The Georgia Outdoor Writers Association holds its "Excellence in Craft" competition for members each year. This article won 2nd place in the Daily Newspaper category for 1999.
GEORGIA'S GREAT OUTDOORS
That expression said "Everything would be fine now that I was there"
Ronnie Garrison
December 19, 1999
Squirt was a ditch dog.
On Father's Day in 1983 I walked out to get the newspaper and heard whimpering coming from the pipe under the driveway. When I looked, a tiny black puppy with big brown eyes came tumbling out and tried to hug my shoe.
Some low-life slob had dumped him during the night. He followed me back to the house, with just a little encouragement.
I had to walk really slowly so he could keep up.
Linda and I had already decided we did not need another dog, but I could not help giving the puppy some milk. He was so small I could easily hold him in one hand, and his wagging tail, smiling face and licking tongue showed he liked human attention.
Without too much effort I convinced Linda he could live outside and not be any trouble. He was so tiny I named him Squirt.
After I cut a hole in the utility room door and made a bed for him so he would have a place to sleep , he seemed very happy. His little tail wagged constantly and he always wanted attention, looking for comfort from people since he did not have any other puppies to live with.
Merlin, our house dog, tolerated him by ignoring him. She could get away from Squirt by walking at her regular pace.
Squirt started growing and we soon realized he was a mixed breed - 90% black lab and 10% BIG!
At a little over one year old he weighed 115 pounds! He could stand flat-footed and look in a car window, something that kept visitors in their car until Linda or I came out. I don't think he would have hurt them, but they did not know that!
The only thing I ever saw Squirt hurt was a possum. He would chase a possum down, grab it and shake it, breaking its neck. He seemed to love to do that and kept the possum population under control around our house.
He would let kittens crawl all over him and not bother them, but don't let a possum near!
Squirt loved to ride in the boat, and I seldom went fishing without him. His ears would flop in the wind as he stood like a prow ornament, and he would get a funny look on his face when we hit a wave. He would turn to me with an expression that said "don't do that any more!"
Dogs can express emotion with their faces, and Squirt was good at it. The time he got shot and made it home, he looked at me with a trusting expression that seem to show relief that he would be taken care of.
Living through that experience prompted Dr. Lindsay to tell us we needed to change his name to "Lucky."
He could also have a very quizzical look when he did not understand something. He often got that look when we went hiking and he found something new, like a chipmunk that disappeared into a hole.
He was used to squirrels that ran up trees around the house.
Squirt had the hips of a Lab and they started failing him when he was 12. Within a few months he could not longer navigate the steps into the house so I again made him a bed in the utility room where he had slept as a puppy.
Not long after doing that I came home from work and found him lying in the front yard. He could not get up.
When I went to him, he looked up at me with an expression that seemed embarrassed that he was having those problems, but that he thought he would be OK now that I was there.
When I picked him up and put him on his feet, he fell again. When I put him in the van he tried to wag his tail. He seemed to think we were going fishing.
At the vet's office I managed to tell them Squirt could not get up. When they checked him, they said he needed to be put down. He would not recover from his hip problem. I said I wanted to take him home to bury him so they gave him the shot in the van. I went inside since I was not able to watch.
The first shot was not strong enough and I went back out with the vet. Squirt looked at me with that expression that said he trusted me and everything would be fine now that I was there.
I scratched his head - he was shivering from the first shot - and was still rubbing his ears when he laid his head down and relaxed as the second shot took effect.
I buried Squirt under the pear tree beside Merlin.
Till next time, Gone Fishin'!
