Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 December 1884 — Bob Burdette Tells About His Gordian Setter. [ARTICLE]

Bob Burdette Tells About His Gordian Setter.

Well, sir, that dog—eh? That Gordian setter I used to own. I was telling you about him, you know; well, he was smart. Didn’t take him long to catch on to all a man’s points, and he soon found out all about my ramrod and musket, summer vacation stylo of shooting. You know when you take your gun out of its case how a good bird dog goes wild with joy, dances all around you, thrusts its tongue into your face and gives you a swab with it irom chin to eyebrow, and finally rushes out into the yard and yelps and howls and chases the cat and the chickens up into the trees from sheer excess of delight and exuberance of spirits. That’s usually the way of the dog. Well, this Gordian setter of mine, he used to’ watch me pretty close along about the 15th, and some day, when he’d see me unlocking the gun case, he’d sneak in, sit down very solemnly, and watch me with an expression that said plainer than words: , “You ain’t going to take it out this year, are you?” But I’d go on and take the gun out and rub it up a little, and he’d shake his head and look doubtful and sav; “I wouldn’t go if I were you; what’s the use ?” And when I’d sit down and oil the locks, he knew it was settled. Ho would heave the most heart breaking sigh that ever drew on human sympathy, get up and go out into the back yard and sit down in the shade of the wood pile and cry, and shake his head and cry, not lond, you know, but silently. Most touching thing I ever looked at. And then he wouldn’t eat a bit of supper. When it was brought out to him, he’d shake his head and say it would choke him if he tried to eat, and get up and crawl upder the house, and ahd mutter nearly all night. He did hate to see me shoot. Sold him finally, when I reformed. £ouldn’t do any shooting after that, of course. Well, I sold the dog to a hunting friend, who was a splendid shot, and you talk about a dog’s undying fidelity and love for his master! Three days after I sold that dog I met him in the street. - Called him by name and put out my hand to pat him. I’ll eat a wire cartridge if he didn’t back off a few steps, look at me steadily, as though he never saw me before in all his life, stuck his tail straight out, raised his fore foot, and male a dead point on me and then walked away to the other side of tho street. Cut me dead. And he never spoke to me again.