A short life, but a merry one.
The first time I ever saw Tully was a couple days after my wife and son had picked him up from the breeder. I had been in Argentina when he was due to be brought home. He had an eyelid pretty much torn off and a toenail torn out by the roots. Apparently he didn't care for being alone in a kennel. He never spent a night in my kennel after that. What a burden to the family that was, a big, rough, outdoor dog living in the house. A nuisance at times, but it led to an even closer attachment to him than my other dogs. At times, I felt Tully was not completely sane. Making the same mistake over and over again, and somehow expecting a different outcome? But, other times, he seemed to be telepathically connected to me. Anticipating my every move. Every second of his life he was ready to do whatever I did. With me step for step for almost 9 years. Slept either on my bed or the floor beside my bed. Laid on the floor outside my bathroom when I was in there. With me every step. When I went to work it was a terrible separation period for him. Heaven forbid that I would go off for a week long deer hunt, or guided duck hunt where he couldn't go along. It was amazing, and not always in a good way. Sometimes everybody needs a little space. Tully didn't though. He wanted, no, needed my company. Big and strong and fearless, but yet he needed me to be close by for reassurance.
As far as his retrieving skills, he was top notch. Very fast in the water. Tremendous marking ability. Maybe a bit antsy in the blind, waiting for the next shot, but very good at what he did. First dog I have ever had that never lost a duck. How many hunters can say they went 9 years without losing a single crippled duck? Only those of us lucky enough to have been in the blind with Tully.
He lived all his life at a high rate of speed. Always excited, always ready for anything and everything. I feared that he would burn out and die young, just due to the way he sped through life. Injuries accumulated over the years. So he limped throughout the off season, but never missed a hunting day. Suddenly, in October of last year he became ill. Numerous trips to the Vet revealed that he had a periodontal disease referred to as CUPS. A very serious, life threatening disease. The doctors did the best they could. He lived through the hunting season. But during a surgical procedure to remove some more infected teeth, the Vet found that the disease had spread into the bone. He came home to be with me for a little while longer, and actually seemed to be doing pretty well, despite the pain. Suddenly, a couple nights ago he became violently ill and that was the end.
No way, no how, could I begin to explain the current void in my life. Maybe I needed him more than he needed me. He was smart enough to realize it, so he devoted his life to keeping me company. Now he's gone, and I am alone for the first time in nearly 9 years that he looked over me. I truly don't know what to do. Tully boy, I'll never get over you.
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