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Reminiscing About Dogs


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No rugby this afternoon so I am at a loose end. I got to thinking about past dogs, the good, the bad and the downright ugly ones. It is surprising how far back I can remember, now if that memory is a true reflection of what happened is open to debate, but I believe thats what happened so it makes no difference really, it is only my self I have to please after all.

 

Was never one for photo's I would take the odd one but that was it. Funnily enough some of the most memorable moments no picture could do justice to, like the morning we pulled up outside the café where we used to meet after a nights lamping and my mate and my self had a potato sack full of rabbits only to tip them out and one get up and run away with the dog in full flight after it.

 

Or the night where an experienced dog who's catch rate was in the high 90% only caught one rabbit from about 20 courses and he was not ill at all. I am sure I can re-live each and every course in my mind and I still can't work out what happened that night.

 

A hunting life fills you with memories of the past, cherish those memories and try to remember them as often as possible, because they will tell you far more than any photo can. When I look back at past dogs I feel a mixture of emotions, sadness for the ones that went before their time, a sense of pride for the ones that done their best for you until they were no longer able, then you done your best for them. But most of all I feel blessed that I have spent my time for the last 50 odd years with friends that could not speak and were eager to please me with no thought of reward other than a pat on the head.

 

TC

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My earliest memory of a dog (non hunting dog) was my dads big old collie Meg . Its a sad story but its the earliest and most profound memory i have of a dog . My dad was down the pub and me and my brother were in the living room with my mum playing as little kids when we heard a massive thud outside . My mum shouted at us to stay put and ran outside and meg had managed to get out of the garden and wander on to the road outside . She was very old at the time . I remember my mum being outside for what seemed like a age and me and my brother were worried but my mum burst into the house with blood on her hands in a fluster shouting again at us to stay inside and not go outside . I remember asking what was happening and my mum saying " Megs gone on to the f***ing road and been knocked over" as a kid it was probably the first time i heard my mum swear as she usually wont swear . My brother was freaked about the blood on her hands . I remember her going to the house phone and phoning the pub and shouting at my dad to get back to the house , He got back and i remember him bursting through the door and straight past us and out into the garden and stayed there for ages . When he got back in he was quiet as a mouse (as he is when a dog dies) and sat in his seat and rolled a smoke and sat there smoking with head in hands . My mum took us to bed and explained about life and death and how meg had died from being knocked over . It was the first time id ever encountered death of anything meaningfull to me and i remember a sense of wanting to cry but not cry and a weird feeling of numbness but still tingling . Its weird , im 32 now and i must have been 7 or 8 at the time but i can remember it like yesterday . That day i realised that things will eventually die and i grew up a bit that day . Like tiercel saud maybe time has mixed my mind but those are what i remember about that night . It sucked massivly . Next morning her bed and everything about her was out the house when i got up and her collar was hanging from a nail by his seat and my dad said " Megs buried down the garden , dont knock over her grave with a football" . Hed dug and buried her and put a little cross up . Sad times but defining for me . Hope i havnt lowered the mood

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met a bloke ten years back we got talking i didnt remember his face but the name rang a bell. i had been out with him about 12-13 years previous to that which made me about 14 years old i could remember his dogs name and what breed it was and even its colour but i be f****d if i could remember the blokes face. being out with dogs can leave some lasting memories thats for sure.

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Enjoyable reading :thumbs: Memories are great and to be honest I wish I had taken pictures back then just to see the old dogs again.

Some things are as clear as day though. My little jack russel seeing his first ever rabbit rabbit as a pup. His ears going up at the rumbling and his surprise when a rabbit flew out under his nose. Couple of days later he gave his first mark in the bracken and from that day the ferret never went in with out his say so.

My lurcher tom at two years old and i took him to work one morning extra early ;) and sent him off at a hare i spotted 2 fields away. He went straight as an arrow to it and had good run but lost it. Then had return through a flock of sheep and he had never really been around them at but didn't even look at them.

Finding my nans beddy whippet that ran off. I went to some fields a few mile away had quick shine around then flashed it at my feet. Put it back on and two eyes coming straight at me. Bit of luck that was.

Also of course the sad times

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i maintain i wish i had took a lot more pics of the dogs ive had. i do have pics of all of them but as you say the memories will always be there.i was rooting through a cuboard the other day and came across a old pic of a beardy cross i had brought back memories of a day in cumbria a long time ago the dog was on fire that day. :thumbs:

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Some great storys of memory's there.

But the main part i cannot get my head around and have thought of it many a time.

Is considering the brain is practically meat.

How the hell are memory's stored in there.

Amazing really.

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Some great storys of memory's there.

But the main part i cannot get my head around and have thought of it many a time.

Is considering the brain is practically meat.

How the hell are memory's stored in there.

Amazing really.

 

good point about the brain and i spent 5 seconds thinking about it then it hurt so i stopped . Almost as if my brain was a burly doorman not allowing me access to its secrets inside

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Some great storys of memory's there.

But the main part i cannot get my head around and have thought of it many a time.

Is considering the brain is practically meat.

How the hell are memory's stored in there.

Amazing really.

 

Your brain's 75% water, so logically a glass of water should be able to remember stuff too.

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No rugby this afternoon so I am at a loose end. I got to thinking about past dogs, the good, the bad and the downright ugly ones. It is surprising how far back I can remember, now if that memory is a true reflection of what happened is open to debate, but I believe thats what happened so it makes no difference really, it is only my self I have to please after all.

 

Was never one for photo's I would take the odd one but that was it. Funnily enough some of the most memorable moments no picture could do justice to, like the morning we pulled up outside the café where we used to meet after a nights lamping and my mate and my self had a potato sack full of rabbits only to tip them out and one get up and run away with the dog in full flight after it.

 

Or the night where an experienced dog who's catch rate was in the high 90% only caught one rabbit from about 20 courses and he was not ill at all. I am sure I can re-live each and every course in my mind and I still can't work out what happened that night.

 

A hunting life fills you with memories of the past, cherish those memories and try to remember them as often as possible, because they will tell you far more than any photo can. When I look back at past dogs I feel a mixture of emotions, sadness for the ones that went before their time, a sense of pride for the ones that done their best for you until they were no longer able, then you done your best for them. But most of all I feel blessed that I have spent my time for the last 50 odd years with friends that could not speak and were eager to please me with no thought of reward other than a pat on the head.

 

TC

i'll raise a glass to that matey..memories eh..

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Enjoyable read tc my earliest were of my first lurcher I had was 10 when prince was given to me a d\h \g \c\g aged 12months he was my first lurcher we went everywhere together we did the lot ferreting railway lines fields hedgerows back then I had no worry's being a kid about being caught I only wanted to catch and prince did me proud but his one fault was he open up when things didn't go his way anyway the old man was well known for digging always said a dog either a sleeper or akeeper took him out prince never came home after running a hare the oldman said after I asked were prince was he's gone that was it a week later I got smokey beddy whip best bunny dog I ever had later in life I had some half decent mutts but I always think about prince and his and my first ever catch

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The memories is what it's all about and the dogs before done there bit,,, but I've got to be honest I'm a photo man as with a decent phone, the things I've got on my phone in pics and vids what my two in avatar have got up two when playing is special to me as in august I lost rio my brindle, so to enjoy what they done is special, when you've lost that moment it's gone, my vids always on just in case, if Nowt happens then he ho.

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I remember the first dog i had i was 9 it was a border terrier.

Nasty fecking thing.called it puma lol.

We were over the slag tip 1 day and the dog was having a shit for about 5 mins.

I was watching the dog about 40yds away thinking why is the dog taking so long.

I called him and as he ran to me a piece of shit was following him bouncing along.

He stopped by my side and I could see a piece of carpet thread hanging from his arse

About 2ft long.

I could see a bobble every 2" on the thread so knew it was from the carpet.

I stood on the thread and threw a stone and as the dog ran after the stone

A lengh of about 6ft came flying out of the dogs arse lol.

When the dog turned about 1yr old my gran.grandfather or me couldn't even touch the dog

It would try and take your hand off.after a loud growl.

Horrible nasty fecker he was.

The only time I could touch it was when it died from.

What I think was a broken heart.

3 months after both my grandparents died.

And I had a council house.

Dog just faded away 1 evening.

Remember standing in the garden in pissing down rain in the dark digging a hole for him.

The nasty fecker.

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