The Rose Garden

My favorite HamBone story--about two weeks after he'd gotten home from the vet and was getting more comfortable with his surroundings we missed him one afternoon. I called and called and banged his metal supper bowl, that usually brought him running, but no HamBone. I stayed up late, still no sign of my sweet boy. I finally went to bed and right on the edge of sleep, oh, about 2:00 am, there was a baying that sounded like the Baskerville Hounds! It was not just a bay, it was a triumphant bay, a bay of celebration, a jubilant bay! I ran and slung open the front door and there was HamBone with a baby opossum at his feet, it was still and appeared to not be alive. I was upset, I hate hunting in any form or fashion but he was, after all, a hound and bred to hunt. And he was soooooo happy and ecstatic that he'd done what he was supposed to do, he looked as if to be saying, "Look, mama!!! Look, look, look!! They said I couldn't do it but I did, I Can! LOOK!!!" So I said, "Good boy, HamBone," and walked over to rub his soft ears. That made him happy and he went on into his house. I went to tell John he might need to bury little opossum the next morning and then went back to make sure HamBone was safe in his house. He was and little opossum was nowhere to be seen. He'd apparently been "playing possum" and gotten the heck out of there asap. HamBone has never done that again. He pays no attention to the squirrels or the deer. #ahoundthatdoesnthuntisthehoundforme
And this is my favorite picture of HamBone because it looks like he fell down laughing! At some point we officially made him HamBone Weedman. From the very beginning I said he needed to regain his nobility. He has and then some! He rules this roost and I love to see him racing around the pond and running to meet us when we get home. Last year he was so frail and stayed in his house most of the time, this year he has bulked up and loves this cold weather, he dances and frolics. Yes, who knew? I'm in love with a hound. A hound that doesn't hunt!