This particular part of the Sabine National Forest in Texas, called Boles Field, boasts something that’s doggone different. Deep in the woods, known only to a select group, seen only by a few, is an elite club. Members wait a lifetime to get in. It’s a club that has, well, gone to the dogs.
The National Foxhound Cemetery. I’m with my friend Barb Baird about cemeteries being fascinating places to roam, but I admit I chuckled at her dog cemetery story. But after finding the foxhounds, I kept the chuckles at bay, Barb. This was the most delightful discovery of our whole four-state excursion.
Twelve miles east of Shelbyville, in the heart of the forest, from all over the nation, the best of the best lie at rest.
You can feel the pride of ownership, of how the dogs were part of the family. I admit, I had to look up foxhound. I’m more familiar with coon hounds, Basssett hounds, bloodhounds, and chow hounds that I am with fox hounds. After reading up on it, I felt that I was in the presence of royalty.
I only hope when I’m gone that my headstone says something as good about me!
Read more of Traci’s musings at her blog here: www.momonvacation.blogspot.com
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