Memories Continued
I have been around some form of fishing and hunting ever since I can remember. In my last blog I happened to mention our dog Flopsy as I recalled one of the many indelible memories I cherish concerning my dad Norman Floyd Ansel. Flopsy (a once-in-a-lifetime hunting dog) was not only the best bird dog I ever had the honor to hunt behind, she was a friend and trusty companion.
When my dad picked her from his friend Wilford (Bill) Brown’s litter she was the runt of the bunch. When you bent down to pet her, or pick her up, she would lay down on her back and want you to rub her belly. Thats how we came to name her Flopsy. She was part Irish Setter and part English Setter. Liver and white never looked so good on a dog. She was a natural and loved to hunt Monroe County ringnecks. Whenever my dads hunting buddies got wind that Flopsy was going to have a litter of pups, they would line up to get their pick. I often wonder if any of her blood line is still roaming the fields of Monroe County.
Flopsy not only hunted , but was a guard dog extraordinar, and a faithful family friend. I remember getting off the bus one day and my Mom meeting me at the door with the “22 rifle.” “Flopsy’s been fighting a huge woodchuck for several hours”, she anxiously said, “she needs your help!” I loaded the “22″ (on the run for the wheat field behind our house), where all heck was breaking loose. Flopsy and this 20 pound woodchuck had a 15 foot diameter circle of wheat trampled to the ground. They kept circling one another trying to get the advantage in this fight to the death. The reason I believe it was a fight to the finish is No.1 - both animals were bleeding from several places, No.2- they had been at it for hours, and No.3 -the woodchucks hole was right there and he had no intentions of diving for its safety. Not even the sight of me standing 10 feet away intimidated the old varmit. I couldn’t get a shot off for fear of hitting the dog, so I ended up wading right in the middle of the fracas, busting the gun barrel over Mr. Woodchucks head. Flopsy then got ahold of the back of his neck and it was all over. We triumphantly walked back to the house where we cleaned her wounds and gave her plenty of food and water.
I could go on and on about this wonderful gift that our family was blessed with for 13 short years. Flopsy spoiled us so much that no other dog could ever measure up after her death. I hope some of you reading this can relate to that “oh so special” “once-in-a-lifetime-bond” between man and his best friend. This will probably sound silly to most of you, but I hope there’s a place in Gods Kingdom for the Flopsy’s of the world. And wouldn’t it be great if she was with my Dad?
Mike