Maxwell Comes From Conformation Lines...

...but maybe he has some field blood in him too?

I was immensely proud of Maxwell today. The sheer number of distractions is what usually does us in, and in the beginning, he was all over the place.

All the other hunters, the other dogs, every tasty morsel at nose level in this big, beautiful world he's just beginning to learn about...

But lo and behold, he started to settle in. He listened to my commands, most especially the one we've been working so hard on "Sit, stay.", (yes, quivering from tail tip to muzzle, but sitting nonetheless) and resisting all urges to yield to the sheer anticipation.

Then, it was time.

We were released to do our thing. We moved to the edge of the group, and systematically started working our assigned grid, row by row by row.

It was then that Maxwell first heard the call that awakened some pure-blooded instinct from deep within his ancestral DNA. A call he had never heard before, but knew so well.

And again the pheasant crowed.

Maxwell's head came up, ears at attention, chest puffed out, legs braced wide in their confident stance, his tail flagging high and proud in the breeze.

And his eyes.

Oh, his eyes:

Pure, unadulterated intensity.

It was easy to tell that in that very moment there was only him; me, his master; and the marked prey--hearts all beating in unison as a primal, pulsing drumbeat.

Time stood still.

Then everything went into slow motion as the proud bird began to fall from his lofty flight, colors glistening in the light. Inexorably being pulled to Earth, no longer free of the grasp of gravity itself.

Maxwell, begged, pleaded, implored to be released, straining against the nylon of his harness.

So we went.

And when Maxwell claimed his prize, a prouder retriever has never been seen.

I caught a quick picture.


 

  

What? Oh, surely you didn't think...

By hunters of course I meant bargain hunters at Petsmart. And row, by row, I meant the store aisles!


But seriously, do you think he might have some field drive?