The last few months, if not years have been tough on myself, and the family. We’ve had health issues both with one of my children, and our Gordon setter Abbey. My daughter sprung back and is her usual feral self once more. Time fading since her illness. However Abbey had her tumor come back. Between the two similar treatments, an absolute roller coaster of emotions and lots of time. In November we had to put Abbey down, and I’m still personally struggling with the loss.
We got Abbey in the summer of 2013. My father was looking for another setter to augment his English setter, when he started down the path of looking at Gordon setters. The largest of the setter family and bred to stay inside of shotgun range, this was appealing to me. I adore big dogs, and hunting with a pointing breed felt like playing the game with cheat codes enabled. This, after personally having been the dog for so many years for my father while hunting ruffed grouse in my home state of Pennsylvania. When you spend the time as a hunting human doing all of the brush busting yourself — you miss a good amount of shots while ensnared in brambles.
So when a breeder had a litter of Gordon Setters in Mount Jewett, Pennsylvania and my dad was interested, I threw in a deposit as well. Abbey was the biggest female of the litter, and a bit of a lunk. A big dog deserves a big name, and we registered her as Pinelake Abbey Ale — a little bit of a homage to the Ommegang Abbey Ale, one of my favorite beers. Gordons being ‘one owner’ dogs that definitely attach to a single person — she attached to me. It was exactly what I needed, and now that it’s gone it’s left an absolutely gaping hole in my life. Who knew that I needed a nearly 70lb weighted blanket of a dog, pressing into me during every moment of our shared lives? Our Llewellin setter has no such loyalties. She would hold the flashlight for a robber if it meant free pets.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a dog quite so devoted. She was a dog of firsts, technically my first dog as an adult away from home. She was the first dog that I hunted blue grouse and sage grouse over. We went ptarmigan hunting together, she rode countless thousands of miles next to me in the truck between Colorado and Pennsylvania, sprawled out on the garage floor as I worked on our camp in the mountains. Abbey was also physical, pressing into me when she needed something or just wanted to be close. A bear sized paw bearing down on my leg, a head set on my knee slobbering on my dress clothes.
During a time in my life when I’d spent so much time at work under pretty intense pressure — Abbey was always there. Tongue lolling, ready for a hike in the mountains or to lounge on the floor with me as I just stared at the ceiling contemplating life’s great mysteries while scruffing her big ears.
Perhaps the biggest part of the loss that hurts me is Abbey was reminiscent of one of my childhood dogs, a Golden retriever that was built similarly — big and lumbering. But had a hunting instinct. She had an off switch and would lounge about the house but would also ride around in the truck — until it would stop and she’d be a ticking time bomb before she’d power vomit inside my dad’s Jeep Cherokee. Abbey was a reminder of the big goofy dogs of my early years, but she chose me. She was different. Seemingly every outdoor person I met over the age of 60 seemed to be astounded that Gordon setters still existed, or that anyone would want a dog that rarely listened to anyone but their owner. Going to the Easton Waterfowl Festival in Maryland when we lived on the east coast everyone wanted to talk to us about her. But to me she was more than a curiosity. She was unique, yes, but also familiar and comforting.
I am not a religious man, but the notion of a heaven has an appeal if you think you’d get to see all your dogs again. It would be hard to say no to walking in the woods or side-hilling a mountain with Abbey again. The idea that somewhere Abbey, Winnie, Maybelline, Tiger, Kudo, Buster, Luci, and the rest of our dogs are chasing birds or laying enjoying the summertime sun is awfully satisfying.
I want to wish a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the medical team at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, Dr. Shawn Wayment at Animal Care Center in Castle Pines, Animal Emergency and Specialty Center (AESC) for working with us on scans, and TruPanion for working with us on pet insurance — something I never thought I’d really need. We had a stellar medical team that tried their very best and gave us more time with Abbey, which is all I could have asked of them.
