Tommy Dobbin lived in a rural village in central Ireland. It was the summer of his twelfth year. That summer Tommy suffered one of the most traumatic experiences that a little boy could endure. But endure he did, with the help of a friend.

This particular summer, it seemed that otter had taken over the nearby river. They were always there, but this year there was an over-abundance. To top it off, they were going on raiding parties to the neighboring farms and stealing eggs from the hen houses.

Tommy and his friends liked to hunt, and this year otter would be at the top of the list. To hunt those rascals, you needed a good dog. Tommy's was a wirehair his father had gotten him the year before. "Jack," as Tommy called him was maturing nicely with good hunting instincts and was a fine specimen to boot.

The neighborhood boys got together with their dogs, Tommy and Jack included, about four times a week and would go to the river. It was dangerous for the dogs to hunt otter in deep water as an otter could swim circles around a dog. The risk was great but the boys were undaunted. And they did what common sense told them: hunt the shore and the shallows.

All of the boys had chores to do, and since it was summer and no school, the earlier on the hunt, the better. So they would be off to hunt way before dawn. The moonlight and the dogs' senses would get them through the hunt. It was never easy, but it was the thrill of it.

They had been combing the river for about a week. And then it happened.

They were out hunting and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It gave the boys better vision, but it was close to the time for them to go home. The boys had leashed their dogs so that they wouldn't run off to hunt and make them late for their chores. They were walking along the rivers edge where there was a thick band of trees on either side. The trees were so close to the river that they reached across and touched the trees from the other bank, forming a canopy. But rays of light were shooting through the branches and illuminating patches on the river. The boys and their dogs had to walk so close to the rivers edge that each step was foretold by the sucking sounds of the mud.

Now, Tommy's friend Sean had him a dog that was mostly Airedale, mixed with something else, but it definitely was a terrier. He didn't have the markings of an Airedale, because of the mix, but he had a short, cropped tail and favored the Airedale in stature. He was the biggest of the four dogs.

The dogs began to get excited and the boys had a hard time controlling them. They hadn't yet seen what the dogs sensed was lurking in the murky water beside them. They kept moving, but the dogs were still antsy.

Sean caught something out of the corner of his eye and he swung to his left to try to see what it was. His eye scanned the top of the water. He froze, held his breath, and then it appeared. Breaking the surface was an otter that must have been the size of a small seal. It was the biggest otter that he had ever seen. All the boys were looking now. They just weren't sure about what they had just seen.

They began to move slowly again, and with his eyes never leaving the water, Sean reached out to grab Tommy's arm to get his attention. He was finally able to catch his sleeve and he pulled him to a slow halt. Sean began to talk in a low, excited whisper. "Tommy, did ya see that?"

"Yeah, but there's nothing that we can do about it now, it's too late" Tommy replied.

"C'mon Tommy, there's time for one more hunt," Sean said excitedly.

"No Sean," Tommy shot back, "anyway, we'd be damn fools to send a dog into the river here."

There was nothing that Tommy or the other boys could do. Sean was already unleashing his dog. "The river's too deep here Seanie, come on, don't do it," Tommy's voice was imploring him now.

"Don't worry, Buster can handle him," Sean blurted out. With that, Sean unleashed Buster.

The dog swam out to meet the otter near the middle of the river. There was a great deal of thrashing and water flying everywhere. The boys couldn't see anything and it seemed like an eternity, but it was only a matter of seconds. Then all of a sudden, nothing, calm.

Buster had swum into about eight feet of water and the otter had dragged him under and held him down until he stopped struggling. The otter then swam downstream and didn't resurface until he was out of sight.

Sean was horrified. He waded into the water to look for Buster. The poor dog finally floated to the surface, limp and lifeless. Sean carried him all the way home, crying all the while. The boys decided to call a time-out on the hunting for awhile, out of respect for Sean.

After about ten days though, anger began to set in. Tommy went and picked up Sean one morning, even though he didn't have a dog. Sean would come on the hunt that day and for the rest of the summer, or until they caught that otter. He had a vested interest in seeing that that otter was brought in.

The four boys were back together again and they hunted the same area of the river where they lost Buster. For six days they scoured the area. Then it happened again. This time, Mick lost his dog. Mick was a good friend and he lost a fine dog. The fourth boy, Marty, decided to drop out of the hunting because he couldn't stand the thought of being without his dog, Red. And so it was down to three. For Tommy, Sean, and Mick, it became an obsession.

Well, the days passed and the hunting became almost like a job for the three. Jack was the only dog that they had left and they had to be real careful with him. They hunted only the shallows. They could have taken game that they didn't, because they wanted that demon that destroyed two dogs. And there was neither hide nor hair of him for about two weeks, and the boys were growing frustrated. Jack was also restless because Tommy wouldn't turn him loose when he wanted to go. But they had only one aim, and the big rascal wouldn't show himself.

Then, as suddenly as it was silent, disaster struck again. It was kind of an eerie morning and the boys were in the shallows working upstream when Jack took off along the rivers edge. He raced out of sight and Tommy froze. He was panic stricken. Jack was heading toward the deepest part of the river. Tommy cleared his head and called to the others and they ran after the dog.

As they came around the next bend, they saw Jack dive into the river. And just as they thought, Jack had found the monster. The otter seemed to be frolicking, almost happy. Another dirty deed was about to be done, and Jack was all too willing to participate. He was a game little dog, but his heart might have been his undoing. Jack was just out-classed in an environment that did not play to his strengths.

Tommy thought of grabbing a tree branch and swimming out to the otter to scare him away. And if he was going to try something, there was no other way. But he decided silently not to go to Jack's aid. After all, what would Sean and Mick think after losing their beloved dogs? And maybe Jack had a chance. He was their last hope anyway.

But it wasn't to be.

As Jack neared the middle of the river, the otter appeared to back off, but swam a wide arc around him to the left. When Jack turned to face him, the otter attacked! Jack did well enough to bite off half of the otter's right ear. There was plenty of noise, teeth gnashing, spitting sounds and lots of confusion. Water was spraying everywhere.

Their bodies were heaving in and out of the water, their legs flailing in desperation.. But it wasn't too long, and Jack was doomed. The otter moved in for the death grip and dragged Jack below by the back of the neck.

Tommy was stunned as he carried Jack home that morning. He felt so forlorn without him. And there was nothing left to do but to give him a decent burial. He found a flat stone and etched Jack's name in it along with the date. He kissed him goodbye and buried him. Tommy was heartbroken.

He had to push himself to do his chores that day. His feet felt like they had weights on them. When his chores were done, he didn't do anything. He just laid in his bed and cried. He finally cried himself to sleep. All the while Tommy's father was watching. He had an idea to bring Tommy out of his misery.

About three days later, when Tommy seemed to be back to normal, his father suggested that he go see Mr. Creighan, the pub owner. When Tommy wanted to know why, all his father would tell him was that it was something about a dog.

Mr. Dobbin had visited the pub a couple of days earlier and Mr. Creighan said that he would think about taking his dog down to the river with the boys, but Tommy had to go there and tell him his tale first hand. If it wasn't a great risk, then they would do it. He had a very valuable dog and didn't want to lose him, so he needed a little convincing.

Mr. Creighan had a Kerry Blue Terrier or as they were called in Ireland, an Irish Blue Terrier. And he was the only Irish Blue in the county. But what a specimen! Rock, as he was called, was as game as they come and he would prove later to be one courageous son-of-a-gun.

Tommy, Sean, and Mick went to see Mr. Creighan as soon as they could get together. After telling their tale, he just sat there staring out into space, like day-dreaming. It seemed an eternity before he spoke. "Well lads, you've gone through a lot, ey?"

"It wouldn't do us any more harm if we had the help of ol' Rock ," Tommy snapped.

"Maybe laddies, but tell me... what would I do if I lost ol' Rock here?" Mr. Creighan retorted.

"You won't lose him, we promise and we'll be smarter this time," Tommy said, his voice tailing off.

"Aye, you'll be smarter, but I'm thinkin' that the dog has to have something to do with this." Mr. Creighan's tone was beginning to become more forceful as he continued. "And I'm thinkin' that you've already been outsmarted three times by this murderous hooligan!"

The boys sensed that they were fighting a losing battle even though Mr. Creighan had never said no to their proposition. They got up and bid their goodbyes and started toward the door."Boys, boys, okay, ya can use ol' Rock, but I'll be goin' with, so pick me up in the morn before daybreak."

The next morning came soon enough and the boys were anxious to see Rock work, as he was an unproven hunter. Much to their surprise, he seemed to be right at home. He worked the shallows like he had been doing it all his life. He had tremendous hunting instincts and after all, he was a Blue.

After going out for three straight days and no results, Mr. Creighan was becoming increasingly frustrated. He thought that this would be over by now. He wasn't sure if he wanted to stay on and he would take Rock with him if he abandoned the hunt. But the boys convinced him to continue for a few more days and that they were sure that something would come of it very soon.

And soon it was. They had taken a day off to have a breather and went back the next day. They decided to go directly to the haunts of that monster where the other dogs were lost. They went to the part of the river where they had last seen him. It was the most likely starting point if they wanted to find him.

As they were combing the rivers' edge and the brush along there, they heard a crashing sound and some splashing a bit ahead. They hadn't seen anything as the noise had come from around a bend in the river. But Rock knew.

He snapped to attention in the classic terrier stance. Head high testing the air, ears cocked forward and tail erect. It gives the appearance of getting ready to spring. He was frozen in that position for a moment, muscles taut. He didn't flinch.

In the blink of an eye, he bounded forward, as if catapulted. He stopped dead with barely a bounce. He must have traveled eight feet in that movement. He snapped into the stance again, but only for a flash. He snorted as if in disgust, and was off at top speed. He was splashing along the rivers' edge with the four in hot pursuit.

When Rock entered the river, the boys and Mr. Creighan had moved to high ground to get a better angle to see. By then, Rock was swimming toward the middle of the river, and "that" otter was there waiting for him.

As was his habit, the otter circled to his left to attack the dog from the right. But Rock seemed to know all of his moves. He turned his body to the right and met him head on. When the otter attacked, Rock feigned to the right and ripped a gash in the otters left cheek, from the corner of his mouth back about three inches. The otter, being very graceful, was able to retreat without further damage. But he attacked again very quickly. This time, Rock caught him on the right shoulder. The otter, now in a rage, decided to dive and attack from below. Rock appeared to panic, turning and looking in all directions, his head moving in a herky-jerky motion. It almost looked comical, but all knew that a life and death struggle was unfolding out there.

Rock suddenly turned tail and started to head toward shore. The otter, in an attempt to drag Rock under, managed to get ahold of Rock's rear legs and briefly drag him down. But Rock was able to break free and continue toward shore, with the otter in hot pursuit.

The boys and Mr. Creighan had been watching silently and with great intensity, but Tommy broke the silence with disgust. "Aw, look at em, an Irish Blue, and he doesn't have the courage of a wee little mouse."

"Now wait a minute Tommy me boy, that's one hell of a rascal out there," Mr. Creighan shot back in Rock's defense. Tommy turned his back because he couldn't stand the sight any longer, and just as he was about to walk off, Sean and Mick began to holler.

Tommy turned around to see that Rock had reached a point where it was shallow enough for him to plant his feet and he whirled to face his pursuer. The otter, in his rage, rushed blindly into Rock. Like a cat, Rock pounced on the otter and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. In a jerking motion, Rock raised the monster out of the water and flung him ashore. The otter was hurting bad now with blood streaming down the entire front of his body and Rock with barely a scratch. No longer in his safe haven, the river, the otter panicked and tried to run under some brush. But Rock would have none of that now. It was time to finish the job. He scrambled out of the water and with precision like moves, subdued the demon and swiftly snuffed him out.

The otter went limp and Rock dropped him to the ground. Standing over him, Rock looked around wagging his tail, with his mouth open, almost smiling. That's a trait of an Irish Blue. If one is pleased with himself, he'll look around to see if anyone else is too.

The boys were sure pleased and Mr. Creighan was just happy to have Rock all in one piece. The boys all surrounded Rock and fell to their knees hugging and fussing over him. And he was happy to get all that attention.

Tommy finally spoke. "Ol' Rock here out-smarted that rascal and that was the difference between a Blue and our dogs. He lured him onto solid ground where he had a chance," Tommy said beaming now. And when he spoke again he just blurted it out. "Now Mr. Creighan, if you're thinkin' that maybe ya wouldn't be wantin' ol' Rock any longer, I could take him off yer hands ya know." And when he realized what he was saying, he tried to hide behind the other boys in his embarrassment.

With a laugh, Mr. Creighan replied. "Tommy me boy, that's a dream that you'll be dreamin' for a long time."

THIS STORY IS DEDICATED TO MR. THOMAS DOBBIN WHO LIVED THE REALITY WHEN HE WAS A YOUNG BOY IN IRELAND. THE STORY HAS BEEN EMBELLISHED FOR THE READER'S ENTERTAINMENT, BUT THE BASIC PREMISE OF IT IS TRUE. TOM WAS A GOOD FRIEND OF ANNE AND I AND WAS ALSO A MEMBER OF THE KBTCC IN THE 1960'S. HE FINALLY WAS ABLE TO AFFORD HIS IRISH BLUE AND OBTAINED HIS FROM AUDREY WEILAND WITH THE "MO CAIRDE GAEL" PREFIX WHICH MEANS "MY IRISH FRIEND." TOM DIED A YOUNG MAN, AND WE WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HIM AS "OUR IRISH FRIEND TOM." - Charles J. Zuganelis