I hunt hogs and squirrel with my Jack Russells, and have in the last few years narrowed it down to two males. Huff, and Tank. Huff is the daddy and it isn't a stretch to say that he is the "bull of the woods". I haven't found anything he won't tackle, and if it is accidentally another dog, forget the preliminary butt sniffing and hackle raising. The fight starts immediately upon Huff's arrival. Huff was borne an old man. He doesn't play, if you throw a ball, he expects if you want it back, you should be the one to go and get it. He protects the property, and us, and he hunts. That's his deal, other than wanting his belly scratched.
Tank on the other hand is (or was) a year old offspring of Huff, and looked like a Jack Russell oughta look. ALL personality, hey guys, let's play, and at 5 months old he had to be locked up to protect the telephone repair man when he needed to go into the back yard. Ride on the tool box, and back his old man, when hunting hogs, or anything that moved, and wart ya to death wanting to play, ride the tractor or 4 wheeler.
Well, Tank got into something, or just plain got sick and quit eatin. No idea what, as I don't keep chemicals out, or if he just got hurt internally, in his rough version of playing. Vet could find nothing, and today I had to put him down. I must be gettin old, because it seemed harder to dig that grave in HIS lot than it used to be. But he's buried less than fifty feet from where he was born, and he knew we loved him. Bye buddy.
