Why does it feel like you've lost a mucker?

Discussion in 'Shooting, Hunting and Fishing' started by RMA1, Apr 28, 2011.

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  1. They come into your life and cause mayhem, up cryin all night destroyin your kit, become part of your life and constant companion They know when things are going bad and give you the look when you miss of complete contempt and are overjoyed when you connect and dissapear off the do the thing they enjoy.

    Bloody Gun dogs they share our lives and when the time comes to saunter off its like loosing your best mucker. No shoot day is complete without them whether a rough day or a formal, duck flight or pidgeon roosting. And tear your heart out when they go.
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  2. sounds like you have, as you say, lost a mucker. I am sorry. It is a terrible time. I wept like a baby when I had my retriever put down.
  3. I've seen the biggest, steely-eyed killing machine type blokes reduced to tears over loss of a dog. It really is like losing a damn good mate. Cried when it happened to me! Sorry. Beer?
  4. Lost our 7-year-old Rottweiler to cancer last week. Unhappy.
  5. Fronty

    Fronty Old-Salt Book Reviewer

    I'm dreading my spaniel going, but have had to deal with three losses so far, good dogs all of them.
  6. Had to have my Springer 'Ben' put down, I had to go in through the rear of the Vets 'cos I was blubbering so much.

    Take an arm or a leg, even take the Wife but don't take my mate.

    Hard to bear, very very Hard to bear.
  7. I am a stoic believer in men not crying. I almost vom when hearing phrases such as 'bit dusty in here' in response to some giffer with a few bits of bling popping off, but crying for a dog is different, there are still rules. It must be done whilst drunk and clutching a bottle of single malt, alone, ........ VERY alone, preferably somewhere windswept and lightly heathered wearing a faded wax jacket, Craghopper shirt, denims and **** off big wellies.

    Any other emotional outbursts are gay.
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  8. Been there myself, so very often. A house which has recently lost a dog is like one of those FIBUA training houses in Brecon, cold, damp, shot to **** and full of CS.

    I'm lucky enough to be able to aim off.

    The German hunters say a gun dog is:

    4 years a young dog

    4 years a good dog

    4 years an old dog

    All my dogs aquire a young sidekick at about the eight year point. The young dogs learn a great deal from their older compadres and are much less likely to make mistakes in the field. I find them much easier to train.
  9. Funnily enough, the abysmal reaches of Facebook tore my heart strings yesterday when the Dogbook App (something my wife had added to my profile one day) reminded me that my last Lab Cross hadn't posted anything for a while.

    Thanks, that's because he had to be destroyed, 2 years ago and I had got over it (I thought). Apparently not, as I sat on the train cursing modern BlackBerrys that can deliver emails to you anywhere and the fact that FB was emailing me (disabled that from my profile long ago). And yes, I got something in my eye too!

    It wasn't made any easier by the fact that we rehomed a friends Choc lab recently and he has been brilliant.
  10. I cried when I had to have my dog put down. Only time I've cried since being a nipper.
  11. My Afghan/GSD cross, Slim is 15+ and I'm dreading him going, he does this sort of forward roll dive when out running and every time he does it my hearts stops, thinking he has had a heart attack or something, but if he has to die that's probably the best way, doing what he loves, running like f@ck, chasing something, I think my life would be nowhere near as good as it is without my two four legged best mates, Slim and Misty
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  12. There is sorrow enough in the natural way
    From men and women to fill our day;
    And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
    Why do we always arrange for more?
    Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
    Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

    Buy a pup and your money will buy
    Love unflinching that cannot lie --
    Perfect passion and worship fed
    By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
    Nevertheless it is hardly fair
    To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

    When the fourteen years which Nature permits
    Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
    And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
    To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
    Then you will find -- it's your own affair --
    But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

    When the body that lived at your single will,
    With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
    When the spirit hat answered your every mood
    Is gone -- wherever it goes -- for good,
    You will discover how much you care,
    And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

    We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
    When it comes to burying Christian clay.
    Our loves are not given, but only lent,
    At compound interest of cent per cent.
    Though it is not always the case, I believe,
    That the longer we've kept'em, the more do we grieve;

    For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
    A short-time loan is as bad as a long --
    So why in -- Heaven (before we are there)
    Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?


    I hope no one pops into my office until I can get rid of the tears....
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  13. Beat me to it Higgs bosun!

    Wise man Kipling.

    A lot of bad things have happened to people who make some comment such as "only a dog" at the wrong time!
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  14. Sorry to hear that- I had to shoot my own Rotty a few months ago which ripped my heart out. They are so utterly devoted to one person that the loss is magnified I think.
  15. if your going to get all cultural on me i'll have to counter with:

    Boatswain by lord Byron

    When some proud son of man returns to earth,
    Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
    The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe,
    And storied urns record who rests below;
    When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
    Not what he was, but what he should have been.
    But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
    The first to welcome, the foremost to defend,
    Whose honest heart is still his master's own,
    Who labors, lives, fights, breathes for him alone,
    Unhonored falls, unnoticed all his worth,
    Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth.
    While man, vain insect, hopes to be forgiven,
    And claims himself a sole, exclusive heaven.
    Ye! Who behold, perchance, this simple urn,
    Pass on; it honours none you wish to mourn.
    To mark a friend's remains these stones rise,
    I have never known but one - and here he lies.
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