I’ve wanted another dog for a while now, since my old boy Jack died three years ago, actually. The time has just never been right. Too much is unsettled in my life, and you want settled when you incorporate a puppy into your household.
The other day I was reminded that someone thinks I shouldn’t wait any longer.
I’ve been the entire pack for my current English setter, Doll, since Jack passed. She’s been OK with that, but just barely. The problem is that time when I’m away at work. I recently moved to a job out of town, which means I’m gone nine hours a day. Doll doesn’t like being alone that long.
We also, recently, moved to a new place with a nice, dog-friendly backyard. Or at least I thought. I learned the hard way that’s not exactly the case when we came home at the end of the day and found her roaming around the neighborhood.
That seemed odd. The gate was shut, and there were no signs of tunneling beneath the 6-foot vinyl fence that surrounds the yard, but Doll was definitely out. She greeted the Elk Hunter when she stopped for the mail.
Fortunately, Doll hadn’t roamed far, probably because there was a crew across the street building a house. Company seemed to be what she craved.
A little detective work sorted out her escape method. The Elk Hunter has decorated the yard with a few European-style mounts. They’re old and chalky white; not much to look at really. She has them leaning against the fence near the garden, and judging by the muddy paw prints on the white fence above an especially tall set of antlers, that was all the assistance Doll needed to get up over the wall.
The landing on the other side couldn’t have been too comfortable, however. The dog has had the slightest of limps since.
Doll’s never really been an escape artist. Yes, like most dogs, she’d walk through an open gate, but she’s generally content to stick around the house waiting for my return. When I was working in town and could stop home a time or two during the day, she never got out even though the fence at the old place was only waist high. She could practically step over that gate, but never did.
All day alone is just too much. I realized the afternoon of the escape that it’s time to get back on the puppy quest. Doll’s not getting any younger, and she deserves a partner in crime as she moves into her mature years. I know her presence made all the difference for Jack, and the fact that she was there laying next to him when he passed makes the memory of that sad night a little easier.
Of course I’ll get another setter. I’m fond of the breed and all its quirks and eccentricities. Doll comes from Ryman lines, from a breeder in Lewistown, and she’s just about perfect for me.
Ryman-type setters are larger than the Llewellin line that is more common today. Though thinner, Rymans are similar in size to golden retrievers and have similarly loving dispositions. They’re the classic setter usually depicted in bird dog art pointing ruffed grouse and woodcock.
There’s no bird dog I dislike, but the Llewellins are just a bit high strung for my tastes. And I like a dog I can see over sagebrush. Ryman types (the true Ryman line is gone) are good-sized dogs and males can run up to 100 pounds. Doll weighs in at about 65 pounds, on the big side for females.
Anyway, it’s time for another Ryman. And I have a chore as well. I’ll need a secure kennel to keep the pack safe when I’m away. Any dog that climbs elk horns to scale fences can’t be trusted to mentor a puppy.