Scott Linden Outdoors

It’s your seventh birthday, Buddy. “Lucky,” in most people’s books.

I don’t know who’s luckier – you, or me. You are a rock, and you ROCK. Steady, loyal, sensitive and tolerant … of your nephew Manny and my training foibles, for starters. On your birthday, I’m reminded again of the many milestones

A few birthdays ago ...

we’ve passed together: launching two TV series, the arrival of one pup and the passing of your uncle, health crises for both of us, rough times and smooth sailing. Always (always!) you were there with a head on my knee when I needed it most.

You were our first “store bought” dog – lithe and light, even as a pup. Your conformation is the envy of every other wirehair owner. The weekend I went to Idaho to get you, three others left town for points north and south, returning with wire pups too. I’ve hunted with them all, and still believe you’re the strongest, fastest, with the most stamina. Some day, all of us will share a field together!

Okay, so you’re not the best retriever in the dog world. Your “drive-by” fetches get the birds close, but sometimes they’ve still got some steam. That chukar in the Pueblos that glided over a mile after you put it down two steps from me? You’re forgiven, even if you hadn’t found it after I’d given up at the bottom of the draw.

When we have coffee in the morning, your long-distance gaze is puzzling to me. Are you looking for birds? Guarding the back yard from flower-eating mule deer? Or is that just a way for you to relax and take in the smells and sights of a happy home life, shared with a most appreciative owner?

You run faster and climb higher than your nephew, producing birds we’d never find otherwise. You’ll go anywhere for a bird, including that ice-covered river that almost took you away from me for good. And when the day is done, you’re a good sleeper too – settling in and quiet in those places where dogs aren’t allowed but you are.

And more recently ...

You are an ambassador for our shared passion. From banquets to barrooms, you’re the laid-back, tolerant life of the party. And when I need a fifth, sixth, or seventh take on a “Buddy & Me” segment on the TV show, you wait patiently for me to remember my lines and hit my marks.

You have a stoic streak, that has only gotten stronger with the arrival of your nephew. Maybe because of his energy and curiosity, maybe simply from maturity, maybe it’s rubbed off of me. You’re now a “senior dog” in the industry parlance, but not in my book. You move like the wind, floating over sage and lava as if wearing Mercury’s winged sandals. When a truck full of their own Labs and shorthairs are available, my hunting partners choose you.

And so do I.