True Life Story About My Father and His Beloved Hunting Dogs

Growing up in the South, my father was passionate about raising Bluetick Hounds, Redbone Hounds, Blue Heelers, and Beagles. An enthusiastic hunter and fisherman, he pursued these activities avidly until his 40s. When asked why he no longer hunted, he would simply say, “The only thing I shoot at animals these days is my camera lens.”

As an animal lover myself, I believed I understood the shift in my father's perspective, or at least I thought I did.

A pivotal event marked a turning point in his life: in 1984, my grandfather and my nine-year-old cousin tragically drowned in a fishing accident. After this profound loss, my father could not bring himself to hunt or fish again. He was not one to openly express his emotions, so the depth of his depression and the struggles he faced remained largely unknown to us.

Consequently, his hounds and other hunting dogs transitioned from working animals to cherished family pets. My father passed away at the age of 54 after a battle with terminal cancer.

Over the years, these dogs, along with all our family's other animals, provided peace and comfort not only to my father but to our entire family. Sometimes, I swear I can still hear the resonant sounds of my father's hounds and I smile.