Tribute to Brooklyn of Cottonhollow

Today we said goodbye to a longtime companion and hunting partner. Brooklyn of Cottonhollow (Brookie) came to us in September of 1998 at the age of seven weeks. Although we had had a couple of dogs before Brookie, she was really the first in our endeavor to breed quality hunting Labrador retrievers. She was born in a kennel in North Carolina and flew across the country to join us. In anticipation of getting a new pup Kirk had discovered an excellent book for training dogs both in obedience and for hunting. The book was Game Dog by Richard Wolters. He had been reading it and sharing parts with the rest of us for weeks so that we would be prepared to help with our new pup. Kirk read that for Brookie to be a loyal hunting dog and real member of the family she needed to live with us in the house. Until now we had never considered having a housedog but we wanted to do it right so we learned all we could about housebreaking and how to train her to behave in the house. It seemed that everything we read and tried out on Brookie worked. These were either great ideas or this was one smart pup. The book told us what to do week by week, where the pup was developmentally and how to think like a dog. Brookie responded well and towards the end of the hunting season that year Kirk took her hunting for the first time. She got to make a retrieve and was hooked on hunting for many seasons to come. This was one smart dog.

I probably spent the most time with Brookie, was the primary caretaker, fed her, bathed her, took care of her needs but because Kirk was the one with the gun who liked to take her hunting he was her favorite and she was very attentive to him whenever he was around. When he was out working in the yard she was close by, hoping he'd take a break and throw a few dummies for her.

Brookie loved jumping in the back of our little red hatchback Ford escort or the suburban because it usually meant a trip back on the river for training or hunting. Kirk loved showing people how much Brookie loved to hunt. She would be sound asleep on the floor or on her bed and he would pick up the shot gun and start to cock it and that dog would jump up and be at his side, ready to go hunting. One silly dog trick she learned was to bark and get excited whenever you would lift up your arms as if you were holding a gun and made bang sounds. A few of my piano students loved to try that out on her and she never let them down.

Did I mention that Brookie was smart? She was also determined. Quite often Kirk would tell me how she could find the ducks that went down without her seeing them. She had a great nose but she also learned to follow Kirk's hand signals. On one hunting trip with a friend, Brookie was left in the crate in the suburban so the friend could use his dog. Several ducks were shot but the dog could not find them all. After trying several times to get the dog to pick up the hidden ducks Kirk trekked back to get Brookie. He brought her to the spot and told her "dead duck", sending her to the area they assumed the missing ducks were in. Brookie went out, circled around a bit, nose to the ground and sure enough picked up the ducks the other dog couldn't find.

Brookie was also tough. She injured one of her toes jumping out of the back of the escort, catching the toe in the part that latched the door down. That foot and toe never looked normal after that but it also never slowed Brookie down. Another time Kirk took her hunting in November. It was cold and there were a lot of broken reeds in the marshy area where the ducks were. There was also a barbed wire fence they had to go through and lots of sharp edges to deal with. When they returned Brookie was lying on a mat near the fireplace while Kirk was cleaning the ducks and putting away his gear. I noticed some blood on the mat and rolled Brookie over to inspect her further. She had a huge gash across her chest that ended up requiring several stitches. Kirk said she never showed any sign of pain or injury. This was one tough dog.

Brookie was a fantastic mother dog and she loved taking care of her puppies. She would even let pups born to our other females nurse on her even when she didn't have pups and wasn't producing milk. She loved being a mom. She produced some great pups that live all over the country. If you were lucky enough to get one of them I'm sure you would agree. In her lifetime she gave birth to 48 puppies. Some went to hunting homes, others to wonderful pet homes and one pup ended up as a working member of the Salt Lake City fire department as a search and rescue dog. Worsley is probably our most famous pup we produced. He actually made it through the toughest of the FEMA dog certification for search and rescue and even worked in the hurricane Katrina disaster. Worsley was certified a FEMA US&R Canine Search Specialist, one of a small list of qualified dogs in the country. I have no doubt that Worsley inherited much of his abilities from his mother Brookie.

Brookie loved to swim and to play fetch with the dummies thrown in the ditch near our home. Even last year at age 12 she surprised us by jumping off the bridge into the ditch after a dummy.

She was the dog of choice for our grandkids to take for a walk as she was the oldest and less likely to drag them down the road. As Brookie aged the walks became shorter but those daily walks were an important part of her life. She looked forward to going even when arthritis had set in and it was obvious that it took much more effort for her. The day before she passed away we went for a walk in the morning and one in the evening.

As a younger dog and for many years Brookie took it upon herself to try and rid the backyard of squirrels. We have bird feeders on the edge of our back yard and the squirrels enjoy whatever is dropped on the ground there. Brookie spent many hours lying on the lawn up near the house watching those squirrels and would slowly creep out closer and closer and then take off running for the spot. She was never fast enough but that didn't keep her from trying. Even earlier this week I watched her creep ever so slowly towards the bird feeders where several squirrels played. At the point she took off at her fastest speed which was now a mere jog, the squirrels scurried off and Brookie returned to her lookout post.

One year we picked up a couple of live mallard ducks to help in our training of a new pup. We housed the ducks in one of our dog kennels complete with a Rubbermaid tub of water for swimming in. Brookie was fascinated and spent hours just watching those ducks, waiting for the perfect opportunity to retrieve them for us.

Brookie had the respect of every dog we got after her. They all looked to her as the Alpha female in the pack. She was a great "trainer" dog and helped the others learn what proper behavior in our home was. She was loving and obedient. She was happiest working as a retriever, companion or whatever role she was asked to fill. She loved to work and was always intent at whatever she was doing.

A couple of years ago I noticed that Brookie had lost much of her hearing. That gradually worsened to the point of her being totally deaf. I wonder how a dog must feel when suddenly they can't hear the sounds anymore. It must be confusing and yet, although this very smart dog who I am certain understood a fairly large vocabulary could no longer hear she still had a keen understanding of an unspoken vocabulary. She could communicate her needs and understand ours without anyone saying anything.

It has been an interesting and tender process to watch the complete life cycle of this dog. She started out as a silly little pup, very much like a child with her unique personality, likes and dislikes (she hated having her feet handled). She learned and grew into a very capable and confident hunting dog and family member, much like the age of our adult children. Then she aged and became more of a peer my own age and in the past couple of years has resembled to me more of a parent and grandparent complete with wisdom and patience.

Earlier this week I discovered Brookie had a large and very fast growing mammary gland tumor, most likely cancerous and so similar to the one that took the life of another of our dogs, Maddy. I knew the tumor had not been there 3 weeks previous when I had given her a bath. This tumor had grown a great deal in those 3 weeks. She had also developed some abscesses on her skin above the tumor. Brookie had become more clingy and restless. I could tell she was not comfortable and she was not sleeping like she had been doing so much of the past couple of years. It was obvious she was going downhill fast and most likely was suffering because of it. I made an appointment with our vet and took her in this morning. He confirmed my diagnosis and agreed that given her age surgery was not the best option. I signed the paperwork and Dr. Bramwell gave Brookie the injections that released her from the pain and problems she had developed. I had called and had our neighbor, Reed Miller bring his little backhoe over to dig a hole yesterday and when Kirk got home this afternoon we lowered Brookie's body into the hole and buried her. She is right next to Maddy who passed away last October, right out near the bird feeders where she used to chase after those squirrels.

Brookie is a special gal. When I returned home from the vet this afternoon I took the other two dogs, Dakota and Soda for our morning walk. I couldn't help but think that although Brookie was not on the leash by my side she was close by, running alongside the other two, chasing after a squirrel or sniffing out some other wonderful smell and was very happy to be able to hear once again, run once again free of pain and enjoying herself. I'm certain that although we can't see her she is nearby and will continue to be our companion and friend and will be there to greet us when it is our time as well.

Brookie, about a year ago at nearly 13 years of age.