Readers have often accused me of false labeling non-fiction as fiction. There may be some occasional truth in the accusation, for all fiction is born of a true story, observed or heard somewhere and bent by an author like a red hot horse shoe by a farrier.
So I begin here with a confession. This story is all true save for names. It happened many decades ago.
Once upon a time there lived an amateur field trialer who loved the game and played it with deadly seriousness. He had been a professional athlete in his youth and perhaps that accounted for his serious approach to the game of field trialing. Let’s call him Bill. He could be surly, he did not suffer fools gladly, especially judges with whom he disagreed. He cared deeply about the welfare of his dogs and horses.
He used a vet who was also a trialer, as did most of the trialers in the circuit. Let’s call him Doc.
One day when Bill was in his late fifties his physician told him he had a heart defect and would likely die suddenly, maybe soon, maybe not for years. “Bill, you ought to get your affairs in order,” the doctor said (we won’t give him a name for he has no more of a speaking part in the story).
Bill regarded the news from his doctor as bad and good, he would be glad for a sudden death, but hoped it would not come soon. As he reflected, he became obsessed with the fate of his trial dogs should he die suddenly. He scheduled a meeting with Doc, and commanded his wife to go with him. He told them together the news from his physician. Then he said, “You must promise me when it happens you (looking at his wife) will the same day bring my dogs here, and that you (looking at Doc) will euthanize them. I cannot stand the thought they might be neglected or abused when I am gone.”
Under duress, Doc and wife gave their word Bill’s edict would be obeyed. Neither was happy about it.
As luck would have it, Bill dropped dead while handling his best dog in an amateur shooting dog stake sponsored by a club he belonged to. The rest of the day’s running was cancelled but running was resumed the next day. Doc handled Bill’s dog which was given a second chance and it placed first.
Next day Bill’s wife brought all six of Bill’s dogs to Doc’s office and left them while Doc was gone for lunch. Doc had made plans. He placed calls to five of Bill’s trialing friends. Each came by and took one of the condemned dogs home with him. Doc kept the sixth, the one he had handled and placed in the stake Bill died during.
The Club named the stake for Bill. It still runs today. And that’s a true story, mostly.
Can any one guess Bill’s real name?