Winter's Last Hunt
The hurried footsteps of the hunter crunched the snowy ground as he rushed at the door. In his arms, clutched to his chest, a limp black mass bounced.
He hit the door with his shoulder. A loud crash reverberated through the cabin and silent forest. He lay the mass down on the floor and tore off his thick gloves. Grabbing the blanket from the bed, he pulled over the wooden dog’s bed from the corner. He jabbed the blanket into the corners of the bed and fluffed up the blanket.
Bending over, he took the labrador into his arms again and placed it on the blanket. He unbuttoned his coat and tossed it on the bed and paused as he looked at his red stained hands.
Davey! Oh Davey!
It all happened so fast. The hunter’s mind swirled like a maelstrom as he played the event back through his mind.
He had lined up the perfect shot. Davey crouched beside looking up at him. The shot woke up the early morning forest making birds streak out of the trees. The buck didn’t even have time to flinch. Satisfied that the kill was clean, he lowered his gun and nodded to Davey. This sent the jet-black labrador off almost as fast as the bullet that downed the deer. The hunter followed behind.
Before the hunter could get to the downed buck, he heard a low growl and then Davey yelped and went quiet. The hunter rushed to find a mountain lion standing over the dog’s body. He raised his rifle as the mountain lion bared its fangs and produced another warning growl. He lined up the shot on the animal, but when he started to pulled the trigger, Davey yelped again and started to move. The hunter, distracted by the dog’s cries, shot wide. The bullet ricocheted off a nearby tree spraying bark into the frigid air.
The surprised animal hissed and then dove into the forest.
Davey now lay in the soft blankets panting. The hunter gathered a bowl of water and a clean rag and knelt by the dog. He touched the damp cloth to the dog’s side causing the dog to whine.
“It’s alright, Davey. You’ll be ok. That ol’ mountain cat just took a good swipe at you is all.”
A dark glistening caught the hunter’s eye and he bent closer to the dog’s side. A large gash pulsed blood. He had to stop the bleeding. He grabbed another cloth and pressed it into the wound. The dog lifted its head, whined and growled. He stroked the dog’s head. Davey calmed and put his head back down.
He had little time to think. The drive back to town was at least an hour and a half. If he could stabilize Davey he was sure he would be able to make the trip. His cell phone was on the kitchen table. If things got bad, he could call the ranger station for help. But now, the most pressing matter was to stop the blood loss. He remembered he had a first aid kit out in the truck. It had gauze and pain relieving ointment. Maybe that would be enough.
Outside the cold air sucked the warmth from the hunter and he began to shiver. He rummaged around in his truck trying to locate the first aid kit. The wind blew stronger than before and it caused little ice crystals to dance within its current. Snow was falling faster. Finding the first aid kit wedged under the passenger seat, he made his way back to the cabin. He stopped before entering and stared at the sky. Black clouds loomed swallowing the gray of the day. Shadows had begun wake up and stretch from their corners and crevices. Doubt whispered. His stomach knotted. Time was running out.
Kneeling by the dog again he got out the gauze and ointment and then looked at the dog’s wound again. The blood had slowed but still pulsed with the animal’s heartbeat. He got up and went to the bed and took off a pillow cover. Using the knife tucked inside his boot, he cut in in long strips and returned the knife to its sheath. Then he knelt again at the Davy’s side. He was still alive. His panting labored at times, but he was still alive. The hunter took the small bottle of alcohol from the first aid kit and doused his hands with it. His hands turned ice cold as the alcohol evaporated. He took all the ointment from the small round container and brushed it around the gash in the dog’s side. Davey protested only giving a slight whine. He packed the gash with the guazed. Then wrapped the cut pillow case around the dog’s chest securing it at the top with a knot.
This has to work. It’s all I have. I have to get moving.
He stroked the dog’s head. “All you need is a bow and you’d be a present.”
Above him thunder exploded shaking the entire cabin. It shook the glass in the windows and rattled the pots and pans that hung on the kitchen wall. From outside the window, lightning scared the sky. The flashes lasting so long that the hunter had to use a hand to shield his eyes from its brightness. The wind now sung through the cabin rattling its rafters.
“Time to get going,” he said. He pulled on his coat, gloves and grabbed his keys. He bent down and lifted the dog into his arms. It made no protest, no sound.
“We’ll get you there, buddy. Hold on.”
The hunter approached the door and as he turned the knob the wind tore the door from his hand. It made a loud bang as it hit the outside wall. The sky grumbled from above as a heavy snow started to fall. His field of vision showed nothing but a pure white blankness. The wind assaulted him with snow and cod. Lightning ripped through the whiteness again and again.
He took a step out into the whiteness while another loud thunderclap shook the forest. He could guess the direction the truck was in, but now, could he even make it to the main road?
I’ve got to try. I can’t let my dog die. I won’t let my dog die!
The lightning flashed again and with it this time a loud crash accompanied it. The whiteness in front of him was now on fire. A tall tree fell smoldering on one side of the forest. The other half crashed down on the roof of the hunter’s truck. The side windows exploded sending shards of glass in all directions.
The hunter had no choice but to run back into the cabin, put the dog down and fight the wind for control of the door. Winning that fight, he slammed the door shut and locked the door. He grabbed the cell phone from the kitchen table. No bars. He tried anyway. Nothing. He walked the phone around the cabin holding it up to the ceiling, trying near the windows. The connection indicator did not move. The phone would be of no help.
The storm continued to rage outside. It blew snow onto the windows obscuring the outside. The hunter paced. The dog whined and attempted to move, but it was too weak now. The hunter squatted by his dog and stroked its head. A bright redness had seeped through his makeshift bandage. He dug out the rest of the ointment and gauze and redressed the wound. He sat rocking Davey and trying to decide what to do next as the storm beat the cabin. He noticed that more blood was already beginning to soak through the new bandages. The dog’s breathing had slowed more.
He looked around the cabin while holding the dog for anything that could be of help to him and his dog. Snowshoes hung on the wall, but he knew it would be suicide to attempt to hike back to town in a storm such as this. Skiis meant the same fate. He could do nothing until the storm subsided. He gave Davey a squeeze.
“We’ll just wait this out. You just hang in there. The storm’ll stop and maybe that cell phone will work. We’ll get out of here. Just hang in there, buddy.”
As he sat rocking his dog, the stress and fear of the day crept into his consciousness. A few minutes later, though he fought to stay conscious, he fell asleep.
The small solid black animal bounded towards them. The hunter looked at his wife and smiled. Her eyes shone with immediate love.
“Can we get him,” she asked with her eyes still fixated on the labrador puppy.
Of course he would say yes. Even though he didn’t think they needed a dog. He would say yes. To put out the magnificence in his wife’s eyes, would be a crime against the Universe.
“We sure can,” he said as he watch the dog jump into the arms of this wife.
And now with her hand in his, they made the final decision to stop all treatments and let the cancer take its course. Her eyes still lit up the room when Davey trotted in and she saw him. In the months leading up to this decision, the dog had been one of the things the hunter could rely on. Any time he found himself sad or mad or whatever emotion decided to cloud his blue skies, there was Davey. He started out as her dog and became his. The animal just seemed to know and act out of unconditional love for the hunter. Davey became the very best friend of the hunter like no other human ever had.
The dog came to the funeral. The hunter would have it no other way and he care little of what anyone thought. Davey walked up and put two paws on the casket and put his head down for a few seconds, then turned around and walked outside and waited for the hunter in the bed of the hunter’s truck .
That night when they were back in the house, the hunter held Davey. Davey looked into the hunter’s eyes and began to whine.
“I miss her too, “ he said and stroked the dog’s back. The dog stood up and started licking the hunter’s face and then all of a sudden the dog disappeared leaving only a faint whine in the air.
A distant hawk’s cry jolted him awake. How long had he been asleep? He felt something heavy in his arms and looked down to see Davey. He didn’t see any movement from the dog’s chest.
“Davey boy. Hey!”
There was no response.
“C’mon boy!” He shook the dog. “Davey!”
The dog’s head lolled to one side the tongue hanging out.
“D..avey...?”
The dog lay limp in his arms.
The hunter took the dog’s body and put it in the dog’s bed. With the blanket, he covered it up.
He stood staring at the blanket covered lump until the hawk’s cry broke him out of his daze. The storm had to be over now. No bird would be able to fly in the squall that had overtaken the morning. He went to a window but the caked on snow still obscured the outside. He opened the door. Three feet of snow lay on the ground untouched and glistening. The sky was a rich cold blue and the sun was making its slide into nighttime.
He trudged through the snow leaving behind small canyons as his legs moved through it. He surveyed the damage to his truck. Even if it did work, he’d never get to town in snow this deep. He lifted the branch covering the cab and threw it to the ground. The snow muffling its fall and making a soft whumf sound.
From behind him, he heard a growl. He spun causing snow to fly into the air and saw the mountain lion on the broken trunk of the tree. It bared teeth and growled again.
It’s come back for me. Killing my dog wasn’t enough.
He took a step back and the mountain lion pushed a paw down the fallen tree limb.
Man and animal locked eyes and time froze in winter’s chill.
He still had his boot knife, but any movement now would only cause the mountain lion to attack. He needed to get back to the house where his rifle was.
After more thought, he decided he would have to make the first move in this standoff. A large wooden branch was within his reach on the ground. If he could grab it quick enough and throw it hitting the mountain lion, it may give him enough time to get to the cabin door.
The mountain lion growled again as if it knew what the hunter was planning. It raised its hind quarters, its eyes still locked onto the hunter. The hunter took a deep breath, held it and made his move.
He reached down and had the tree limb in seconds. The mountain lion let out a cry and lept. The hunter threw the limb at the flying animal. It hit, but only the back leg causing the mountain lion to spin in the air and land backwards. The hunter wasted no time and bolted for the door. The mountain lion righted itself and dashed towards its running prey. The hunter’s lungs ached as the cold air stabbed at his lungs. He reached out and touched the doorknob and then something slammed into him from behind.
The mountain lion was on him. Its claws slashing through his winter coat and shedding his skin. Bright pain lit up his body.
“Aghhh!”
The hunter spun with the mountain lion on his back trying to dislodge it. He fell backwards into a wooden banister and came crashing to the ground. The mountain lion was on him again. This time its teeth tearing in to the arm he had instinctively put up to shield his face from its attack. Again and again the mountain lions bit down on his arm. With his free arm, the hunter groped for anything nearby finding a broken board from the banister. He began beating the beast with it which seemed to do nothing more than enrage it more. He continue to beat the animal until he was able to get it dislodge, but only for a second. It rolled off him, righted itself and then dashed back towards him. Its claws extended and teeth as white as the fallen snow.
As the animal lept into the air, the hunter grabbed at the boot knife. He had it unsheathed and ready as the animal rushed into him again.
“This is for Davey, you son of a *****”, the hunter exclaimed. He pushed and twisted the knife deep into the wild animal. The mountain lion let out a terrible roar as the knife threaded through its ribs and pieced its heart.
The hunter scrambled to his feet as the mountain lion stood there motionless for a moment. It teetered as it tried to move forward and then fell over lifeless.
The hunter stumbled back into the cabin. He felt a wetness on his side and when he looked down he saw the blood. He looked at the mound covered with the blanket in the dog bed.
“I got him, Davey. I got him, but he got me too,” he said as he retrieved his cell phone from the kitchen table. It showed one bar then no bars then one bar again. He took it outside and found where it stayed at one bar.
He dialed the number for the forest station and waited.
“Hello, forest station,” the voice on the other side greeted him.
“Yeah, this Bob Winter. Hunting Lodge 347. I’ve been attacked by a mountain lion. It killed my dog, but I got it. The snow’s too deep for me to even attempt driving. I need help.”
“Hang in there Bob, we’ll get the chopper out to you right away.”
Within minutes Bob could hear the whump whump whump of the helicopter. Then cresting over some trees, he saw the red copter. He raised his hand waving at them. As the helicopter touched down, its landing skids buried themselves in the snow.
A flight paramedic jumped out and began to assess Bob’s injuries. They were leading him to the helicopter when he told them to wait.
He ran back into the cabin and came out carrying something wrapped in a blanket, gritting his teeth through his pain and injuries.
“What’s that,” the flight paramedic asked.
“Something I couldn’t leave behind,” Bob told him as he climbed into the helicopter.
“My best friend.”
The winter wind bit at Bob’s face as he approached his wife’s grave. In his hands, he held a small oval weatherproof container. On top of the container was a bronze colored labrador. The likeness was remarkable, Bob thought.
He used his gloved hand to wipe the snow from the tombstone, wincing as the lacerations on his left side reminded him that they were still there.
He had thought about keeping the urn and placing it somewhere in the house or even leaving it at the hunting lodge, but as he cleared the snow and read his wife’s name, he knew this was where Davey belonged.
He held up the urn and read the small plaque affixed in front.
Davey
June 2nd, 2010 - December 14th, 2018
He placed the urn in front of the tombstone scooting and wiggling it around until its placement was perfect.
“You take care of him now, Elizabeth. May Heaven know the light of your bright smile as he runs into your arms again."
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