Bodacious Bo The Pound Prince

By Pat Becker

Crossbred between English and German Shorthaired pointers, precocious puppy Bodacious Bo appears destined for fame in the world of fieldtrial champions. But misfortune strikes, pushing young Bo into a harsh world far different from the life he had been groomed for. He finds himself in the unforgiving world of nature where his instinctive skills as a sporting dog will be used for survival. Fate returns him to the complicated world of people, where he searches for a "forever home" and to fulfill his destiny as a champion in the world of sporting dogs. 'A captivating read for all dog lovers...a bittersweet tale of adventure, loss and love. The illustrations are charming!' - Marilyn King, Publisher TulsaPets Magazine & OKC Pets Magazine Tulsa, Oklahoma

• Language: English
• Publisher: Total Publishing
• Release date: Apr 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781633020412

Pat Becker

Pat Becker of Edmond, Oklahoma, has a career that has spanned movies, television and radio. She produced and narrated the award-winning series “The World of Dogs” for the Public Broadcasting Service. Bodacious Bo: The Pound Prince follows her first book, The Search for Paradise. Dog ownership and its responsibility have been an ongoing project and passion for the active owner of a variety of dogs. Currently, Pat produces and hosts the lively television show “Dog Talk” on KAUT Channel 43 in Oklahoma City.

Book preview

Bo

CHAPTER

1

A Prince Is Born

THE SUN WAS RISING ON WHAT WAS TO BE another beautiful summer morning in the Virginia countryside. A handsome rooster stood tall on a fence, threw out his chest, proudly arched his neck, and crowed loudly to the world.

Sunlight streamed like laser beams through the high windows of the whelping room, the large area where the pups were born. The light from the outside warmed the face of the man who lay sleeping on his side in the narrow bed adjacent to the large whelping box. Having just given birth to her litter of pups, a German Shorthaired Pointer was going about the business of counting little noses, cleaning little eyes and behinds, and relishing her accomplishment as a new mother.

The sad whines of the puppies roused the startled man. He sat up and squinted his eyes in the direction of the mother dog. As he reached for his glasses, he lightly scolded her: Queenie! You were supposed to wake me up when you were ready to have those pups.

A gentle, compassionate man, Bill Perry had bred and trained bird dogs for thirty years. He had a national reputation for training champion German Shorthaired Pointers. Well, I guess you didn’t need me anyway, he added. You’ve had enough practice at this. You’re the expert.

He sat and watched his dog lovingly tend to her new family. You’re well worth that expensive price tag, Queenie, he thought.

Queenie had been the fourth female dog that he had bought for the kennels. Bill and his employer, Denton Howell, saw that the shape of her body was flawless, her abilities extraordinary. Denton was more than happy to compensate the German kennel for—as the American dog magazines confirmed—one of the highest prices ever paid for a female sporting dog.

After a dynamic career, Queenie began her new duties producing outstanding litters. Through the years her pups had matured to become talented bird dogs with excellent temperaments. Wing Kennels had earned its superior reputation on the fame of many of her offspring. All the other female breeders at the kennels had good value as producers, but Queenie was the reigning monarch.

Bill had been lucky. The last few years had been the best in his life. He had met Denton Howell III, a smart businessman with a passion for quail hunting. Denton offered the trainer a partnership to set up and run a sizable bird dog kennel. Bill was excited over this opportunity.

Large, well-furnished kennels were expensive and had been out of Bill’s reach, so he had worked for other people all of his career in this business. He leased land several times, but eventually each of his locations had sold for more than he could afford to pay.

On the day the partnership agreement had been signed, Denton produced a bottle of champagne to toast the occasion. Do you always close your deals this way? Bill asked, impressed by the gesture.

Of course not! Denton replied. This, my friend, is a special occasion. The deal of the century. The completion of a dream for me.

Bill laughed. Oh really? I thought that was my line...my dream.

Ours then, Denton said raising his glass. Your dream is to run a top-line facility. My dream to have one...and have someone else do the work. And, Billy Boy, that is what will make us such good partners. By the way, a major blank in this agreement is yet to be filled in. I thought you were going to come up with a proper name for our project.

Oh, right....well..., Bill said sheepishly, I’ve thought of a name, but it’ll take some explaining.

Is this gonna be one of those far out, ‘only dog trainers understand’ type names? Denton asked lifting an eyebrow.

No, nothing like that. It’s just that we’re starting out with nothing. I mean, no physical facilities, no dogs, no prospective buyers...pretty much zero. So I figure that I own one half of zero.

I never thought of it that way, Denton said with a laugh, but you’re right. So, you want to call it Half of Zero?

No, Bill said, but...I drew a zero, which was also a circle...looks like a dome or a cover.

Now I’m gonna have to object to a name like Dome Kennels, Denton said laughing and pointing to his balding head.

Man! Bill said and threw his hands in the air. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

Okay, okay, Denton said trying to keep a straight face. No more explanations...please. Just tell me what we’re gonna call the darn kennels!

Well, I’d like to call it Wing...Wing Kennels, and use a half-circle as a tattoo for the dogs.

Bill could tell from the blank look on Denton’s face that he still didn’t get it. Don’t you see...the half-circle looks like the wing of a quail in flight.

The blank look was still there on Denton’s face.

Tell ya what, Bill, you name it whatever you want to. I never had much of an imagination for such things—and apparently yours is working overtime. I hope you put as much enthusiasm into the training of our pointers. He slapped the younger man on the back.

You can bank on it, Bill said with a wide grin.

The two men shared a mutual respect, which as Denton predicted had made them perfect partners in a successful business. Queenie’s offspring had been a part of that success the last several years.

Bill counted Queenie’s newest pups and scrutinized each. This was an important litter for him. Queenie had been bred to a high-powered, liver-colored English Pointer named Elbow’s King Louie.

A breeding trend among some of the owners of German Shorthaired Pointers had caught Bill’s eye. At several of the non-sanctioned field trials in the last few years, a few almost solid-white short-haireds were taking the honors. These dogs seemed heavier, leggier and quite focused. Their stride was huge, covering more ground with less effort. Some had definite German Shorthaired heads—others were more square-headed. Their ears were typically long and their tails were cropped. When questioned, their owners and trainers said that they were indeed German Shorthaired Pointers.

Bill had watched their progress for a couple of years, and they were amazingly consistent. Although Denton had strong doubts about crossbreeding, he had faith in Bill’s vision. The decision was made in favor of this breeding experiment between the German Shorthaired Queenie and the English Pointer Elbow’s King Louie.

Well, Queenie, looks like you’ve done it again! Bill said. They all seem healthy and beautiful...just like their mama. The trainer hugged the lovely female and continued to examine the pups.

They were indeed beautiful. Most of them were large, with chocolate-colored heads and white bodies. A trace of dark spots covered their bodies. Later, these spots would become more prominent.

Most of the pups would have noses longer than their father’s rather typical square profile of an English Pointer. To the non-breeder, that would have gone unnoticed since all puppies have little stubs for noses at birth. Bill, however, had seen hundreds of these babies at this stage and could easily tell. He was glad that they had shorthaired heads. That would please Denton.

Suddenly, Queenie whined and flopped onto her side. What’s wrong, girl? Bill asked, but he recognized her discomfort. This had happened before. The last puppy in a litter can arrive long after the others, and this seemed to be the case.

Queenie took a deep breath and strained against her pelvis. Sure enough, a little head popped out lying against two really long front legs. Bill grabbed a clean towel off the nearby table and assisted Queenie in her delivery of the latecomer.

The pup was a male, all white. Each side of his face was a dark-liver color, and the center was a wide, white blaze. On the top of his head was a large oblong spot—a signature marking from his father’s genes.

Well, it would seem that you are King’s son, all right, the trainer said. We’ll have to call you Prince something-or-other.

He cradled the puppy in his hand. He was the only one of his brothers and sisters with a split face. Denton would probably like him the least because of it, but Elbow Kennels would be thrilled that their English Pointer stud had left his mark.

Bill chuckled and said to himself: I’ll have to call Hal today. He’ll get a kick outta this. The trainer had known and worked with Hal Tipton years before. Hal had the good fortune of running the Elbow Kennels organization—the country’s most famous kennel for English Pointers.

The puppy struggled and whined. Queenie raised herself onto her haunches anxiously, spilling several little nursing critters into the folds of the blanket in the whelping box.

Sorry, Queenie...my mistake, Bill said. Here’s your baby. For the last pup born, he’s sure a sturdy one.

Bill stroked Queenie’s head as she lay down and nuzzled the pups back toward her. The princely pup found a seat at the counter and began to nurse