I lost my call making buddy last Saturday morning. Chevy was sick for the last month; the vet never really point-pointed the illness until we asked for a referral to a larger animal clinic. She felt he had a tumor on his lung. The last week Chevy was alive he refused to eat anything. Chevy was one of the best dogs that I have owned. He was 10 � years old and never quit being a puppy. He was a great hunter that worked with hand signals, voice, and whistle commands. He was happiest when he knew you were happy. When I would go out to the wood working shop to turn calls and strikers and drink a beer you could always count on Chevy showing up and curl up on the beanbag that I kept for him out there. He lost about a third of his body weight due to his illness. I found him earlier Saturday morning when I was loading up the truck to go turkey hunting. I picked him up and put him in the garage and did not tell my daughter until we finished hunting that morning. I miss him not hitting my hand with his nose every time he knew I am going somewhere in the truck. He was a good loyal friend and will be missed.
