Weasel Larry and his trusted companion Weasel Bailey
May 1998 - January 2005
As I pulled off of Highway 73 and headed north on I90-94 toward Camp Weasel, I couldn't help but feel the difference. For the first time in over 7 years Baily wasn't riding shotgun for me. It all happened so fast that it still feels like a bad dream. On Dec. 31 we were enjoying our last pheasant hunt of the year together and by Jan. 12th she was gone. Despite having a Lyme Disease shot and being protected by Bio-Spot she has contracted a tick related disease which destroyed her kidneys. After three days in the animal hospital it became apparent that the only humane thing to do was to put her down. The ice fishing trip to Camp Weasel had been planned for weeks, and Weaselette Jan thought it would be good for me to get away and try to forget about the past few days. The 41/2 hour trip was filled with tears and smiles as I sifted through the many memories I have of Baily. I remember her first hunting trip to Iowa. She was barely 6 months old. During that 4 day hunt I watched a tail chasing puppy become a pheasant hunting machine. By day 4 there wasn't time for play as she put her nose to the ground and began flushing birds. She had a knack for catching roosters on the ground. I remember one snow covered day in So. Dakota when she caught two roosters before Weasel Gene and I fired a shot. She did it again at Holmes Creek Hunting Preserve, catching two fat pen raised birds before we fired a shot. On our trip to So. Dakota last fall, she picked one out a fence line. But for every hunting memory of Baily there is also a non hunting memory. Her cheerful disposition and loving personality could light up a room. Baily liked everyone and everyone liked Baily. She added so much to the trips to camp. She was always bringing you her rope for a game of tug of war, or a ball for you to throw for her. She was at her best around the evening campfires with her head in your lap and those big brown eyes looking up at you. I.ve had a lot of good dogs over the years, and hope to have a couple more before I put away my guns. But there will only be one great dog. There will never be another Baily. Wherever shes hunting I hope the sky is full of mallards and the marshes full of roosters. Catch one for me pal, I miss you.