Tucker - Another Companion in the Hogan

By Dennis Lantz

Tucker was loyal, loving and free. He was also a great hunter. Because life is full of conflicting notions, I can call him a killer and still say that he was one of the best dogs ever.

He was a light-haired golden retriever with an unknown smattering of other genes. His tail curled, not quite like a Samoyed or Chow Chow. I suppose it could have been from inbreeding, but he wasn’t stupid or deformed. I’d call him unique. We bonded. He was my best friend for a time.

Tucker came to my family as a puppy and theoretically he was my sister, Vivian’s dog. But I raised him and specifically taught him nothing. At the time I thought training dogs was bending them to my will. I wanted him to feel free to be himself… and I had no idea how to train a dog.

Even as a puppy he laid down a lot. That is how he got his name. My cousin John declared that the little guy looked all tuckered out. It stuck. For the first couple of weeks Tucker stayed with me in the trailer. He slept on my chest and I tend to think some of my lazy energy wore off onto his spirit.

I can’t recall how old he was in 1995, but I’d guess maybe six or seven. During the first month of our stay in Gentlewoods, he spent time with Mark and me, but as soon as the sun started to set he ventured back to the house for supper... or perhaps he went on some night excursions. Such ended up being his downfall, but that is another story and one I am not going to write.

He came and went at his own pleasure. Sometimes he stayed for the entire day. Other times I wouldn’t see him unless I went to the house. But after I cleaned out a spot under my bed, he began spending the night.

In the following entries from the Hogan Journal it may appear that Tucker did nothing more than kill woodland creatures. But he shared our adventure. He was another companion.

A good dog is a blessing. And, despite what you may think of his natural aggression, Tucker was a good dog.

 

6/1 - Tucker came down with me late in the day and stayed around though he refused to get excited when we wanted him to play. He just laid there, content. If there was ever anyone on an incarnation of pure ease, it is Tucker.

6/10 - I almost forgot to mention the craziest event of the day. On my way down from the house the first time, Tucker tagged along. Right near the junk Volkswagon Rabbit he kicked up a mother turkey and her young ones. He killed one of the little ones. I felt bad, but nature is often harsh. He or some other animal or bird will eat it. He carried it with him to the hogan and sat admiring his prize for some time. At length, he moved it and either ate it or hid it. I am not sure where it went.

Then, on the second trip up to the house we went a different way. Up the trail toward Hilliker’s field by the pond, we kicked the turkeys up again. I yelled at Tucker not to chase them because I didn’t want him to kill another little one. The mother turkey ran straight at me and then, not twelve feet away, took to flight over my head. The little ones are sure getting a lot of wing practice. Judging from the size of the bird Tucker got, they cannot be more than a few weeks old, yet they flew with great strength. I don’t know how old they really are…

6/13 – Tucker got a small woodchuck. He also swam around in the pond for quite a while, approaching the boat at one point and then turning away. (note: we were over at the Big Pond… Elliott’s Pond)

Tucker got a second woodchuck in the field by the woods. It was a big one. He barked at this one several times, something he generally doesn’t do. Mark and I went to investigate. The little one he got earlier squeaked, this one didn’t. I think he left the little one at the pond. A waste, but that is sometimes nature too. Something will devour it.

7/1 - I gave Tucker a haircut with scissors. It came out spotty, but I know it serves him well. It was just too hot to have that much hair. I will try to get someone to take a picture of him. I think he looks good. Unique. Tucker had a bad experience with an incompetent veterinarian a couple years back. She had to shave him and used electric clippers that hardly cut at all. I held him while she cut… she took frequent breaks to slip upstairs to get a nip to drink (methinks). Now if he hears electric clippers he runs away. But if I cut his hair with scissors, he just lays there and lets me. I do one side and then I roll him over and do the other. It bothers him not at all.

7/5 – (7/8/2020 note – I’d stayed at the house for a couple of days and was longing to get back to the woods.)  I walked down the road with Tucker. I felt very blue. Like a hollow shell. I was empty and lonely. I sang out loud, making up song lyrics and was cheered somewhat by that. The beautiful scenery helped too. I walked with my eyes closed as I went down the road. Tucker is an awesome companion. He doesn’t mind my singing. As I said before, I have a strong urge to write a book. Somehow I must fit writing into the grand scheme of my life. I will take notes and jot down scene material. Writing is a craft and every little bit of practice helps.

7/7 – Mark and I took a walk with Tucker to check out our vision quest circles. It was fun reliving the experience. Then we found the berries. Black raspberries and red raspberries were out in abundance. It was glorious. We collected handfuls and ate them all at once… then more handfuls and ate again. Thank you, Great Spirit.

… Tucker is digging at a fresh hole inside Mark’s vision quest circle. He must have chased an animal down it.

7/10 – I walked in the woods with Tucker. I was barefoot. I sat by the apple tree on the curve just south of the bridge and Tucker scared up a turkey hen and babies. The hen flew over and I think she had a beard. I’d like to see her again to double check. I cut down maple and ash saplings. One is large enough for a bow stave. I ate raspberries and more cattail top. The kids were playing in the pool and I wanted to join them. Dr. Dyer would have said go for it and I almost did, but the pool is not level and will probably fall soon. I didn’t want to make it happen today.  I made a frog spear and walked around the pond by the house. I saw only one frog in a spot that I couldn’t reach.

I tasted what I am sure is water cress, but then spit it out because it tasted good! The books say it is strong tasting, but good. This was mild. I am almost 100% sure it is watercress and will likely eat more.

Tucker killed three or four baby rabbits. He had the first one in the woods and it was not dead. I went to kill it with my knife and it acted lively enough to survive. I let it alone and took Tucker away. He brought another one into the living room and this was too far injured. I took it outside and killed it. Later I heard more squeaking and saw him. The nest was down near the garage. I shut him inside and hoped he would forget about them.

7/12 - Tucker got a baby raccoon. I think he buried it.

7/18 - Tucker is spending more and more time down here. I cleaned space under my bed so this is now his bed and it has become much bigger. It isn’t as difficult for him to enter his bed like it was before.

7/19 - We came back down to woods and carved out more chess pieces. We finished rough rooks and cut pieces for pawns. Then I took Tucker for a walk because he looked bored or depressed. We went up to Elliott’s corn. He nosed around chasing imaginary animals and I ate raspberries. Several crows flew out of tree where earlier I had seen them. I will look to see if there is nest there tomorrow. I came back knowing that Mark would be hiding somewhere. Tucker and I began playing a game of chase and he was way up the trail ahead of me. He sniffed out Mark from behind the second hurdle tree and we proceeded to play Chase Tucker. Mark was serious in that pursuit, running full out. I jogged. At one point Tucker chased him as he sprinted up the pathway so the game of Chase Tucker turned into a brief game of Chase Mark. It was good to get rid of a bit of energy. We haven’t done enough of that lately. That may be why we are remaining so tired.

7/8/2020 – I have many other tales about Tucker that I could tell. He came to investigate our star spinning. For years, he and I walked the woods. He obviously wasn’t perfect. He killed wandering cats as often as he did other animals. But he always comforted me when I was feeling anxious or depressed. Once, after the snow from the blizzard of ’93 had hardened with a crusty top, we walked through fields and woods beneath a full moon. Occasionally I would fall through the crust and he would come to stand near as I climbed back out.

One sub-zero February evening, Jon and I decided to do a little winter survival expedition. Down below Hilliker’s pond, near Shaffer’s line, we built a triangular lean-to with hemlock limbs and forest debris. In the center was a fire pit. Our beds lined two sides and our gear and firewood occupied the other. A small tunnel led in and out of the shelter.

Outside it was cold. Nostril-hair freezing cold. Inside was cozy and we talked for a time and then lay down to sleep. Tucker crawled into the shelter and lay beside the fire. He was a thick haired dog and normally would not have been so close to the flames. The three of us fell asleep, satisfied and warm. At some time in the early morning hours we realized that we hadn’t told anyone what we were doing or where we were going. So we hiked back to the house. But it wasn’t because we were cold. 

I’m sure Tucker would have stayed by the fire all night.

Until next time,

Read, Learn, Live 

Tucker spent much time with us at the hogan

Tucker as a puppy