Pee Wee's First Time in the Bush

My son rescued him off the street. He and some of his coworkers-- at the time he worked for the Greenwood Leflore Public Library-- took him to the vet, got his shots, and then he took him home. He called me crying. "Dad, can you take this dog?" His other babies weren't speaking to him. It wasn't working out. "I can't put him back on the street."

So I took the twenty-five pound mutt to West Monroe Avenue where this little fireball of fur took over the back yard and in short order, my heart also.

That was February. In March, I started taking him and Bear, our other outside dog, with me to the fishponds where I train for my charity swim. On the very first trip, I realized I had something special. His energy, speed, drive, and hunting instincts were evident from the moment I let him out of the truck to run the final miles to my swimming hole instead of riding. This quickly became a ritual he loved. He can run 25 miles per hour. He loves to run that fast. He barks at birds. He hunts the pond levees while I swim. If I make five trips around, so does he. While I swim he slips off from time to time to sniff out a ditch, but he always returns to check in with me.

On the trips to and from the pond, he barks incessantly. That's a little annoying, but the energy he displays both amuses and impresses me. For me at least. Bear will curl up on the front seat and look at me like, "Make him stop, please." Pee Wee wants out. He wants to run. He wants to bite something.

In the back yard, he is the king of his domain. His eyes are everywhere seeing everything, especially the squirrels that go up and down the big pecan tree next door. He barks, he whines, and when they get into the yard, he gives chase. I have found dead ones in the grass.

I took him to the hills Saturday. I wanted to watch him in the woods, and I wanted to shoot a .22 rifle around him. He didn't pay any attention to the rifle. He hunted like a bird dog only better. I learned something about him. He likes to go to my left and make a big circle eventually coming up behind me. He ran a lot. He sniffed. Once he bolted at something and he barked once. Probably a deer.

He did tree. He didn't bark, but he treed. The barking will come later. He is raw. He has the stuff, but he needs to be hunted until he knows what we are after and how the game works. He hunted and hunted and hunted. He made my heart happy. When we got in the truck and took the long way around by the church and home, he desperately wanted out, back into the thick of things. Next week, I plan to buy a pair of Red Wing boots and begin to wear them out. If he can make a hunter, we will do it together. if Not, we will have fun trying. Together.