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OutWest's Jack B. Quick
05/14/2006-06/09/2010
Jack was out of the first litter that OutWest Hounds raised. They were born on Mother's Day- May 14th, 2006. It was in fact, because of this litter, that the kennel name was created. Jack was my pick of the litter from early on. When he was 7 weeks old he suffered a fracture in his growth plate. The vet's were not sure how this would effect him, but we put a cast on him and waited. Poor Jack ran with a swinging motion with that casted leg because it was about an inch longer then his other legs. He never let it slow him down.
Jack was never a super flashy dog. In fact, he hardly ever got excited about anything. I used to joke he was just saving energy for the race. He would rig on the dogbox, not moving, eyes half closed. But when he struck, it was something you were going to catch. He would sit down to tree, usually on the opposite side of the tree from the rest of the dogs. For this fact, most people overlooked him. He had an average chop mouth on trail and average chop mouth on the tree. Again, nothing flashy. But, it was consistent. The more you hunted with him, the more you realized that he was always in the front of the pack and was always under the right tree. If Jack didn't tree, it wasn't there.
He had his faults. He refused to road. He tended to be a bit noisy around the house. And while not skittish or shy, he didn't want strangers touching him. He would just sidestep out of the way if they tried to touch him.
He was an absolute goof ball. He was super friendly to his people and very much wanted to please. He liked being around people as much as hunting.
Jack was turning into the dependable one. You knew the job would get done if he was on the ground. Then Jack got sick and never got better. The vet's final diagnosis was that he picked up a fungus that settled into his chest cavity and attacked his heart. Jack had no give up in him though. He lived like this for over a year. The vet's often voiced their amazement that he was still alive, let alone hunting in his condition. There was no option in his opinion of leaving him home. When it was time to hunt, he wanted to go. But sadly there was no fixing my boy and he could only hold out for so long. June 9th 2010 I carried my very first pup out of a litter I raised, into the vet's office and held him in my lap while we put him to sleep. And I cried. Now still, I find myself looking out into the kennel, waiting to see him sitting on his dog house waiting for me to come out. And every time I turn dogs loose, I miss him.
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