“Where The Red Ferns Grow”, Or Winston, Blue, Charley and Me.

 

May the Lord God ISUA bless us with enough this day.

Last night after dinner and before I call Theresa I watch the end of a movie on TV, no more that 15 minutes, that made me cry like a baby. I do not ever want to watch the whole movie. It was called “Where The Red Ferns Grow”, it is a story about this old man recalling the two hound dogs that he had as a young boy. He had saved his money, bought them, trained them to hunt Coons, and fallen deeply in love with them.

The part where I tuned in on is when he out on his last coon hunt. It was late at night when his dogs treed a Coon that had gone up a tree where a Panther had decided to take refuge. When the Panther jumped down out of the tree the dogs did what dogs do and got very aggressive with the Mountain Lion. In the resulting altercation, one of the dogs got killed just before it hightailed it out of Dodge with the other dog on its heels.

The dog did not catch the lion and came home, but it was so heartbroken from the lose of its partner that it would not eat. Just before he died he went up to where the other dog was buried to lay down and give up the ghost right beside the grave. They made the dog a burial box and put him in the ground right behind the other dog that he had loved so much.

Circumstances had conspired to force the family to move to another part of the world. Just before they left for parts unknown the boy went to his beloved dogs’ graves to say goodbye. When he saw the graves he turned and ran back and had his family come back with him to look at the graves which had been covered with Red Ferns.

My tears, and I am misting up as I write this, came from the memories this story invoked of my two hound dog brother, Winston and Blue, that had adopted me when they were but 6 months old. Winston died about two years before Blue did, he died laying in my lap. I carried him down to the tree line in the west pasture in the bucket of the tractor and spent the day digging his grave right next to my first horses’. He was a big dog and I wanted him deep in the ground so the coyotes would not be able to dig him up, Blue Dog laid under the bucket and watched me dig the grave the whole time, digging in clay with a shovel take some time. He watch me line the grave with a blanket, lay Winston on it, wrap him with it, and cover him up with the dirt.

When I was watching the movie where the dog starved itself to death pining for his brother I was thinking, “Boy, you dog did not love you as much as Blue loved me, for Blue with never choose to leave me”. When Winston was in the ground and I was done Blue and I went back up to the house with me, had his dinner, and laid by my feet as I settled in to watch some TV before going to bed.

About 6-7 mounts before Blue Dog left me Charley Dog came to live with us. Blue and Charley got along much better than Blue and Winston did, take my advice and never try to keep two brothers from the same litter in the same house, they will spend their lives fighting for dominance. In the last few weeks of Blues life he had lost the ability to climb the stairs to get to my bedroom, he would trip and fall back down them. After not being able to figure out how to keep his from try other than making his sleep outside, I started sleeping on the sofa downstairs, and he was happy to lay on the floor next to me. He died on that floor in the middle of one night. I dug his grave right next to his brother’s with Charley Dog keeping me company that time.

This is the video I made for Blue Dog after his passing. I screwed up, and the last half is a repeat of the first half, but it give you a flavor of my hound dog Blue Dog.

 

Advertisements
Published in: on November 15, 2014 at 09:38  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

The URI to TrackBack this entry is: https://carolinacowboy.wordpress.com/2014/11/15/where-the-red-ferns-grow-or-winston-blue-charley-and-me/trackback/

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: