Serving Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley
Serving Waitsburg, Dayton and the Touchet Valley
Kea's game face, staring across the golden grasses, contemplating the field, and finding birds.
An obligatory photo of Kea with her first rooster pheasant. Like every setter I own, she was less than enthused about it.
Kea in her happy place, having a good romp in the snow.
– Kea and her daughter, Yuba, eagerly await their after-the-hunt cookie.
The Ghost of Fat Dog Past is plain to see on Yuba's face as she stares longingly at a tasty morsel of Thanksgiving dinner.
Once upon a time, a heavily ticked orange belton setter was born into a grouse-hunting family in Michigan. She was a sleek pup with a stylish point who took to the grouse woods like no other setter. Her name was Kea, from Hawaiian culture, meaning "to be a bird" or "to fly." She could slip through the greenbrier and popple like a speckled ghost, appearing over birds unnoticed.
An obligatory photo of Kea with her first rooster pheasant. Like every setter I own, she was less than enthused about it.
Legend has it that Kea once held down a covey of 14 ruffed grouse for an hour before her owner finally found her. The woman collected her five-bird limit, having reloaded her Lefever side-by-side twice and missing not a shot. Kea's presence mesmerized the ruffs into timely single flushes through open shot windows. Once the five grouse were down, Kea made flawless blind retrieves to her owner's hand, then led the woman home, looking smug. But a setter as stunning and skilled as Kea could not simply live out her days in the field. Her genetics were too valuable. Hence, her prime years were spent raising pups
– Kea and her daughter, Yuba, eagerly await their after-the-hunt cookie.
In 2014, Ali and I were looking for another setter pup and came across Kea. Her reputation and photographs convinced us, and we ended up with Yuba, the runt of Kea's current litter. Like her mom, Yuba was an upland bird prodigy. She was one year old on the 2015 pheasant opener, and that morning was all the training she needed. Finn, my oldest setter, was three that fall and starting to grasp the bird-hunting game. Yuba followed Finn to point and recover two roosters that morning, and she became a force to be reckoned with in the field. By late season, Yuba tracked down and pinned her first wild rooster in the snow and heavy reed canary grass.
I followed Kea's story over the years, and Ali even tried to buy her, although her owner understandably wouldn't let her go. But life has a strange way of coming full circle. In early spring of 2020, we heard a rumor that Kea was available for adoption. Ali acted quickly on the tip, and Kea soon traveled west to become our fourth Llewellin to roam the Palouse.
Kea in her happy place, having a good romp in the snow.
The young dog I had followed over the years had aged from her days at the puppy mill. She was comically chubby. To call her "food motivated" was a gross understatement, probably because she lived in a kennel where food might have been limited or shared among many dogs. "Fat Dog" became Kea's new moniker, which she seemed to appreciate.
The once confident young dog had become a timid old girl, and it took about a year for us both to understand the new family dynamics. She was prone to confusion and panic, often doubling down on her fight-or-flight responses. In the end, Kea pushed me to a new level of patience and problem-solving, requiring me to stay a step ahead with solutions before problems arose. Fortunately, my patience built trust and strengthened our bond, opening the door to the pheasant fields.
Who knows how long it had been since Kea hunted birds, but the legend I had sought was revealed when I turned her loose on the Eastern Washington grasslands. She knew precisely which commands I "beeped" to her collar, even without training. She stretched out across the field with unexpected grace. She knew how to work the wind and scent, and her stamina was remarkable, especially for a dog that hadn't chased birds in years. Running her and Yuba as a brace was a moment I had long envisioned, and a memory I won't soon forget.
Kea had the stubbiest tail of any setter I've met, and her jowls were shorter than average, too. Her usual look involved a longing stare out the window or lustful eyes fixed on a treat bag, with her ears perked and lips caught up in her canine teeth. She would wiggle and whine when greeted with an excited yell, "FAT DOG!" Somehow, Kea's belly was perpetually dirty, and she sometimes just felt grimy. She loved a good belly rub and a romp in the snow. She was a derpy, lovable old dog, and pure magic in the field.
Life constantly evolves, and 2023 was a game-changer for Ali and me. Ali's cancer diagnosis meant we were in Seattle almost every week, sometimes twice. Life was chaotic when Kea needed stability, but something was changing in Kea as well. She became restless and started pacing around the house frequently. She was in constant need, but of what we were unsure. By that summer, it was clear that our new way of life wasn't suitable for Kea. She needed a home where she could be the priority.
We were contacted by a wonderful couple from Western Oregon who had a history of rescuing older setters, and Kea seemed to be exactly what they were looking for. One sunny June afternoon, we loaded Kea into the Prius to meet her new family in Hood River. Kea hated car rides, presumably because they always led to something unsettling. But this trip was different. She was relaxed and slept most of the way. When she met her new family, she climbed right into the back seat of their truck and lay down, as if she knew them and where she was going. We said goodbye with our hearts in our throats and tear-stained cheeks, but we knew she headed for something better.
Kea undoubtedly spent her best days with her new family, roaming a small orchard, hunting pocket gophers, and lounging on the porch. She took on a new role as a support animal for her family's aging grandmother, making frequent visits to the nursing home where she lived. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to all of us, Kea was enduring a fight of her own.
Kea passed away near Christmas 2023 due to a brain tumor that caused her behavioral changes throughout the year. She died the day after the family's beloved grandmother, almost as if she was hanging on for the elderly woman. A testament to a good dog's devotion.
The Ghost of Fat Dog Past is plain to see on Yuba's face as she stares longingly at a tasty morsel of Thanksgiving dinner.
I'd hoped for a future reunion, a chance to see her wiggle when teased about being "Fat Dog," and to hunt pheasant with her once more. Sadly, life waits for no one, but Kea is often visible in her daughter, Yuba. I see her in Yuba's high, curled tail and stocky body each time she points a pheasant, and she's always here during the holidays. As we prepare delicious Thanksgiving and Christmas meals, Yuba, tempted by the aromas, channels her inner Fat Dog. She lounges in the kitchen, mouth-breathing as Kea often did, her milky eyes wide with desire, awaiting the stray scraps that fall to the floor. A black-and-white spitting image of the original Fat Dog, whom I look forward to seeing again this Christmas.
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