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It's cutting them loose and having the pack run the rabbit until it gives up and goes in a hole or gets caught. And although the dogs usually don't catch it, they run like they want to. Just me and my pack of hounds, in any condition, on any day, in the roughest places I can find . . .

Sunday, April 19, 2015

The Longest Walk

The judge yells, handle your dogs. The cast is over. You catch your dog and start back to the truck. You know the score is close. Your stomach is knotted. Your head aches. All the fun of the cast is gone. Pressure is thicker than the thickest fog. 

You are trying to go over the scoring one more time. You can't remember how many checks the yellow collar dog had after the last race. The handlers are making small talk, but you can't concentrate. All that work, training for months, and dreaming, and hoping comes down to the next few minutes. You just want to get this over with. Your heart is pounding like a big bass drum.

Questions pound your brain. Did I get that last check? How much were they scoring that pink collar? I know my dog sounded good, but was it enough? What dog was that with the chop mouth that I heard so much at the end? I know my dog was leading, but did yellow collar catch me? 

It's the longest walk.




Picture by Jeff Allen at 2015 World Hunt

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