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Father's Day

by Mark Betts :: Featured: February, 2003

A few years ago my family and I were on our way to visit my dad for fathers day, after what seemed to be the never-ending game of 20 questions, I spy, and boy band music, we came upon a very sharp turn in the road where you could not see. While slowing down and preparing for this 90-degree turn everyone in my truck yells STOP!!! pretty much at the same time. So I check my rear view mirror and slam on the breaks. I must admit, I was a little more than perturbed by this until my son tells me there's a beagle laying along the side of the road.

I found a spot to pull over, get out, and I walk up to this travesty. It seems to have no life left in it, its pads on his paws are worn down to nothing, mange seems apparent and obviously hit by a vehicle. As I am choking back a tear, I noticed a flicker of his eye. I attempted to pick him up to seek medical treatment and with what seemed his last bit of strength he hopped up and tried to run. As many times as I attempted to help, he would just run a bit further away. At this point I am perplexed on how I am going to help to little guy.

After about ten minutes, I figured I was doing more harm than good, so I whistled for my son to get out of the truck to see if maybe he would have better luck. My son, six years old walks across this country road, knelt down and with all the pride that a parent could muster I watched and listened to my boy call this injured animal, "come here boy, come here, that's a good boy." This dog looks at me and wobbles to my sons arms and he says "I got 'em daddy, lets get 'em some help" and into the truck they went. Well once the astonishment of this action had passed, I hopped in the truck and turn that truck around and headed to a town we passed a few miles back hoping for a vet that was home.

Town by town we stopped and not one vet was home and before I knew we were home. I called my vet who was also not at home. I am pretty much frustrated with the entire veterinary community about this time, so I washed him up, gave!em a good look over, covered his paws with an ointment, wrapped!em with gauze, treated a few other abrasions and dried'em off. We set him in a cage that I use for pups training, put a little milk and some food and monitored him through the night.

Somewhere about 3:00 a.m. I am awoken to a ruckus that darn near made me think we had the clumsiest robbers known to mankind but sure enough it was the beagle, for hours there were no noise or real signs that he was gonna make it through the night, but this noise, BANG...BANG....BANG, this little guys tail was wagging and hitting the bottom of the cage. I assisted him in his feeding and drinking, after a bowl of food and a bowl of milk his belly seemed as if he was gonna explode. But I was happy to see that.

The following morning he and I repeated our middle of the night feeding. Then I was off to find his owners. I hit every town, every farmhouse and anyone I could find out and about for 15 miles in each direction of where we found him with no avail. Back home I went to have him seen by the vet. Lots of bruising and severe malnutrition was found, but the doc said it didn't seem to be from a car accident, he said it seems this dog had been abused, beaten, and starved then left for dead. Well if you don't think I wanted to find the owner before, you can't bet a shiny new silver dollar that I wanted to find them now, but for a whole different reason, if you know what I mean.

With antibiotics and a lot of TLC, in a few weeks this little guy was on his way to a full recovery.

Once Duke, as he became called, had completed a full recovery, I decided to take him for a walk up. Duke showed every trait that a beagler looks for in a hunting companion, head down, tail straight up high, working side to side as if he was looking for something. Now no, he it didn't take off running a rabbit, but he did show a lot of interest, so I figured I would take a chance and take him out with one of my younger dogs who had just started running himself, Duke was too afraid of his own shadow, let alone another full-grown dog so I daren't put him with a seasoned runner, but he tolerated the pups jumping and excitement until we reached the starter pen. The pup took to a few steps in and no more playing, the pup started to go to work. Within a few minutes out comes the arooooooooo, aroooooooo of the young one, well I thought that would darn near scared the be Jesus out of Duke, but this had him puzzled, so off to investigate he went and each time the pup let loose, Duke startled a bit but stayed right with the pup, within a few minutes I praised the pup and Duke saw this and back to work he went, within a minute AROOOOOOOO, one of the deepest voices I have heard come out of this little body, but he wasn't running a rabbit, I could tell because after each howl, he would look at me as if awaiting praise, so after having quite a chuckle I gave in and praised away I did. We played this game regularly for the entire summer until one day, while Duke was running with the same pup who no longer needed to be in the starter pen, Duke let out a whale of a howl, so much that I believe he scared himself, and yes, this time it was a rabbit, he ran it for a bit then seemed very frustrated that he couldn't find the culprit of this aroma, back and forth, sniff en and a snort en to no luck. Hah, there was a hunter in him after all.

That fall he and that pup ran bunnies all winter with many successful hunts.  So what started out as a visit with present in hand for my father, I received the greatest present of them all, a new hunting buddy, what could be better. But I must ask all who encounter Duke not to mention that old adage, you know the one, "can't teach an old dog new tricks," I wouldn't want him to be offended.