Here's to my dog, Zack

I miss you buddy. Remember the time you pointed a Pheasant so long that I thought there was nothing there, and then he flushed just as I gave up? What about the time I dropped a bird in a corn field and you chased him down and brought him back twenty minutes later, when I'd given up on you? Remember the time you brought down a bird I hadn't even shot at? Remember how excited you got whenever we drove on a gravel road? You lived for roaming open fields, searching for those wily Ringnecks. I love you buddy.

A man ain't much of a hunter without a good bird-dog. Zack, you were the best. There are a lot of good dogs out there, but buddy, you were a good hunter, as well as a good friend. I wish I'd realized how talented you were when I was fifteen, and had the capacity to really appreciate you.

Here's to my late bird-dog, Zacker-Dog, I miss you brother. I wish I'd been with you when you passed, and I hope that you know the esteem that I hold you in. Wherever you are my friend, I hope the hunting is good.