By B.J. Grassmann, WWA Board Member/Habitat Committee Chair
This article originally appeared in Wisconsin Waterfowl Association’s July, 2022 Newsletter edition.
The loss is real, and the wound is raw now. I have a hole in my heart and in my life. We had to put down the best duck dog I have ever known this morning, on Father’s Day.
Boo came to us in the normal way. A recommendation from a friend. Talking to breeders, owners, vets and references. Boo came from a guy who was truly one of a kind. Gordy A. near Fremont. All I spoke with seemed to agree that Gordy spun a few tales together but one thing was clear, everyone who knew dogs, knew Gordy knew about labs. He had almost 50 years of breeding labs, and I was very fortunate to get on the very tail end of his expertise.
Boo Grassmann at age 10
Boo, born on Halloween, thus her name, was smart, athletic, and happy. The first weekend home she had sit, come, and fetch pretty much down. While house training took a little longer as it usually does, Boo made it up with love, affection, and energy that knows no bounds… You who have raised lab puppies understand what I am speaking of. Even our walking and training each morning and evening were not enough. My bride was not shy about sharing the day’s trials and tribulations with a young, overly energetic lab puppy.
We trained every day in short sessions, praising all the way. If we got stuck on a building block, we went back a few steps and started over. If she had some shortfalls in the field, you can blame it on her trainer, me. And we had a few missteps along the way. But that first morning at 11 months old when I luckily clipped a grouse and she brought it back and dropped it at my boots! Well, let’s just say I had to check to see if there were any buttons left on my shirt.
Through the years she proved herself more than worthy of retrieving ducks and flushing grouse. We bagged our share of pheasant, but that was not her thing. Duck retrieving was what she was born for. Too many times, the other blinds with their dogs would lose birds and Boo would be brought in to collect what lesser dogs could not find. And she rarely, if ever, came back empty handed. Sometimes going in and getting two or three birds.
The essence of our relationship was that she was a great family dog and a great bird dog. She allowed the both of us to coexist in the natural order of things.
For a few short moments, each year, Boo and I would fit into our surroundings, we would fit into the natural order of things, we would be a part of our biosphere. We were one with nature!
It could have been part of a youth hunt with one of the kids. It could have been on a grouse hunt at the shack, or it could have been hunting ducks on Winnebago. As I reflect back, it was those snippets of time when we fit into the natural course of things that I was most at piece with my family, with my friends and with me.
At this point in time, it’s hard to imagine another dog stealing my heart. I am confident the kids will be telling retrieving stories of Boo to their kids and grandkids. Boo will definitely go down as one of the best duck dogs of the marsh. While I know I will have other dogs that hunt, it’s hard to imagine I will have any other canine companion that shares my love for the outdoors as much as she did. The bar has been set biblically high.
So while the wound is raw, time will help to heal that. And while Boo is gone, the Legend of Boo has just begun.
God bless you, Boo. My hope is you have a sweet little duck marsh up there and that maybe one day, we’ll have a chance to share a duck blind again.
You will be greatly missed.