My uncle believed you only named a dog so it would come when you said its name. And he never named a dog anything that started with the same letter as any of the other commands he used, because he wanted his dogs to snap to it as soon as they heard that first sound. Never used the command “come” since it wasn’t sharp enough to carry, so we always had a line of bird dogs named King or Coop or Crown or Copper. Nothing starting with an S, for sure. God forbid the dog sat down before running in. Nothing with an H, because “high on” actually meant to run off. Couldn’t have that either. No Ls. Lying down was not an option until the job was done. Bs were out, too. “Be still” was a big one in the blind. No Ds—“Drop it.” No Ls—“Leave it.” No Gs—“Go.” It was always good to know, though, that he only expected one thing to happen whenever he said a name.

Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. Jack’s work has appeared in Pidgeonholes, The Shore, Cotton Xenomorph, Okay Donkey, EcoTheo, The Hopper, Terrain, and other journals. His latest collection is No Brother, This Storm (Mercer University Press, 2018). He served as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017-2019.