By Mickey Dunaway

Most everyone in our 55+ community knew our Brittany’s name—Boomer—before they knew ours. Boomer became a legend on Coulter Parkway, our street, one Thanksgiving a few years ago. Our neighbor to the left of us, who will remain unnamed, had spilled an entire pan of dressing, taking it out of the oven for an upcoming Thanksgiving dinner. 

[Just a side note: Down South, we cook dressing outside of the bird, and it is not stuffing! I ate stuffing one time when I was an Indiana school superintendent and went to eat Thanksgiving lunch at the high school. We had the typical slice of congealed turkey breast, green beans, and stuffing. I love dressing, but this was not dressing. The stuffing was basically soggy white bread cubes in turkey gravy. Not a cube of cornbread in sight—and this was in corn-growing country!]

Back to the story. Our neighbor, who knew Boomer well and his penchant for eating anything that moved or smelled like it, would be good to eat. She called my wife, told her the story, and asked if Sandy thought Boomermight be interested in eating the dressing instead of his supper that day. Oh my goodness, did he! Sandy took him next door and he commenced to having his personal Thanksgiving supper. He cleaned up the floor, the oven door, and where his tongue would reach inside the oven.

There is still more to this story. Boomer is a Brittany—a bird dog of exceptional intelligence and curiosity. Soon after we acquired him from the breeder, he learned to open doors with the square handles. Most houses in Bailey’s Glen are equipped with these handles—as does our neighbor. This did not go unnoticed by our copper and white four-legged Sherlock. 

Boomer is also a runner—he hightails it like a rabbit with a beagle on his trail when he escapes. Worst of all, he ignores his arm-flailing senior citizen parents running after him.

Not long after the neighbor’s invitation to eat Thanksgiving dressing at her house, Boomer escaped our backyard, ignored us yelling to him, and ran straight to the neighbor’s backdoor. He stood up, opened the door, let himself in, and began a plunder campaign that would make a Viking proud. 

First, he checks the oven—nothing. Then, what does he see but the neighbor dog’s food bowl, which she kept full all the time because, unlike Boomer their cute little dog can control his hunger and just eat a little at a time. Boomer devours every kibble and begins to rampage around every room in the house, looking for more. Thankfully, Boomer is not destructive—beyond eating another dog’s food—and our neighbor finally grabs him by the collar, and we arrive to take his thieving self back home. After all, it is not as if he never gets a treat every time he goes out. But … not this time!

We used to worry about Boomer running away because he loves everyone, but since the neighbor invited him to have homemade Thanksgiving dressing, he can always be found trying to open her back door!

Thankfully, we have wonderful neighbors who are willing to occasionally adopt a medium-sized copper and white Brittany should he show up at their door! 

Yep, that’s the legend of Boomer of Coulter Parkway!

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To Err is Human…to Forgive is Canine —Author Unknown