what can I post about my deceased dog? After all dogs are such a big part of our sport as well as members of our family. They offer unconditional love and friendship. They do not care about what you drive, where you live, how much you make, if your smart, stupid, ugly, fat or skinny. They exist to love you and do things that make you proud. Like crashing thru ice covered ponds or making extra long retrieves in the frigid waters just to get a good boy and a pat on the head. Instead of you coming home after work just to come home, they look at it like, hey your here to see me.
I swear mine thought he was human, we kept his crate right in the TV room in direct sight of the kitchen so he could be around his family. We left his cage open and he would come and go, only closing it at night or when leaving the house. After all he is a lab and his nose got him into trouble a few times in the kitchen. We got one of those trash cans where the foot pedal opens the top. I look over and he has one paw on it to open it and he is eating a piece of pizza my daughter threw out. Damn dog, I wish I could go back and give him a hug on that day instead of yelling at him. I recently had to put down my almost 13 year old hunting companion Otis two weeks ago. He came to work with me on a daily basis for years and hunted with me for 11 seasons. He was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure this past summer at the age of 12. We gave him meds to remove the liquid from his lungs since Aug and they stopped working in Feb. He lacked the strength to even get up to greet me at the door most nights, only getting up to go outside, eat, and get up for some treats and hugs from my kids, although he wasn’t in pain and his tail still had plenty of energy, the rest of him had no energy and he just wasn’t the same dog. I made the hard choice to put him down 2/17/16 at 1050am, a day and time I will never forget. Simply put, this was the hardest thing I have yet to do in life. At 44 I know there are worse things that happen in life and I am lucky and fortunate so far. When we got to the vet my wife had to sign the paperwork at the vet as I just couldn’t. I layed his bed down and told him to kennel. This was a command we had for him to enter into or onto something. I sat down on the cold tile floor next to him at the vets, they gave us all the time we needed and didn’t rush us. The Vet came in its all a blur as I placed Otis’s head on my lap, my wife and I gently stroked his head and watched the life go out of him. As crazy as it sounds, a part of me died that day I am sure of it, I don’t feel like I am the same man, and I am not ashamed to say I have never cried like that before in my life, I have never felt pain like that before. I truly feel heartbroken over this and feel like I lost a member of my family.

I got Otis from a breeder of duck dogs on the seacoast, I went there with my wife and then almost 2 year old daughter. My daughter had hair down to her bum back then. As we walked into the back yard all the 8 week old pups came over. All the puppies would jump up on my daughter and try to knock her over, or bite and pull her by her hair off her feet. While my wife was fighting off the onslaught of puppies from all directions Otis came over sat down next to my daughter and my wife. I said that is the one I will take. Its funny how some might look at that as a weak dog or not aggressive, but he was always a protector of my kids right from that day on. He grew to around 82 to 85 pounds and did some amazing retrieves, he was all nose, all heart and still a big puppy trying to climb onto my lap when I watched tv. I would come home some nights and throw my girls over my shoulder when they were younger and rough house with my girls over the years, Otis would bark at me till I stopped. He wouldn’t bark in a mean way but he just didn’t like it. When we brought my youngest home from the hospital he would push himself between any visitors and my baby girl. If anyone held her he didn’t know he would bark at them till they put her down, he was their protector. When my youngest was around 2 and head level with Otis I look over and she had her hand in his mouth pulling his tongue with one hand and pulling his whiskers with the other. Although it probably hurt him, he just stood there taking it with his tail wagging. He knew he was bigger and wouldn’t nip or do anything to hurt her my youngest was his favorite, I know he loved her. Otis loved to go duck hunting and he even loved going and watching me miss, If he saw the gun he knew it was time to go have fun. During the summer driving down the road I would catch him tracking birds in the sky, then he would look at me, look back at the birds, look at me again. If he could have spoken I am sure he would ask why I wasn’t shooting at them?. Some days are better than others the last few anyway, I hope the sadness goes away soon. I know I will always miss my little buddy and until we meet again.
Thank You,

Michael Shaw