The pork roast, with potatoes and carrots, smothered in gravy, was in the oven.
My good friend and hunting buddy was to arrive from Bridge Lake around 6 p.m. We had planned to hunt whitetail deer and geese.
It was late fall and snowing.
By 7 p.m. I started to worry; 8 p.m. was worse.
Steve had seven stents in his heart, the last one was from trying to load a nice 4-point buck into his truck.
At 8: 30 p.m., I called his wife in North Van. Steve was found by friends two doors down who noticed the continuously flashing parking lights on his new Dodge Ram.
Steve had suffered a fatal heart attack. He had the trailer loaded with all the decoys, shotgun and coolers. It was cold. He had tumbled out of the vehicle and onto the snow covered ground. When found, Rocky, Steve’s faithful Lab-cross dog was lying on his body. He wouldn’t move.
Related: Column: Hunting season just around the corner
Resuscitation didn’t help. I was broken hearted to lose such a wonderful person/hunter/angler/fine-family man, as were all his buddies at Bridge Lake and One Hundred Mile.
For the outdoor person, next to his rods, reels, shotgun and rifle is his hunting dog. They are always by your side, wet and cold in the blind or retrieving mallards. At your feet, pretending to be snoozin’ but watching your every move.
In times of trouble, they are your sympathizer. When you miss that easy shot grouse hunting, come fall, they look at you as if to say, “What happened ol’ man, you said you never missed.”
Dogs also have that uncanny ability to know when you’re not well, to sniff out cancer (from your breath), or read your every move. Rocky was such a dog, to Steve’s last breath.
Related: Column: An homage to our four-legged pals
Another heartwarming story comes out of the provincial police files, of a big, burly Scottish officer stationed at Courtney many years ago. Sgt. Dan Tweedhope and his German Shepherd Salty. Dan was known far and wide on the B.C. coast for his bravery, doing his duty, courage and fairness in dealing with lawbreakers. Unfortunately, on a hot summer day with one of the worst wildfires known in Campbell River, he single-handedly dragged a heavy pump up a trail, not knowing his lungs were full of smoke. Suffering forced retirement and, two years later, he passed at age of 50.
Salty mourned so much after Sgt. Dan’s passing he had to be put down.
We often hear stories of heart bypass surgery, stents and problems with the ol’ ticker. Lifestyle and lack of exercise all contribute to a stroke or heart attack.
Get in shape before going afield. Hell, I had a mild stroke last week, my second, and I’m in the bush cutting firewood all the time. If we should seek our blessings –well just look –they’re all around. Count a few of your blessings. Think of how fortunate we are; in time of trouble we have great doctors, nurses and ultra-modern methods to diagnose our health.
Great hunting, Steve, beyond the wild blue yonder! Forever in our hearts.
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