If you missed out on Part 1, click here
After very little time and training the two became inseparable and as they grew into adolescent years so did their reputation for being the best pair in the county. Everyday my dad would come home from school grab his gun and head to the hollers with boots. The two would hunt til dark not caring if they shot a bird or not, just the fact of being in the woods was good enough for them. It didn’t have to be quail either, boots loved to hunt squirrel while the hens were on the nest. That’s probably what kept him going all year, just the thought of new quail to point the next season.
Boots was a pure bred hunter heart and soul. Many people wondered how boots would have done in a national competition, but it was the sport that he loved not the competition. Boots may not have been picky about what he hunted but he was about who he hunted with, my dad and grandfather was the only ones he wanted to hunt with. He would do his job and track the birds but he expected you to do your job as well. I’ve heard of more than one story when boots went home because someone couldn’t shoot the bird.
Boots hunted and loved it all the way up til the day he died. One unfortunate spring day boots died. He was 17 years old and deaf, he was on his way back home after checking on the livestock across the road when someone came around a blinding turn and boots didn’t make it home. It was devastating to the family, not only had we lost a pet but a member of the family. My dad buried him in the family cemetery with a marker that just plainly reads Boots my dear friend. I wasn’t old enough to remember a lot about boots but now that I have an opportunity I think everyone should know about him. I hope his story has inspired you as much as it has me, not only as a hunter but as a friend and a person.