Apologies once again or such along layoff between blog posts. I guess as it gets into spring and summer, especially in Florida, there just isn’t as much to talk about regarding bird dogs. It’s just too damn hot.

Anyway, I wish I had something better to post about today, but I don’t. It’s a very sad day. I’m just going to share the post I made on my personal Facebook page and leave it at that.

TomBoy was a very special girl. She’ll always hold a special place in my heart.

Today I received that call that I didn’t want to receive but I knew would come some day.

This morning, TomBoy passed away peacefully with Jen by her side. As always, TomBoy did things at her pace and on her terms. We’re incredibly thankful that she slipped away without suffering and with knowing she was very loved.

The pick girl out of our first litter with Buffy and Tommy Boy, TomBoy always found a way to stand out. She loved her birds from the get-go, and was the only puppy we’ve ever had that was more than willing to go off into a corner of the yard and hang out. Alone. What 5 week old puppy does that? Just TomBoy. And it followed through when she was all grown up – the only Vizsla we’ve ever had that was more than content to go into a room upstairs and hang out. With herself. All night.

In the field, as a young puppy/derby dog, she was good on her birds and ran pretty good, but I’ll be honest – she was a little freaking bitch. God help me if she managed to run down a bird and get it in her mouth. Our brace at that point was OVER. Because that little brat was not going to bring it back. I had times where she would get a bird and literally hide behind trees so I couldn’t find her. When time was up, she never came in – I had to direct her towards the breakaway and hope someone there would be able to catch her. Incorrigible and always doing things her own way. She knew what she could get away with, and always took full advantage. By the time she turned 2, the general consensus regarding her potential as a broke dog could be summed up as follows:

“Yeah. Good luck breaking that little asshole.”
And that was me talking! To myself!!

Which is why what followed surprised the hell out of everyone! TomBoy absolutely blossomed as a gun dog. I quickly learned that she would resist and fight you and needed some convincing, and there was a definite battle of wills – but once she bought into the new game we were playing, she was absolutely all in. She went from an awful little derby dog to probably the most reliable field trial dog I’ve ever competed. She went from a point-stealing jerk to a dog with a nearly-perfect honor. And a perfect retrieve, the only dog I have ran that did not fail a single retrieving callback in her entire career.

She finished her DC and AFC around 4 years of age, and then it was like – what else are we going to do? That’s when I learned why people keep running finished dogs. She ran as a competitive broke dog for 9 seasons, finishing in the Amateur top 10 in the last 8 – while still finding time to produce 2 litters of wonderful pups.

I covered thousands and thousands of miles with that dog. Hunted and competed in several different states. She was the best travel companion I could have asked for. The journey I made with her isn’t one I could ever trade for anything. Most of it wouldn’t have happened if I had decided to hang her up as soon as she finished. I have so many great memories of her AFTER she finished that I’m so happy to have. She was a helluva field trial dog and a fantastic hunting dog. Her one trip to South Dakota resulted in her basically showing the guide’s dogs how it was done. Repeatedly. 😊

At home, I don’t even know how to describe her. She was little miss bossy britches. When it was dinner time, she let you know. Up until her last day, she was barking and hopping and running to her food dish to get her meal. At Jen’s house, she let everyone in the neighborhood know what she thought – to the point that Jen had to lock her inside. Apparently, she was telling the neighbors what she thought. Every. Day. All. Day. Long.

When she was with me, she demanded space under the covers, in my lap. And if there was anyone there in her place, she would sit down and stare at me – until I pushed them aside and gave her her rightful place. She had the best Jedi mind trick stare, hands down. I could never say no. I treasured every moment she was with me. When a dog is well past 15, you have to.

I’m not sure what else to say. There’s a hole that will never be filled. TomBoy was weird and quirky and stubborn and gave zero f*cks – and was about as special and as awesome a dog as we could have ever asked for.

Miss TomBoy, thanks for the ride. Jen and I were blessed to have you with us for so long.

TB, it was my great honor to be your trainer and handler. So many wonderful memories. You were second to none and it was my great privilege to run you. You taught me far more than I ever taught you. Thank you for letting me walk behind you and watch you do your thing.

In the words of Darcy DuVal Hodges and Lane Hodges, who first coined the nickname “TB”, we’re gonna miss those ‘velvet ears’ of yours.

DC AFC SoCo’s Enchanted One MHA 07/02/07-06/06/23