Fetching game

My young dog has developed an annoying habit. Earlier this year, he caught a quail on his own, which upped my shooting average, but then he appeared to be so proud of his capture that we spent the next 10 minutes trying to get him to give up his prize. Usually I can speak the word, "Here," and he will come right to me, but this time he had something better than what the old timer was feeding him, so he would run by and look at me as if to say, "See what I've got?" but never get close enough for me to liberate the quail.

Most recently, he has taken this game a step further. When we went to the farm the last time, after enjoying a two-hour romp in the forest, it came time to load the truck. The old dog went to his pen, but Drifter, living up to his name, drifted by and continued romping around the old red pickup truck. Needless to say, when I am ready to go, I don't like a 10-minute wait while he plays this game of delay and keep away.

It all came to a head at Blue Mound. After hunting for the better part of a day, we decided it was time to hit the road, and once again he began to play his game of keep away. Deciding it was time for a lesson, I slammed the tailgate with the old dog safely in the bed of the pickup, and we drove a half-mile across the pasture along the railroad tracks and finally out to the road. All the while, Drifter ran frantically alongside the pickup as if to say, "You aren't going to leave me, are you?"

I pulled to a halt a half-mile later, opened the tailgate, and I didn't have to say anything. Drifter immediately put his front feet up on the ready --to-load.

The next step will be to see if he remembers what happened last time as we head for another outing.

Some memories make a big impression and remain with you throughout your life, but sometimes you can't remember where you put the keys or if you locked the door.

Last Sunday at church, three young men sang, "We Three Kings of Orient Are," and I was transported back 55 years ago to the Federated Church of Blue Mound where three young boys did the same. Perhaps because it was the first time I had to sing a solo in church, but the memory is clear as a bell today. We were all dressed in bathrobes, and each of us had a gift. After our trio sang the first verse in unison, we peeled off one at a time, starting up the left aisle. To this day, I know all the words of the third verse that begins, "myrrh is mine, bitter perfume." I think the singing was probably complicated by the fact that not only did we have a bathrobe and present, but we had to walk up the aisle at the same time and end up at the manger scene.

The point is that sometimes the things that scare us the most and that we are afraid to tackle become special moments when we look back. So the next time someone asks you to perform in front of a church group, 4-H or a club, go ahead and take the step; because I can guarantee the memory will stick with you.