Blue Crab Summers

We planned ahead of Beaufort’s passing to spend the entire next day on the water. Because that’s just what people do that grow up on the water—whether to mend their souls, rid their anger, or celebrate life—the water’s just a part of it all. We loaded up the War Eagle with our black lab Moultrie, 6 good crab lines, an 8′ spread beach umbrella (for the dog and his black coat), and an FM radio.

We headed down river to the salt and cut across to my husband’s long time fishing spot spent with his dad and brother and got to work. For probably 45 minutes straight, we couldn’t even get the 5th and 6th lines out for the number of crabs that kept coming up on the first 4!

Moultrie had a splendid time trying to figure out just what was so special on the end of the line—because surely it was the raw chicken. After one or two got loose in the boat, he seemed more content to stay put. And after a day of awesome creek swimming in between crabbing sessions, it became suddenly apparent our little black dog, now 2 and a half years old, really isn’t our little black dog anymore. He’s a beast!

Even last duck season, at around 20 months, he still seemed smaller than he is now and pulling him into the boat was never a struggle. In fact, to see him swim to the edge and flawlessly pull his back legs up underneath himself while knowing my husband would pull him in was such an act of teamwork. But now? He still does what he was trained to do, but why force it? So, Moultrie and my husband have a surprise early duck season gift on the way!

We’ve got another big crabbing weekend planned in 2 weeks and we’ll be trying the ladder out then. We’ll let you know how it works.

My Sweet Beaufort has Passed On

To all of you who have known and loved my sweet Beaufort dog over the past 12 years, he is finally at rest. We were given the unsettling news just 4 weeks ago that the symptoms we’d been observing getting worse and worse over the past year weren’t just from old age, but from Degenerative Myelopathy. A terrible degenerative disease that works much like ALS or MS does in people by slowly degenerating the protective covering around his spinal cord, weakening and eventually paralyzing his legs from the back end forward. And while just 4 weeks ago, it was hard to swallow that the growing frequency of the symptoms we were watching were due to this; it has only become much more obvious, and at a much quicker rate, that this would be a very hard road for him to continue traveling and one that we did not wish to make him endure.

The decision does not come easily and it will continue to be hard as we face each day without him, but we do find great peace at knowing we could allow him to rest with such grace and dignity. He’s without a doubt the dog of my lifetime. There will be others but none that spent such great years with me. From high school, to college, to my first job, to finding my husband, and to the promise I was so honored to give him last May that we’d found our last home. My sweet dog endured 8 major moves over 12 years with me without anything short of a tail wag, and I’m so glad we could give him such a wonderful place to live his last year with a big, green yard, and a great river for boat rides with wind-filled ears and beautiful sunsets for those sage, old eyes to soak up.

He’s been my confidant and my bodyguard taking on his role as a protector from the day he and I moved out on our own. He’s stood by my side, circled in front to protect me from approaching strangers, and been dutifully waiting behind for me at home every day. It was a privilege to know him, love him, and share him with so many great people along the way.

“To call him a dog hardly seems to do him justice, though inasmuch as he had four legs, a tail, and barked, I admit he was, to all outward appearances. But to those who knew him well, he was a perfect gentleman.” Hermione Gingold