Death of A Friend, Birth of A Legend

Gunisson (April 2001 - January 2011)

As we travel down lifes' path we encounter dark tunnels and it becomes hard to see the trail.  Friends are like candles that help illuminate the way.  My dog Gunnison was one of those candles in my life.  As a boy, like most boys, I dreamt of having that loyal companion, that dog that would follow me anywhere with a canine grin.  Ofcourse, books like "Where the Red Fern Grows" and movies like "Old Yeller" just added a little fuel to the fire.  We have had a couple family dogs and each one of them burned a special place in each one of our hearts.  "Buttercup" was our first dog, a minature schnauser who fit right in with the family.  She was a cute little pistol that could bring a smile to anyones face.  Later on, "Damsel" became part of our family.  Damsel was an absolute canine angel.  She was named after a Damsel Fly, which is a pattern we use fly fishing.  The name fit too. That dog racked up some serious fly fishing hours!  I think she fished with my dad and brother more than I did!  Damsel loved going on trips with the family.  We never needed a leash with her.  We would fish for hours and she would explore but always keep us in hearing distance.  Gunnison got alot of his adventurous loyalty from his mother.  I recall the day he was born.  I had just gotten home from GCC where I was taking classes at the time.  Mom met me at the door and said Damsel was ready to deliver and had been waiting for me to get home.  As soon as I walked over to her, she settled in to her welping box.  The first puppy got stuck and had to be hand delivered.  That stuck puppy was Gunnison. (I named him Gunnison after the Gunnison River, Colorado where the family would spend a couple weeks each summer.)  He came out backwards and completely snow white.  I hadn't really planned on keeping any of the pups, but I was melted by that snowy little fur ball.  As a puppy he was the biggest goof.  He loved to tear up paper towels and then just give me his signature goofy grin.  Gunny went with me everywhere I could take him.  Like his mother, he was truely an outdoorsmans' dog.  One of my favorite early memories of Gunny is fishing Lime Creek in Colorado.  Gunny was having a blast getting in my way as I was trying to cast or trying to figure out where the heck that chipmunk went.  There were alot of deadfalls and rocks we had to navigate going down stream.  Fishing was good and I had stopped paying attention to Gunny.  After releasing a fish, I turn and look for Gunny. No sign so I call his name a couple times knowing he'll be by shortly.  I return to fishing a productive white water run.  As I was casting I notice a white fuzz ball struggling in the white water and rapidly heading downstream.  I dropped my rod and ran downstream and into the frigid water.  I waded up to my chest and my waders filled with water as I grab the neck scruff of a rafting canine.  Apparently Gunnison decided that climbing logs was too much effort and thought the creek would be more efficient. Goof.  Gunny also loved bird hunting with me.  I remember shooting a dove quite a ways out in some really tall grass.  Gunny took off for the retrieve at mach speed.  Just before he got to where the bird went down I saw all the grass and bushes lay down.  Gunnison had run right into a wire fence at full speed!  He picked himself up and gave me what I thought was an embarassed look and continued after the bird.  Goof.  I've been through some tough times and that is where Gunny would truely shine.  He was always by my side.  He always pried a smile from me.  He will always be my boy.  I'm finding it hard to continue writing.  Sometimes there just aren't enough words.  I am so thankful to have had Gunny in my life.  I believe even a dog can mold and shape a persons character.  Gunny helped me see the lighter side of things.  Perhaps the candle has burned out but Gunnison still continues to illuminate my life.  I miss you so much Gunny Boy.  You will always be a legend like in the books or movies to me.