Macon was a beautiful animal, a graceful English setter with feathery white fur and only a hint of orange. He was a big male in keeping with a long line of registered English Setters I have owned out of Grouse Ridge Will.
I had a friend with a female setter, which happened to be coming in heat. To the best of our knowledge, neither of these dogs had ever been with another dog, if you know what I mean. My friend and I thought that by consummating the act of marriage between these two fine animals, the dogs would receive immense pleasure and each of us could make a tidy profit from the sale of the pups. In my case, I would get the pick of the litter, easily worth $500 – a down payment on a 20-gauge Ruger Red Label I had been lusting after.
That week I stopped by my church for a talk with the Pastor, a good friend of the family.
”Can you marry our dogs?” I asked. “We want our pups to be raised as good Presbyterians.”
The Pastor said that he had not run across anything like that in the Book of Church Order, but would put in a good word with the Fellow Upstairs, just in case.
Agreed, I said, and I went home to await the call that Macon’s betrothed was ready for a conjugal visit.
When the female was fully in heat, I took Macon over to her place.
“Macon, you’re going to love this,” I advised. “You’ll have all week, so take your time and enjoy your stay.”
Macon acknowledged our little “birds and bees” discussion by licking the inside coating of glass completely off the rear window of my Jeep.
The Honeymoon Suite was located in my friend’s garage. There was no champagne and roses to greet the lovebirds, but my friend did have a nice little bed on the floor with fresh blankets.
When I opened the door, Macon bounded from the back of the Jeep in a leap pushing 60 feet and landed in the vicinity of the rear end of his intended. He immediately went into his sniffing mode. It was if he had winded 50 coveys of quail at the same time.
“Foreplay,” I figured. “Perhaps we should leave the two alone.”
Two days later, I called my friend to see how the intimate arrangement was progressing.
“To the best of my knowledge, all your male has done is lick and sniff,” he said.
“Give him time,” I suggested. “Macon is a ladies’ man. He knows what he’s doing.”
Two more days passed and it was more of the same. By this time the female had lost most of the hair on her hind parts.
I called my vet for advice.
“Sometimes,” he said. “You have to physically help the male during the act.”
Immediately, I went and picked Macon up and brought him home. The next day, my friend called the owner of another male setter and in less than twenty seconds the deed was done. My friend’s female had a litter of 6, and sold the pups for a tidy profit.
You know, there are some things in life not worth a shotgun. And this was one of them.