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Retired foxhounds can make it as house hounds with the right training

By Polly Wilson
I have a habit of bringing home strays. Therefore, it should not have come as a surprise that I brought Benny home. Benny was clearly becoming fond of hanging about with the second field rather than hunting, and, although we all loved to have him with us, it was time for Benny to retire. He was one of the original pack members from when the Few Hounds Hunt became the Green Mountain Hounds. Aptly named, there had been only three couple regularly hunted by Elaine Ittleman, MFH and huntsman, at the inception of Few Hounds Hunt. Three years before his retirement, Benny was nose to the ground and in the game. As the last few seasons progressed, he slowed down. By the time Benny was actually retired, he was beyond ready. I called his name and he hopped into the truck. I told friends that he came with his golf shoes and a condo in Florida.

Benny is an example of a retired foxhound who was ready to move from the kennel to the hearth and he did so with ease. Since then, I have taken three other hounds, all with equally big personalities and each with a different take on retirement.

Last year, a hunt member who was considering retiring a hound from her hunt had asked Terry Hook, MFH, what he knew about re-homing a hound. Terry then referred her to me. It has occurred to me that fellow hunt members might (in secret) be calling me “the crazy hound lady.” After a couple of emails about what to expect from a hound in the house, she thanked me and sent a picture of her new family member. I began to wonder how often people take retired hounds home. Is it common practice with hunts in general? How successful is the practice of letting members take on hounds? So, I put out the question to followers of Foxhunters on Facebook and to the huntsmen I knew, and this is what I found.

WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT
Kate Selby, huntsman for Green Mountain Hounds, says that she believes that it becomes clear when to retire a hound. “An older hound who is slowing down is one thing, but when they can’t physically keep up they can become a danger to themselves. Exhaustion, increasing lameness issues, and inability to recover quickly from a day out are all clear signs that hunting days are coming to an end.”

Ittleman has two retirees from her days as huntsman.   She would rather see a hound in work for as long as it enjoys the hunt.  When it is time to retire a hound, however, she prefers to see hounds go to a hunt member who understands what kennel life has been like and will understand the personality of a foxhound. Lorraine Groneau of Limestone Creek Hunt has retired out many hounds. “Some just do better to stay at the kennels and some have great second careers as house hounds,” Groneau says.  When Limestone Creek hounds are adopted, a formal agreement is signed by the huntsman, MFH and the new owner. Terms are clear that the new owner is responsible for the hound and will incur all expenses henceforth. For hounds who prefer the consistent life of a kennel, Lori lets them stay on and employs them to teach the puppies their manners. Some hunts have designated retirement kennels. The Iroquois Hunt has The Hound Welfare Fund, a non-profit run separately from the hunt, which allows their venerable retirees to continue their lives in the kennels. The Hound Welfare Fund works hard to raise money to support the retired hounds.

Deb Riley of Middlebrook Hounds is, whether by choice or by proxy, the staff for the retirement pack. Her farm, Finalea Farm, is aptly named for the hounds who get the pleasure of retiring there. She also confesses to keeping a couple of retired staff horses, and a few cats, too. 

Riley says, “First, you must know that foxhounds are the most grateful of all the dogs I have ever had the honor of taking care of ... or loving. They go day-to-day having the love and affection of one person — the huntsman. They return his love by hunting and working hard to find chase for him and the field of followers. They look at him with love and affection and then tiredly return to the kennel awaiting his next arrival. In the end, they transfer that love and affection — if only for a brief time — to the people that show them love until they leave us to go hunting with the ultimate huntsman above.”

THE HOUND IN THE SINK
Retiring a hound from its pack can be stressful. It’s a bit like what Eliza Doolittle went through in “My Fair Lady.” Until you witness it, you have no idea how refined a life house pets have in comparison to kenneled pack life. The good news is that, generally speaking, foxhounds are smart. They learn fast and they want to please. The bad news is that foxhounds like to run. They have a curiosity that makes great hunters, but can cause havoc when they decide to check out the new neighborhood. Hounds have a hard time figuring out what is okay and what is forbidden when it comes to countertops, tables, and other high places. Finding a hound in the sink is always a surprise. If you have other dogs, they may be stunned at how fast a hound can devour its own food and then grab its companions’ dinners as well. Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention that house-training an older hound is tricky and should be the number one priority to maintain peace in the house. Once again, the good news is that they do learn fast with firm instruction.

It takes a bit of time and patience to retrain a hound. One key element to making the transition easier for everyone is making — and keeping — boundaries. If you love your white couch, then make that room off-limits. If you can’t get out for a walk for exercise, then fence in an area for your hound to move about. Expect holes.  Digging is what dogs do; hounds do it really well. I find a large dog crate creates harmony for all the occupants of my house, including the hound himself. It is a cozy place to den up.

It might be six months before you see the changes, but your hound will adapt. Or, as my friend and fellow hunter from Old North Bridge Hounds, Suzanne Adams, says, “I’ll never have another kind of dog but foxhounds. They are so devoted.”

As this season end approaches, you may notice a hound in your pack who has slowed down, and prefers to stay by the huntsman’s stirrup. Maybe the hound missed a few meets. This will be the hound that needs a retirement home. Step up and ask the huntsman or staff if there is a need for adoption. You will not be disappointed and neither will the hound.

Polly Wilson hunts with Green Mountain Hounds, where members call her “The Hound Lady.”

“I thank God daily for Luke, because he is Michael's best friend, and they have a bond that no one can describe.” The words are Nicole’s about her husband Michael. And Luke is Michael’s 4-year-old Bluetick Coonhound service dog.

Nicole’s husband, Michael, suffers from Autism Spectrum Disorder. (ASD is a neurological disorder resulting in developmental disability that affects communication, social understanding, behavior, activities and interests). After severely injuring his back while working at his uncle’s shop, Michael was left barely able to function. Even worse were his feelings of futility, depression and despair.

And then …coincidence or providence?

Living next door to the couple was a breeder with a puppy Michael desperately wanted. But when he approached the breeder, he was told that the puppy wasn’t for sale, and a dejected Michael returned home empty handed. The following day, the breeder called; he’d changed his mind. Never had Nicole seen her husband as happy as the day that small Bluetick Coonhound entered his life. And the loving bond between Michael and Luke was instantly and immutably forged.

If not for Luke …

One of Michael’s many ongoing health problems includes seizures. Seizures, which Luke instinctively and instantly picked up on. After some further instruction from Nicole, the pup learned to recognize when they were coming on and what to do. He would remain with Michael the entire time, never once leaving his side, until the seizure was over.

The same holds true whenever Michael becomes depressed or is bedridden because of his back. Luke stays close to him, comforting and calming him with his presence, and providing the stricken Michael with the solace and reassurance he needs. And yet, this very special relationship doesn’t only work one way. Whenever Luke is the one in need of calming, Michael is there for HIM. According to Nicole, “They know just what the other thinks and wants.”

Once, during a walk through the woods near their house, Michael fell. Luke reacted immediately. He slid beneath Michael, braced himself firmly, and was able to hold Michael's weight while he managed to get back up. Now, all anyone has to say is, "Luke, help me up," and Luke will help that person up. With Michael, however, Luke knows even before he’s asked.
 
The pair is inseparable, and with Nicole’s assistance, the three of them have become regular visitors at a nearby nursing home, where they spend time with the seniors on the rehabilitation floor. Their mission: “to cheer them up and make their day,” says Nicole. Michael loves showing off Luke, Luke loves the attention, and the seniors love Luke. It is a single, joyous and rewarding love fest all round.

“Michael tells me that he loves Luke more than me,” Nicole admits, “that they have a tighter bond. Does this bother me? Does it make me mad? The answer is ‘no.’ And I will continue to say, ‘no.’ Why? Because I am walking with Michael, step by step, and side by side, just in a different way. I definitely love my Michael, and wouldn't change my baby for anything in this world.”

Article written by Nomi Berger. Nomi is the bestselling author of seven novels and one work of non-fiction. Nomi devotes all of her time volunteering her writing skills to animal rescue organizations both in Canada and the USA.

by Gates Murchie
This past October, we visited our son, Colin, and his family (Molly and Miles) in the Washington, D.C. area. Our grandson’s first birthday provided the opportunity, and off we went. Though we usually impose on them in their house, this trip was different. Molly’s parents drove up from Texas for the party and had dibs on the spare bedroom. Up until now, our Black and Tan, Easy, stayed with friends when we traveled. This time, we grabbed the chance to expand Easy’s horizons to include hotel life in the “big city.” 

Step 1: find a “pet-friendly” hotel. Google provided a list of options and I began the search. As it turns out, it isn’t as easy as I thought. Although a number of hotel chains say they are “pet friendly”, it doesn’t necessarily mean “pet welcoming.” Many limit the pet size to 50 pounds or less (that would not be Easy!). Others impose significant fees for bringing your loved one on a per-stay or per day basis. It seemed we were destined to be 20+ miles away from the family and residing in a “third tier” establishment at “first tier” rates. That is until my son mentioned the Kimpton Hotels. 

I looked and we were in the 3-4 star hotel category. Gloom filled the air. Then I found the Kimpton Helix hotel. A few short blocks from Dupont Circle (pix can be downloaded here) and 200 yards from Logan Circle, the 3-star hotel was in the middle of shops, attractions and dining and a mere 5 miles from my son’s house. The gloom thickened as I imagined the cost. I called anyway and the cheerful reservation person quickly ascertained my eligibility for discounts, offering a rate competitive with the pet-loaded rates at the other hotels. OK, now what can go wrong? Oh, yeah, the dog. I asked about bringing Easy. She said, “How big is he?” Expecting a fee adder, I sighed and said, “About 75-80 pounds.” Her response, “Oh, he’ll need a big bed. Does he want his own bowls?” What? He’s welcome! You’ll provide a bed and bowls? What’s his favorite treat? You’ve never taken reservations for a coonhound before and you’re excited! Free wine every evening? Okay, we’ll be there.

So now, the trip begins in earnest. Easy is in the back of the Subaroooooo and we are off. Only, he thinks we are going to nearby Otsiningo Park to tree squirrels and begins baying as we leave the driveway. Thirty miles later, he realizes his error and we now know why they have hound boxes in THE BACK of pickup trucks. The next 3 hours go by uneventfully and we pause at a Pennsylvania rest stop for a picnic lunch. Not just A rest stop, but THE BEST rest stop EVER. Why, you ask? Because the rest stop attendants have been feeding the squirrels around the trees in the dog walking area!!!! Hooray!!!!! Anyway, this recreational interlude gets even better when a second hound shows up to join the chorus. Back in the car and time for a nap.

Frankie is my son’s rescue dog and he is a North American LBD (Little Brown Dog). They proceed to light up the neighborhood with barking and bawling as they chase squirrels in the yard and on a walk. City squirrels are a little too sassy for Easy and he quickly teaches them that running 3 feet up a tree is not far enough to avoid a near-death experience at the mouth of a coonhound. This lesson would be repeated numerous times during our visit, in the yards parks, streets, and outdoor cafes of the D.C. area.

Now, it is late and time for the hotel…we arrive, 15 hours into our day and looking a bit bedraggled. We are met with an on-going full-blown party and a moment of wondering, “What happens next?” A hearty greeting and a pat for Easy and now, we face navigating the crowd and ….. an elevator.  Luckily, for the uninitiated, a B&T coonhound looks enough like a Rottweiler that navigating the crowd quickly resolves itself. This would also prove true when walking the city streets. People respect your personal space when part of it is occupied by a serious dog. Back to the elevator.

Easy does not like new surfaces or wiggly floors. The vet’s moving table and scale are not popular places. Anyway, the elevator opens and two people get in, not realizing we are getting on, too. They look nervous and Easy freezes. Undeterred, I tug and Candy scoops and he is in. This was his one and only problem with the elevator. All further trips went without a hitch, although I can only imagine what went through his mind. “OK. There was this party and these people and we got into the little room and then the door closed and then it opened and they were gone and then we went to bed and got into the little room and the door closed and it opened and different people were there.” (I imagine Easy thinks in run-on sentences.)

A quick call and Easy’s very comfy bed and bowls show up at the (very nice) room and our first night begins. No issues except that he stares at the dog in the floor to ceiling mirrors and tries to look behind them. 

The next morning at 7, it is time for the a.m. walk. We travel up to Logan Circle and quickly accomplish the mission… and discover that the circle and its trees are loaded with squirrels in desperate need of a fitness program. The new regime is announced with great gusto and much fanfare. Unfortunately, the ceremonies serve to wake those unfortunates who spend the night sleeping at the circle. There is much grumbling and rustling of plastic. I feel bad about this and resolve to avoid repeating it the next day, if possible. Their lives are difficult enough (pic can be downloaded here).

Breakfast outdoors at Caribou Coffee is another new experience for Mr. E. Coonhound. Still exhibiting exemplary behavior, he sits under the table and examines the passing parade with great interest. Different smells from different cultures, different vehicles and different foods all provide the same amusement as a morning paper … Until he discovers pigeons. They act like squirrels, make squirrel noises, flutter about and are annoying. A surprise bawl sets things aright and gives the other patrons something to remember. 

The rest of the visit is equally wonderful, the birthday party a great success and the return trip satisfying. Easy took many more elevator rides, met many more people and showed us that he is a traveler of great sophistication. And that you can’t take the country out of the dog.

By Andrew Suggs

My wife was home and I was working at the family’s organic dog treat shop, Terra Dog Bakery, in Norcross, GA, when a local resident brought a pup to our store. She told me that the gawky dog had been abandoned and needed a home. He was very skinny and also very young but he was still big for a pup. He had a pleading hound face, lanky legs, and big ol' floppy ears.

How could anyone abandon him? He looked like a purebred bluetick coonhound puppy.

The crazy part of it is that I've always wanted a bluetick, and thought it would be many years before I could ever get one, because we already have two dogs and a young child. But here he was, staring right at me, needing a home and someone to love him. He was a sweet boy, playful and clumsy like a baby. I told the girl that I would take him without really thinking on it for long. How could I let him go? We were not looking for a dog or prepared for another, but what would happen to him if I said “no”?

I have rescued a pup through an “adoption agency,” but never been in a situation like this, where the dog had been abandoned and arrived by serendipity.

So, I left my store that day with the new pup, my mind heavy with a million thoughts, trying to get a grip on what was going on. I stopped on the way home to get him some food and a new collar and leash. I held him the whole time. He was friendly with the people in the store who greeted him. We traveled home. I made sure my wife was seated before I broke the news.

Though it was a total surprise, she embraced him and began thinking of names. My son was excited and smiled as soon as he saw him. "If we are keeping this dog, I am naming him!" my wife said.
We settled on Jamie, after a character in a book she was reading. He looked like a Jamie.

With the uncertainty of his past, we cautiously watched over him for a day until we could get him to the vet. Our vet revealed that he was underfed, had worms, and had yeast infections in his ears. The inside of the poor boy’s ears were covered in a thick black crud. We think he was only about 6 weeks old.

We were upset that he had a rough start, but wanted to give him a shot at the life he deserves. Now, about a month later, Jamie is up to a healthy weight, and putting on more pounds (and spots!) each week. He is doing great eating a home cooked diet. He is such a great dog, very loyal already, playful, energetic, and curious, as any good hound is. Even though he is young (10 weeks), he is already about 90% potty trained and stands by the door when he needs to go out.

He is my total buddy. He comes to work with me every day and stays with me even while I work a booth at our local farmers market. He is great with kids, other dogs, and people. He is very social and has to say hello to anyone (or dog) he sees. He's a people magnet and draws attention everywhere.

He is teething and he still finds puppy mischief, but all things considered he is the best pup I've ever had. He is very smart, and has already mastered getting over and around baby gates and other obstacles. We have been working on obedience, and he is responding well to reward-based training (pretty great since I bake all his treats!).

He has that coonhound drive already and is pretty fearless for such a young pup. I took him to the beach with me last week and he had no problems trudging through the ocean waves and climbing over large rocks to catch a scent.

This guy is just a once in a lifetime dog, who came to me in such a crazy way. I feel that Jamie will be a great ambassador for the coonhound breed in our little town and anywhere we go. We intend to come up with a line of treats especially for coonhounds.

Even though our life together has just begun, I love the breed and am so excited to have one in my life!

By Gates Murchie

Easy is a Black and Tan coonhound. Once possessed of UKC and AKC papers (lost during an unpleasant period of his life), he is a handsome fellow. In his 7-8 years, Easy passed through several kind and considerate families, a neglectful/abusive owner, a shelter, and a foster home before coming to us. He hunted, slept on sofas and was loved. He also endured starvation, freezing cold, a terrifying wound, a long rehabilitation and the constant threat of death. Yet he came out the other side with several thousand pounds of calm, considerate, canine wisdom in a seventy-eight pound body; Easy is a better person than I. 

Kind to all non-tree-climbing mammals, and our cats, Easy harbors no pre-conceived notions about others and judges only on behavior, not rumor, stereotype or prejudice. He cares not about feline nature, social station, physical limitation, past transgression, religious belief or political af filiation. A thinker of deep thoughts, he does not act precipitously, even in the face of social pressure, intimidation or implied force. Easy is the independent captain of his own ship; loyal to his friends, open and accepting of strangers, kind to children, intolerant of bullying, immune to bribes, and fierce in the face of hostility. I want to grow up to be like him.

     Others may “walk” their dogs, but close observation reveals that the dog on said walk is not having a very good time. The people stop, talk and socialize; the dogs aren’t allowed to. The kids run, shout and play; the dogs don’t. The dog on these walks seldom does what it was born to do (unless early cave men had purses).

I get approached by other men, men who are walking dogs on shoestring leashes, and they say, “Gee, I wish I had a real dog like yours.” That’s because we get our recreation and exercise on “hunts” in the local parks to locate and exercise the local squirrel population. Maintaining their tree-climbing skills is a vocation for Easy. Though his punishment for those failing to maintain those skills may seem harsh, it is all for the best. When asked by the local squirrel-feeding lady, “Do you think that is a good time?”, I can only reply, “Not particularly, but he does!”  Easy is passionate in the pursuit of this hobby, marshalling his energy and resources in rest only to expend them in a great rush of activity and song. Similar to flying a line-control aircraft with a full-size fighter aircraft on the end, he is joyful and focused from his nose to his rapidly circling “helicopter” tail. This endeavor can lead him into dangerous adventures and requires the intervention of friends with a more objective view. 

     My constant companion, he provides the resigned acceptance only available from true friends when I come up short. I know that as a “hunting” pack member, I am slow, lazy and relatively stupid. My lack of focus and failure to consummate our hunts in the public parks frustrates him, but he never gives me a hard time about it. I know I’m merely projecting when I think I detect a sarcastic smirk. Were he human, I feel in my bones that Easy would pick me, despite my shortcomings, in any team selection process, just because he’s a nice guy and I’m his friend.

     Easy accepts the hand that life dealt him. He stands stoically to receive the bandages, padding and protection that are to be his lot in life, without complaint. He deals with the inconvenience of his cats and the limits of his home turf. He luxuriates in the attention of his humans. He trains others in the protocols and traditions of his species and stands ready to be a friend to all. In short, he is Andy Griffith in a really good dog suit… and I am either Barney Fife or Opie, depending on the day.

We may be stupid, stubborn, lazy, smelly, loud and difficult to train, but he adopted us anyway….

By Emily Plishner

It’s pretty hard to tell the difference between Treeing Walker coonhounds and foxhounds. Most of the differences are behavioral rather than visibly structural, and the behavioral differences are most evident in a hunting setting.

Both American foxhounds and coonhounds had the same ancestors--hounds brought from Europe to the Americas in colonial days. In Europe, desirable game did not climb trees to get away from hounds. Hounds were mostly used to chase deer and foxes. In the Americas, gray foxes, raccoons, opossums, black bears, bobcats, and mountain lions all climb trees when they want to get away from hounds, so American hunters selectively bred those hounds that looked for scent on trees and barked at treed game, holding it there for the hunter.

The offspring of this selective breeding became the coonhound breeds. The tri-colored coonhounds, the ones that look oversized beagles, were separated out as an individual breed, Treeing Walker Coonhounds, in the 1940’s. Approximately half of all purebred coonhounds in the United States are Treeing Walkers, with the other half divided between the remaining five or six breeds.  

Hounds that were used primarily to hunt red foxes, coyotes or deer did not need to check tree trunks for scent, so they remained foxhounds (in less formal circles, they are sometimes referred to as “running” as opposed to “treeing” hounds) even though some of them do tree game that will tree. To confuse matters further, there are some hunters that use purebred coonhounds to hunt game that will not tree, like coyotes. There are a lot more coonhounds than foxhounds in shelters, especially in places where there isn't a big coyote problem.

Within the foxhound breeds, there are several different named strains, including the running Walker hounds. A running Walker looks just like a Treeing Walker, but it generally has a slightly leaner and racier build (imagine a little greyhound mixed in), making it fast on the ground.

The formal mounted foxhunts generally use a sturdier looking hound that is heavier than a typical coonhound with slightly shorter ears. Two such strains are the American and the English Foxhounds. Foxhounds trained to hunt in large packs, like those that hunt with the mounted hunts, are more deferential and are less likely to be terribly independent. 

The hunting dog registries generally recognize two breeds of foxhound (American and English) and six or seven breeds of coonhound (black and tan, bluetick, English, leopard, Plott, redbone, and treeing Walker). Some hunters breed "grade" hounds that are not registered, and may be crosses between the different coonhound and foxhound breeds, or even have a little bloodhound mixed in. This is particularly common among big game (black bears and mountain lions) hunters out west.

Within the individual breeds, there are a number of "strains" or "bloodlines" that you wouldn't be able to tell apart without seeing their pedigrees.

When it comes to coat color, very few treeing Walker coonhounds are almost entirely white, although there are some, particularly those in the Clover bloodline. In general, a dog that is almost entirely white, with just a little sprinkling of other colors, is most likely a foxhound. There was an old time French breed of hound called a porcelaine that was almost entirely white. However, dogs of many breeds with predominantly white coats may have a genetic tendency to deafness, so they are not necessarily the best breeding stock.

Coonhounds with a black saddle on their back are highly prized in show circles. Coonhounds with almost no white—mostly brown legs and black saddlebacks--are known as “high tans.” This color pattern is somewhat more common in coonhounds than foxhounds, but not all that common in either.

Coonhounds that have been bred to look up trees often throw their heads way back when they bay, and are very given to putting their front paws up on anything handy—a tree with game in it, a kitchen counter, some stranger they are greeting effusively. This is bred-in behavior, but can be modified.  A pet coonhound can and should be trained to stay off the kitchen counter and not jump on strangers.

I have a lot of experience with hounds of all kinds, and even I have trouble recognizing the difference between coonhounds and foxhounds without seeing their papers or watching them work.

At Coonhound Companions, we're working hard to find pet homes for the failed hunters. In the right home, where their loud voices are appreciated and their affectionate loyal natures are reciprocated, they are extremely good pets.