The Bounty Hunter Bloodhounds
Well, it’s time to write the first blog entry for BHD store launch…so here I sit, surrounded by a chorus of chomp, slurp, crunch, scrrrrape sounds made by jowls and jaws vs. marrow bones.
You’ve arrived here at the shop either by random clicking or more likely, by a mutual interest and love of hounds, and/or dogs in general. I’m glad you’re here.
I'd like to introduce you to the BHD Hounds, and what better way is there than sharing a fun little tale? This one sums up the personalities of four of them pretty well. (I’ll acquaint you with the rest of them later.)
The Slider…
It was winter, very early 2020, and as any good mishap would have it, I was dressed for a 70-degree house, standing outside in a 19-degree morning with a stupid look on my face. Tank top. Shorts. Flip flops. No phone. No hide-a-key. No window open, not even a crack. Well, crap.
I stood there looking through the sliding glass door where four bloodhounds stared back. I had only stepped outside to quickly grab a few of their toys off the deck, when one of them knocked the large wooden dowel back into the door’s track. Now, tell me this: If I have to carefully maneuver the stick into place in the track (it’s a very close fit), how does one of them just smack it with a foot and BAM, I’m locked out in the cold?! Thumbs might be overrated.
I yanked on the handle a few times, as if that would help.
I complained, as if that would help.
I cussed a bit. I think that actually helped.
“You guys! Let me in!” I even grumbled, getting colder by the second. The hounds knew something was definitely off and got excited, undoubtedly wondering why I was being so weird. Now, let me add, we had only lived in this house a very short time, and the sliding glass door was a new concept to the pack. Demery started jumping up and down, wagging her tail profusely. Kenda started barking and whooo-wooooing. Boone was wagging his whole body and kept jumping up to be eye-level with me, staring at my face through the glass. Scarlett, The Matriarch, was just looking at me with her ever-cool, take-it-all-in expression; unmoved and not partaking of the others’ elation.
“Let me in!” I begged, still fiddling with the door handle, trying to figure out who to contact (and how with no phone). I contemplated smoke-signals, and which window to break, and with what. All seemed like terrible ideas. The puppies downstairs heard the commotion, and they took to howling…thirteen little baby hound voices amping-up the energy of the situation even more.
“At least if they’re howling, they’re not destroying anything,” I thought.
I looked quickly across the house as if there might be some window ajar, all the while knowing full-well everything was locked-tight to keep the cold, intruders, and idiots out.
The thought struck me just then, “Maybe they can let me in!” Why not? “Okay, come here!” I excitedly pointed to the dowel that was blocking the door from opening. If they knocked it in, maybe I could get them to get it out. “Here, get this! Get this!” I pointed, trying to incite them to paw at the rod.
Scarlett took a thoughtful look into my eyes. She looked from my face to the ground where I was pointing, and it gave me a glimmer of hope. “Yes! Good, Scar, yes! Get it!” But then she looked to the door handle…then back to my face…and then to the kitchen…
“Oh, no!!! No, don’t you dare!” I shouted, realizing her thoughts were NOT headed in the direction I was hoping.
She looked at me once more and I could absolutely see the conniving cogs turning, “Mom’s out there. She can’t get in. Kitchen is fair-game.” With that, she turned and walked confidently out of view, “Queen to bishop-6; your move, mom.”
I didn’t need to hear the rummaging sounds to know she was helping herself to a smorgasbord at the expense of my mishap, but ohhhh, hear the slurping, I did! “Scarrrrrrrlettttttt!!!”
I amped-up my instruction to the three remaining, “Here! Here! Get this, get this! Right here!!!” pointing at the rod in the track. A hint of desperation sounded in my voice as I envisioned of the rest of them abandoning me for the kitchen, “Here! Here!”
Demery got even crazier and started running circles around the dining room table, ears flying, chairs bumping out of position, strange squealing sounds coming out of her flapping lips. That’s very helpful, thanks.
Kenda barked and howled louder, jumping up on the glass, scratching at it and pawing the handle. At least she’s trying.
Boone took a steady look at my face with his beautiful hazel eyes and then followed where I was pointing. He then pawed at the dowel, very deliberately…and kept at it until he worked it loose from the track! It popped right out! Just like that! I couldn’t believe it!
As I cheered, Boone jumped toward the door opening, wild with expectation. He was wagging his whole body, face smiling. “Good boy!!!! Good Boone-boy!!!!” I cheered loudly, sliding the door open. “You saved the day, buddy!”
Demery and Kenda jumped on me while I hugged him, and made all sorts of racket, all of us celebrating…
That’s when I looked up to see Scarlett…
In the kitchen…
Around her splayed a variety of empty containers scattered about and crumbs everywhere across the floor…something white on her nose…
She looked almost disappointed that I’d made it back inside so soon.
“Checkmate, kid! Gameover!” I declared, laughing.
She gave me one more look as she slowly exited the kitchen, “Checkmate? I already ate your lunch, mom,” I’m certain she said. She then took up her spot on the couch in front of the fireplace.
The moral of the story is, have a hide-a-key, yes, but also that bloodhounds are loving, joyful, and caring creatures. They’re always ready for fun and they find excitement in the little things—anything. Everything. You could say they’re the best cheerleaders ever. Even if you fall down the stairs, they are there cheering and celebrating like it was the coolest thing they’ve ever seen. “Yay! Do it again! Do it again! That was awesome!” jumping up and down on your back while you decide if you need to call 911.
And, despite what some bewitched/mal-informed people may say—bloodsters are also VERY smart, and problem-solvers, too.
Some are smart like Boone…helpful and selfless, using his wits to solve human problems when asked to do so, and taking great joy in it…
Others are smart like Scarlett… capitalizing on human problems to help herself…and undeniably taking great joy in that.
How can a person not love hounds?
So, now you’ve had a brief intro to the Bounty Hunter Bloodhounds. You’ll be hearing more about their antics, training, search and rescue, and more here in this blog. I hope to see you back here!
Scarlett: The Matriarch. Scent-Discriminate Mantrailer. Works trails out to 8 days old (tested and proven so far, will be testing her nose on older trails to come). She’s my main SAR K-9. Mother of working pups in law enforcement, SAR, and game recovery. Scary-smart sidekick and counter-surfing champion. Play-Bow master. Ask her “Where does he live?” and she will show you. (--More on that later.)
Boone: "Big Papa." Scent-Discriminate Mantrailer. Comes from a long lineage of working law enforcement hounds. Father of working pups in law enforcement, SAR, and game recovery. Kindest, happiest fella. Body-wagging extraordinaire. Favorite pastime: The Stealth Bomb. (--More on that later.)
Kenda: “Sharky.” Named after Detective Joe Kenda, my my my. Scent-Discriminate Mantrailer. Currently training to test for certification. Working trails out to 50-hours old so far. Favorite pastime: Border Patrol here on the property; she knows every vehicle and can hear the specific ones she wants to chase from a quarter mile away. Devout implementer of “The Trust Fall.” (--Yes, more on this later as well!)
Demery: My French Beauty…with a BEAST voice. No really, she sounds like a coyote on crack at times. Scent-Discriminate Mantrailer. Currently training toward SAR certification, and proving to be a great working dog. Former nickname: "The Flying Nun." Fears: Nothing. (--Except the smoke alarm.) Eats: Everything (--except rice, rice is gross.)
Doss: "The Boss." Gigantic baby boy of Scarlett x Boone. Nose Dragon genetics! Just began training and WOW. It won’t be long until he is out finding the lost! Named after Desmond Doss, the Medal of Honor winner. (Go watch Hacksaw Ridge, have tissue handy.) Body-wagging extraordinaire like his papa. Chapstick enthusiast. Lip-pout champion of the world. Expert at sharing. (Photos for proof coming soon to a blog post near you.)
Scully: Doss’s sister, the Dewlap Queen. Will begin training soon. Shows all the makings of a BHD Nose Dragon… In the meantime, current skillset: sneak-attacks, hiding behind objects smaller than her, implementing the long-hold-play-bow (genetically passed to her from her mother), giving the side-eye, sleeping in, fishing.
Lavena: Scully’s sister, "The Scientist." (--this is too much to sum up, I’ll have to write about it.) Night owl, comedian, energizer bunny. Spends part of her walks on her hind legs, leaping with excitement. This pup also shows all the makings of a darn good Nose Dragon, and will make her training debut very soon.
Carmel: Lavena’s sister. “Little Scar.” Spitting image of her mom. Lavena’s best friend. Staring Contest Champ. Equipped with fully-automatic tongue that has frog-like reach to get your face from ridiculous distance away, and not only that, but somehow can lick your mouth when you’re talking about 3 times before you can even react and save yourself. It’s borderline miraculous. She, too, is born with the Nose Dragon genetics and will join the pack as a SAR hound in the future.
Thanks for reading my blog! If you enjoyed this, please share it! Check out my other hound stories here and watch for new posts that will likely give you a chuckle at my expense! While you’re here, please take a look at my pet portraits page and share with your friends! If you feel like perusing my k9 lovers t-shirts, use discount code THANKYOU15 for an additional 15% off the already killer sale prices! The hounds and I truly think you for helping our small business grow!