It is with a heavy heart that I write this, but my Bandit has passed. He was born in May of 1999 and died today. I can recall driving down to Kentucky to pick him up at 6 weeks of age. He was the last litter out of Spicer's Blueback, never could I imagine that this pup who slept on my lap the whole ride home would bring such joy to my life. If I had to describe this hound in one word it would be HEART. He had heart, desire, and pure grit. I will never own another hound with as much grit as old Bandit. He was hit on the road at a young age and crawled back to me with a broken pelvic bone and cracked ribs. The vet said he would not make it, but I knew she was wrong. I stayed up with him on the kitchen floor until morning and rushed him to the vet. He recovered from the accident but after that ran with a hitch, but would NEVER quit. He once had a stick that jabbed and lodged him in the eye while running a rabbit, it was the size of a pinky finger, and the dog fought me tooth and nail to get back in the run with blood everywhere. He recovered and ran two days after. He was the type of hound that no matter what would give his all. I once witnessed him with a pack of high bred hounds run in the summer with temperatures reaching the upper 90's. Well a long check ensued after the dogs had been on the ground for quite some time, and these high powered hounds, one was mine at the time, came out and layed down in the path panting. My buddy asks "Where is Bandit." No sooner did he say that Bandit grubbed the long check and the high powered hounds got up off their quitting butts to join him. Bandit was in the worse shape of the pack but yet refused to quit. (I got rid of the hound who laid down because Bandit showed him what I wanted in a hound.)
Bandit did have some faults. He was as hard headed as a mule. I had to crack him on the backside every once in a while just to let him know I was still the boss. Looking back though, Bandit was the boss, I just was there to put him in the weeds. Bandit could be too independent at times. He would not run with mouthy dogs and would walk off at times to run his own rabbit. He could be mean around a dead rabbit, or a hole if another hound crawled on him. He was a tough fella. He would eat any dead animal that he found in the woods no matter how nasty it was. I could never break him of that. Had to have him cleaned out once because he ate an animal that got lodged. If he got to the rabbit before you did, you had to pry his teeth apart because he wouldn't give it up. He would sometimes retrieve, but then you had to wrestle him to get it away.
I could go on about my little buddy. He could make a believer out of just about anybody that watched him run. I was offered big money for him different times but refused. He was more loyal than any friend I have ever had or will have. Bandit, rest easy my friend until one day we meet again. If there is a dog heaven, God has a good hound. I miss you already big boy. I will never forget you Bandit.
