The one thing most Maineiacs really love is their dog. Maine dogs are not only pets they are also working members of the family. Paul Wilson came to the gathering late one Monday evening and his face was so long it appeared he had broken both his jaw bones and his mouth had fallen open.
 

   “What happened, Paul,” someone asked. Choked up so badly he could hardly speak Paul said, 
   “I lost my dog this weekend. You can’t imagine what that dog meant to me. I trained him from a pup and he minded me better than my kids do. He was so smart it was almost scary. When I reached for my fishing pole he’d find  my worm can, dig some fresh worms, and bring them to me at my favorite fishing hole. If I reached for my shotgun he’d head for the thickets and flush out some birds for me to shoot at. When I took my rifle down he’d head for the meadow, find a big buck and drive the deer to a spot where I could easily shoot it. 

   Every night when I was comfortably seated in my easy chair he’d bring in my paper, fetch me my slippers, and bring me my pipe.”     
   Paul had to stop for a few moments, blow his nose, and wipe a big tear from his eye before he could continue. 

   "You all know how much my dog loved to hunt for raccoons but I don’t think I ever told you about his special talent. When I wanted a raccoon skin to sell I’d cut a board to stretch and dry my skins on and my dog would go out into the woods and find a raccoon exactly the size I wanted.” 

   Now the lump in Paul’s throat was getting so big he could hardly speak. “Early Saturday morning Madolyn (Paul’s wife) asked me to recover her ironing board. I was cutting the board down a little and my dog was sitting there watching me. He got all glassy eyed, scratched behind his ear, and took off for to  woods to find a raccoon with a skin big enough to cover the ironing board. I ain’t seen hide or hair of him since."