This is a story sent to me from my old friend Kelly O'Meara. Kelly wasn't quite sure if his brother Dennis wrote it, or his mother Marilyn. Dennis didn't remember writing it and Marilyn passed away in 2023. It seems as though it was written by Buckshot herself.

I remember Buckshot. She was mostly Beagle with a few other breeds thrown in. She was mostly white with black specks throughout her coat. I guess that's why they named her Buckshot. Buckshot was a legendary coon dog. Local hunters would ask to borrow her, hoping that her hunting skills would rub off on their own dogs.

Here is Buckshot O'Meara's Autobiography, Dedicated To The O'Meara's On Christmas Day 1972

The bond of love and friendship between man and dog is greater than I can illustrate. Only in my own life's story can I give an example of this never-dying bond. A family to which I was brought home and shared love with.
It was a warm spring morning when my mother gave birth to me and my four brothers and sisters. As we wriggled around in our small bed of hay in an old barn, hunting for our first meal, I heard the first sounds of life. The birds sang their song of welcome to the spring as they fluttered from tree to tree; and the brook nearby roared fresh with new melted snow. Oh, to open my eyes and see the world!
A week has gone by since our birth; our eyes are open now and we begin to play. What's this? A family. Oh what a nice family. Look at that cute little boy! Big snapping eyes, red curly hair and freckles. He has red freckles, mine are black. And as the family comes in to view their new addition, I get a glimpse of the outdoor life. How green the grass is and the sky is even bluer than I imagined. Oh, to roam free in those woods! To chase a squirrel up one of those towering pines; to smell the flowers blossoming; to roam free over the hills and race like an eagle down to the pond! Wow! Life is grand!
Well, here I am, six months old and happy. Remember the little red-haired boy? His name is Kelly. Kelly Sean O'Meara. What an Irish name; just perfect for him. The family I live with is just great! Kerm and Marilyn are the parents, and their children are Dennis, Eileen, Brian, Karen, Patrick and Kelly. All great people and the love they show me is overwhelming! I'm so glad they brought me home. Dennis taught me to hunt, my favorite pastime. The minute he'd take the rifle off the gun rack, I'd be there in a flash, wagging my tail in anticipation. And away we'd go, roaming over the hills and through the forest, racing and feeling free like the wind. The best part was coming home with an armload of coons, a "good dog" pat on the head by everyone, and a big bowl of food. After we all sat around and discussed the big hunt, I'd crawl under the big wood kitchen stove and relax.
The warmth of that stove comforted me, but more than anyone could imagine was the comfort of from the family life I shared with those around me. The clatter of dishes as everyone sat around a big table having a warm, hearty meal; the voices and laughter of all. Oh, what a grand life for a dog!
Now I'm an old dog, but still young at heart and a lot of hunting days in front of me. I'm a little older, and maybe a little wearier, and lonesome for my best hunting buddy, Dennis. He's married now and has a daughter and is way out in Colorado in the Army, where no coon dogs are allowed. Eileen and Brian are both married now too, but I always greet them with wagging tail when they come to visit.
As the years have passed and the family has grown, I have come to realize how wonderful they are. I live in a closely knit family, full of love and laughter and sharing and understanding. They claim I'm the best coon dog ever born. I'm good at rabbits too. My fame is known all over as the only Beagle who can out-hunt a real, trained coon dog. I bet they don't know the reason I'm so good. It's not only because I enjoy it so. I do it because I love them so, and they mean so much to me. I come home from a successful hunt with a big grin on my face. And although they can't see it, they know it's there. The pride I feel when I come home to my family and hear all the "good Buckshot" remarks, is just too much to put into words.
My family. I love them all, and the best part of all is, I'm part of it. I'm so glad I'm Buckshot O'Meara!

Ken Batten grew up on a small sheep farm in West Topsham VT. He was a logging contractor, soldier and rural mail carrier. He now lives in North Hyde Park VT with his wife Tina-Marie. You can contact Ken at kenbatvt@gmail.com or PO Box 5 N Hyde Park VT 05665

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