OkcPets Magazine January 2022

January/February 2022 • OKC Pets 19 S crunch scrunch, jingle jingle, click clack. Those were the sounds that grew familiar to me while growing up in my family’s 1960s rambling ranch-style home. I was hearing heavy canvas rubbing together, zippered compartments, and the boots of my dad’s flight suit as he walked down the long hall to my bedroom. I dreaded those sounds because I knew it meant my dad was flying with the Air National Guard and would be leaving for the morning, weeks, or sometimes months, depending on his orders. Each time he would leave to fly, it was very early in the morning, and we would all be deep in our dreams. He would come to my bed, lean over and tell me he loved me, give me a kiss, and then say, “Take care of the dogs.” I was very young during the Vietnam War, and I truly did not understand the magnitude of Dad’s departures or the true meaning behind the phrase “take care of the dogs.” My dad was larger than life, not only in stature but in his presence. He was an avid quail and pheasant hunter, and we raised English Setters for his sporting adven- tures. Those dogs were never meant to be pets but were working dogs. Although we loved, trained, and cared for the dogs, they were not allowed to sleep in the house. Af- ter all, they needed to be acclimated to the cold weather and were bred to be outdoor working dogs. We trained them using pos- itive reinforcement, love, and repetition. It was magical to watch the dogs work with my dad. He had a relationship, a bond with each and every pup. I looked forward to spending one-on-one time with my dad. There was one particular dog, the best trained of our dogs, the dog all hunters wanted their dogs to emulate. He was a master at hunting and a beautiful English Setter specimen. Spot was white with one large black spot on his back and black surrounding each eye. I have many, many memories of Spot and our antics that we shared, but I would like to revisit one par- ticular life-changing experience. “I had to be strong” We were experiencing a heavy snowstorm with bitter cold temperatures. You could hear the north wind howling as it came up across our pond toward our home. That is a familiar sound if you have lived in Okla- homa. Spot and I were both in our teenage years, and my parents had separated. I felt as if my world had flipped. I was perplexed about how my dad could leave us and how he could leave his dogs. Spot had grown Writing in Fur by Karen Dugan Holman, B.S., B.S.E., M.S. Spot with Karen’s father Kenneth Dugan, 1978