Sporting Classics Digital

S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S 6 4 dog/field trial world roughly from 1940 to 1980 – this book has few equals. The legends are here, yes, but so too are the rogues and rascals, and Allen brings them to life in all their warty glory. His essay "Class!" is perhaps the definitive statement on that most elusive and desirable of qualities in a dog, while "Vick's Hotel" is a powerful memoir of growing up in the ferociously segregated South – and learning an enduring lesson about the value of a man's dignity. If you're a dog person of any stripe, you need to read this book. S peaking of rogues and rascals, last November I lost my English setter, Ernie, to kidney failure at age 12½. He slipped away with his lovely head on my thigh and a tattered hunting vest draped over his wasted frame. We should all be granted so peaceful an exit. "Fortunate Son," it says on his FDSB registration. You can read into that what you will. And he was a rogue, albeit the most lovable, affectionate one you've ever met. It was impossible not to like Ernie. He was the impish kid who means well but is always getting into trouble, his "bad self" having once again gotten the better of him. You could almost hear him repeating the line made famous by comedian Flip Wilson: "The devil made me do it!" Literally until the end of his life, I could never get Ernie to heel on a slack lead for longer than about half-a-minute. He had to feel that tension, that pull; he had to push against the boundaries being imposed on him. He had to be Ernie. The thing was, he had a ton of talent. He was a strong bird- finder, he pointed with thrilling style and intensity, and while he wasn't the lightest dog on his feet, he had terrific animation. As a hunting buddy once observed, "Whenever I watch Ernie run, I'm half-afraid his tail's gonna break off." I've never seen a dog more willing to crash the heaviest, thorniest, nastiest cover than Ernie. After a day hunting grouse and woodcock, he'd come out looking like he'd gone 15 rounds with a bobcat, and he was like that from the time he was four or five months old. That should have told me something. When Ernie was about three, I thought he had a chance to be as good a dog as I've ever owned, maybe the best. But when you push the envelope as hard as he did, you're riding a fine line, and as the years went by he was increasingly inclined to cross it. He began to bump a lot of birds; not flushing them intentionally, mind you, but self-correcting once he'd established point and taking one step too many. I could holler Whoa! until I was blue in the face but if Ernie thought he could get better "location," as they say, he was going to take the chance. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. Or, more accurately, nothing I was willing to do to stop him (as I discussed on numerous rnie was an impish rogue, but he had a ton of talent. E work is stunning), even fiction. It's really a kind of high-end e-zine for admirers of class bird dogs and the competitions that honor them, with new content posted every couple months and all of it archived. The price for a subscription? Exactly what it costs to fire up your computer and type in the address. That's the dangerous thing about jumping on Strideaway: It's all too easy to lose track of time and find that the hour you budgeted has ballooned to two or three. At least in my line of work I can justify it as "research," sort of. Strideaway also offers several unique products, including note cards, window decals, "Setter Revenge" T-shirts and caps (in honor of Shadow Oak Bo's historic win of the 2013 National Championship), and a book that gets my highest recommendation, The Unforgettables and Other True Fables by Bill Allen. As an evocation of a time and place – Allen's milieu is the bird

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