duke

PR River Ridge Bawling Duke was the dog who pulled my dad back into coonhutning and who pulled me into coonhunting. Duke didn't bawl, but he was given the name as a puppy-what else could we do? Anyway, he was a very loud trail and tree dog and he had a descent chop mouth on tree. He was a beautiful dog, with gorgeous conformation. He had a dark saddle blanket and beautiful feet. He would have made both GR NITE and GR CH if he hadn't died. Duke never entered more than about 5 or 6 shows in his life of 5 years. We got into competition when he was about three. Towards me and those he knew, Duke was a loving dog. Towards the mail man, well just the opposite. Duke did find a fight or two in his life, but never at an event, and he wasn't intentionally mean-the other dogs usually started it. I remember him biting my dad and chasing the meter man, not fighting dogs.

Duke was a very special dog to me, he brought me into the sport of coonhunting, and if he hadn't been given to my dad, I doubt I'd ever have gotten into it. Duke was my best friend when I was a kid; he and I spent countless days taking walks in the woods and lying in the shade of trees. Duke thought he was a lap dog and often would lie next to me and rest his head and front legs in my lap. I don't remember how I discovered it, but Duke loved me to read to him, especially Where The Red Fern Grows. I think I must have read that book to him atleast 50 times. Yet neither of us ever got tired of it, or of each other. Our plans had been to breed Duke to our female, Jewel, but he suffered a tragic death less than 2 years ago, and we all suffered. I have only two things to remember Duke by, besides his grave above our trailer and about 5 pictures of him. One is the worn copy of Where The Red Fern Grows, by Wilson Rawls. The pages are creased with not age, but use, and are tinged yellow from being left in the rain one night. And amongst the pages memories flood, and somehow I can still smell that hound smell of Duke amongst them.

Before Duke died there was an accidental breeding(from what I know) between him and our english female, Patches. The result was a litter of 8 puppies- two of which died. Four males and two females lived. We kept a male, D.J. who is one of my few tokens left of Duke. D.J. is a gorgeous tri-ticked male about 20 months old. His sister, Maci, was kept by Mike Harrington, Patches' co-owner and our fellow hunting buddy. She is more like her mom and is mainly blue. D.J. just happens to stand for Duke Junior, and he has well lived up to his name, resembling so much of his father.