrieve. He didn't move! That dog did not take one step. I figured since we were a pretty good distance behind him, he hadn't heard me, so I gave the command louder. He held the perfect point, but refused to budge! Another bird took to the air. Wilson brought it down. I ordered Rebel to retrieve, but he continued to stand where he was. "

"Now that don't sound right, Broughton. He comes from champion stock! You sure you trained him right? Were you rushing him? No, by now he should be more than ready. What happened?" Uncle Tranum wasn't the only one paying close attention. Aunt Olene had forgotten her bean shelling and was riveted on the conversation.

"Why, Mary, do you hear that? I believe those two might start fighting!" She turned to Mama, who seemed completely calm about the escalating conversation.

"I wouldn't worry, Olene. They're big boys." Mama continued shelling the beans, but Aunt Olene couldn't tear herself away from Daddy and Uncle Tranum.

"I screamed at that hound to go forward and flush the birds. He never so much as moved a muscle! I might as well have been mute for all the good ordering him did. Wilson was howling with laughter over my champion dog. It was a toss up which one I'd whup first him or the animal!. I stomped up to the beast and just before I reached him, another bird flew up! I raised my gun, but Wilson was quicker. 'Rebel, FETCH!' I ordered. That miserable dog stood his ground, refusing to pick up even one of the birds we shot. I was bound and determined he would pick them up, if I had to stuff them into his mouth myself! I decided when we got home that sad excuse for a hunting dog would be going to the pound."

"Now, Broughton, you could have brought him back to me. I would have given your money back." Uncle Tranum's complexion deepened, headed from red to purple. I was getting worried about him, but Daddy seemed not to notice.

"Well, that didn't occur to me at the time, Tranum. I just wanted to get rid of that dog! Wilson was almost convulsed with laughter by this time. I don't think he could have aimed at another bird, if his life depended on it. I got to Rebel fully intending to knock him off his feet if necessary to get him to move. That's when I saw it. It was so amazing, I almost sat right down on the spot! That dog had his foot over a hole in the ground. Just as I reached him, he lifted his foot just enough to let another bird fly away!"

Uncle Tranum came real close to knocking Daddy's chair over when he realized he had been the butt of one of Daddy's tall tales. Aunt Olene wasn't quite so fast to pick up on it.

"Why, Broughton, that's a smart dog! Tranum, did any of the other pups learn to do that? Broughton, you ought to write the papers about Rebel!"

"Olene," Mama said, quietly, "Broughton was putting one over on Tranum. The dog can't really do that."

Everybody broke up laughing and for this little girl, it sure was a relief to see.