Through The Eyes Of A Deer Dog

Editor’s Note: The below story is told through the eyes of Chevy, a deer-tracking dog that passed away on Oct. 30, 2024.

My mama, belly swollen with pups, crouched and crawled under an old clapboard, rotting shed to birth me and about 10 more puppies. She had been dropped off and abandoned. There she met Sarge, a German Shepard mix who had also come here from some uncaring souls who decided he was not wanted or welcome in their home. My mom was just one of those dogs that tried to survive on the side of the road, abandoned and left to fend for herself.  She was not a beautiful girl and did not even have the dignity of a name, but Sarge took to her instantly and they fell deeply in love. Hence, my siblings and I come in to being.

There was a feed store and taxidermy shop next to the shed. The owner took Sarge in, and my dad became the security system for the business. There was a sign outside that said “Catfish food for sale.” A lady and a man stopped by to inquire about a pallet of the catfish food so they ordered one. 

Then the owner of the store asked, “Do y’all want a puppy”?  The lady said, “Oh for sure,” while the man rolled his eyes at her. The owner told them that the mama dog had the pups under the shed, but she would not let anybody near them. The lady came and peered under the shed, and my mama growled, but they were able to pick out the one they wanted. The owner said he would call when they we were ready, in about six weeks.  However, my mama was having trouble feeding all of us as she was undernourished, as well. Therefore, the feed store man called them and said, “You better come get your puppy, as some of them have pneumonia.” 

The nice lady and man came immediately. However, the pup they had picked out had already been given away, so they chose me instead. My coat was grey like my mom with German Shepard markings on my face and feet like my dad. One of my ears flopped down and one stood up. The lady picked me up and wrapped me in a towel, and we got in their truck. To where, I did not know. I had fleas teeming on me and was very weak with a bad cold, so they took me straight to the vet. After examining me, the vet looked at the lady and said, “All I can do is try to save her.” 

I was almost a goner, but I pulled through. The vet told the lady and man that I would make them a good dog. I had every intestinal worm a pup could get and fleas that could probably carry my almost dead carcass off. After being treated for the parasites and given IV fluids, it was time to go to my new home. 

Since it was nearing dark when we got to my new home, the lady and the man let me sleep in the bathroom in a box with a warm soft, fuzzy blanket. This was so different from the old dirty, musky floor that I was used to. I was so overwhelmed with such different surroundings that I was scared to whimper in the slightest. The next morning my new family introduced me to the most beautiful dog. She had long golden soft hair and soon I learned to tug on the tufts of hair on the back of her legs. She did not take too well to me, but soon I was found sleeping in her bed curled up beside her. I learned her name was Maddie, and she was a Golden Retriever. I did not know it at the time, but I would come to learn many valuable lessons from her. I immediately began imprinting her actions and knowledge.

Shortly after arriving at my new home, the lady took me for a walk to one of the farm fields. I learned very quickly the lady was called Mama and the man was called Papa. Mama proceeded to carry me while papa was ahead on the tractor. I wiggled to get down, and I began running through the field, exploring smells and different sounds. I felt like the luckiest pup in the world. Mama was pulling up invasive coffee weeds from the field and keeping an eye on me. Papa looked over and smiled at how much fun I was having and how I took to the field so quickly. At the time, my papa was a Chevrolet dealer, so they named me Chevy. I know my dog mom would be so proud that I had a name and something she never had: a home!

In the following weeks, Mama took me on walks through the farm roads and let me explore some in the woods. She talked to me a lot and told me things I never thought I would know. I saw a big black bird soaring low in the sky. Mama said, “Chevy, look up, that’s a buzzard.” After several walks she would say, “Chevy, look up, where is the buzzard.” I learned to look up at them on our walks when she saw one. Until then, I never knew what happiness could feel like. I found myself hoping my siblings had a similar life. 

One day, I learned what my calling really was. A neighbor called my mama asking permission to come on our property to look for a deer a friend had wounded. Mama and Papa told the man that they would bring me to trail it. We met the hunter where he had shot the deer. I was sniffing around, and I instinctively smelled blood and took off on the deer’s trail. Mama, Papa and the two hunters were in tow. I took them through what papa called “wait a minute vines,” which have long, razor sharp thorns on them capable of causing the need for a blood transfusion. I followed the scent for what seemed like miles until the two hunters gave up. Mama told them that I would find the deer, so Mama and Papa kept on following me through fields and thick woods. I finally caught up with the deer, and Papa took it with a shotgun. Papa called the hunters and said, “Chevy found your deer.” So that began my career as a deer trailer for the local hunters. 

Mama eventually taught me the phrase “suit-up,” which meant I was about to go trailing. She bought me a fluorescent orange collar and attached a shiny gold bell to it so she and Papa could hear me on the trail. When I heard that command and jingling bell, I got so excited I shook like I was freezing. I was able to run without a leash on our property, but when I was on strange hunting land, I was kept on a leash.

Over the years, I trailed lots of deer for hunters. One time my Mama and Papa’s preacher came by to see if I could trail a deer he had shot. I loaded up into the back seat, wearing my suit-up gear and bell collar. I heard the preacher explaining how he shot the deer and where it was located. I thought that him being a preacher would doom me to the fiery gates of hell if I did not find his deer. Well, Mama had me on the leash, and I drug her through limbs, briars and over logs for what seemed like miles. All the while, Papa and the preacher ran behind us. Suddenly, I abruptly stopped as we came upon a swamp filled with water. We saw the deer there, and it ran like a convict trying to escape the bloodhounds. So, that was that. The preacher forgave me and praised my determination, dedication and endurance of the hunt. 

As I aged, my left leg began bothering me. However, that did not slow me down when it came to trailing deer. When a hunter called to see if I was available for trailing, I was on the job again. He had shot the deer the day before, so it was going to be a challenge. I ran all over the woods and fields chasing the deer’s scent. My leg was hurting me, but I kept the pace. I soon found his deer laying on the ground stiff as a board.

After that trailing adventure, Mama and Papa took me to the vet, and the news was not good. I had to have my bone taken out of my rear left leg and learn to walk with just the muscle in my leg. I had to retire from deer trailing a while after that. There was a long rehab before I was able to hit the field again.

I am 14 years and two months old now and feeling worn out. I know that my life with Mama and Papa is coming to an end. It is late in the evening, and I am so tired that I just crouch down on all fours on the ground. I had lots of memories with my Mama and Papa. One time a lady came to pick my Mama up, and I was on the porch with Papa to watch them leave. The lady said, “Look at Chevy. She has one ear up and one ear down.” Papa said, “She only hears half of what you say!” Papa and I were still laughing as they left.

As I reminisce, I remember Mama taking me to the creek where she and I walked across fallen trees from one side to the other. Papa usually just watched us. I loved walking on those fallen trees. I remember splashing and swimming in the pond. Mama wore blue striped railroad overalls to keep briars and insects off her whenever she and Papa went to cut limbs and fallen trees; they always took me with them. Whenever I saw her wearing the overalls, I got so excited because I knew we were going to the woods. My human sister brought her boxer dogs whenever she visited. She always said I looked like a wolf with my golden eyes, so she called me wolf dog. I always enjoyed going on walks through the trails and woods with them. I think I taught them a lot about country life and even how to jump in the pond. They discovered they could master the art of swimming after nearly drowning a few times.

Then there was the time a stray black cat showed up on the porch. I chased it all the way to the gazebo at the pond while Mama ran after the cat, yelling at me to not hurt it. She caught it and eventually we made the best of friends. The cat forgave me for threatening her life. Even though she joined our family on Friday the 13th, it was her lucky day to find a good home, so she was named Lucky.

Another of my fondest memories was when the Georgia Forestry Commission came every year to do a controlled burn on the farm. After the fields cooled down some, Mama would take me to dig up field rats from their nests where they lived. I always got so excited when their trucks showed up. Well, that is enough of all that. 

It is approaching night, and I am still crouched on the ground. I sense Mama coming out the door. She begins kneeling next to me and runs the back of her hand up and down the sides of my face ,and I know she is telling me it is okay for me to go. I lick her face and her tears. She and Papa know that I am getting close to the end. I have managed to crawl on my stomach under a tree, and I am trying to keep Mama and Papa from seeing me slip away.

It is dawn, and I see Mama with her flashlight looking for me. When she finds me, she again crouches down and hugs me showing me how much she loves me. Papa comes out and brings me a pail of fresh water. I lap and lap until I start retching and lose it all. I cannot get up so Papa drives his Chevy truck around. They put me on the floor of the truck, and we are off to the vet.

Two girls from the vet office climb in the truck and take me into a room where they place me on steel table. The vet lady comes in, talks to Mama and Papa, and then shaves my leg and injects some medicine into my veins. I lost my hearing around a year ago, but strangely I could hear Mama and Papa talking to me on this day. They were both crying so hard, and I licked their tears away. I wanted to thank them for the life they had given me. I did not want to leave them, especially since deer season just came in. After all, I had work do to, and hunters would be depending on me. The lady vet said I was a strong girl not wanting to give up.

As the medicine began to take effect, I felt myself slipping away. Mama stroked me and told me she would see me one day and bring me a big biscuit. Papa hugged and stroked me as well. As I slowly faded away, I saw the rainbow bridge. It was so beautiful. I saw Maddie running toward me, her golden coat glistening in the sun. She told me of the eternal joy I am going to experience here—running and splashing in water and exploring the beautiful meadows. I also saw my birth mom in the colorful mist. She was healthy and beautiful. Running behind her was my old Pops, Sarge. I am happy now.

Editor’s Note: Deborah Wallace, “Mama,” writes, “Chevy was the best friend we could have, and she was respected by many hunters. She always ran to greet them with happiness in her eyes, hoping to trail for them. One commented that she was the best hunting dog he had ever seen. She never met a stranger. She gave us so much love, taught us humility, forgiveness and obedience. She never whimpered when she was in pain. She taught us that one can come from humble beginnings and make something of themselves while remaining humble. She will forever be in our hearts, and her spirit will always be with us.

People used to ask what kind of dog is Chevy. We would answer that she is no breed, she is just our dog. She never needed a pedigree—she was a natural.  She lived up to the slogan of Chevrolet trucks, ‘Chevy: Like a rock.’ And that she was.”