I think Connie and I were both fortunate and unfortunate enough not to have children. Nonetheless, we still had to have pets in our relationship, or our marriage probably would not have held together for as long as it did. Casey was our first dog, even though we had cats already. That helped instill both love and tolerance in Casey and keep that mischievous yet fun sense of humor and respect.
A fond memory that comes to mind was when Casey was about 4 years old, I decided to take him on our first Pheasant Hunt, we were by ourselves when suddenly, a Pheasant jumped behind us. I spun shot, and the bird went down wounded. Since I had an expensive English Shotgun and an inexperienced Cocker Spaniel, I decided not to try to ground sleuth the bird. I thought Casey and I would chase it down and if Casey or I would put it out of its misery. Well, that was not so simple. As I ran after the wounded bird with a shotgun in hand and Casey ran right beside me, trying to figure out why this handler was jogging and shooting off a gun, which did not seem to bother him, Casey must have thought an interesting form of exercise. Then Casey’s eye caught what I was chasing, and Casey’s instincts kicked in along with his legs. In a flash, Casey caught up to the bird, but instead of grabbing around the neck or head, Casey stepped on the Bird’s tail and looked up at me as if to say look what I have, Dad. Then I caught up and started to reach down and grab the bird’s neck, and Casey let go. Casey, thinking this was so fun in a matter of seconds, did this a few more times until the bird shot down into a muddy ditch. DRATS. The bird was lost. We tried to search the ditch as thoroughly as possible, and the only trace we could find was the bird’s tail feather.
The ride home was full of mixed emotions. When we got home Casey just had to show Mom his prize that he was so proud of. Casey tore into the house, and while Connie, who always slept in, was still asleep, a mud-caked Cocker Spaniel sat on my pillow to show Mom. Then our Black Cat Mo jumped on the bed to see what the commotion was about and quickly became interested in the Pheasant Feather. In all the years that cat and Casey were together, that was the first and only time Casey showed any aggression towards Mo.
After I quickly calmed the commotion, Connie woke, and she calmly and happily said Casey, please get down. You are a good boy. Now get down. Then burst of BUZZ!*^& came out. The Bed is a mess of Mud, Casey is filthy and smells, and what is this Pheasant Feather doing in the bed? I tried to tell her the story, but she just got more irritated, and as she rolled over, her last comment to me was, “ The dog and you got dirty, but I bet your English Shotgun is the cleanest of you all” That’s when Casey looked up at me and said, it’s OK to forgo my bath dad if you want to clean your shotgun.