He was always gentle and nonagressive. Although he would often trot out to the parking lot to meet arriving guests, he didn't bark, growl, or jump up on anyone.

With a wag of his tail, he simply escorted them from the parking lot, up the walk and to the front door.

He was eager to be friends, but never pushy about it.

But some sacrifices had to be made. Roufus was, after all, a coon hound.

Before Roufus came, we used to have Raccoons visit.

They would come up on the porch at night. Rhonda would crack the dining room door and offer one a cracker, which it would take, then back off a few steps and proceed to eat while keeping a close eye on us through the door.

We quickly learned to bring Roufus in by about 8 or 9 pm if we expected things to remain relatively quiet. And for the first few months, when we let him out in the morning, he would be down the steps and quickly begin the trademark hound dog baying as he ran around the grounds with his nose to the ground tracking the trespassers from the previous night.

Occassionally, he would not come in when we called him. I would get a flashlight and go out looking for him. I would walk around the building shining the light into the edge of the forest around the grounds. Sooner or later I would find him.

I would kneel beside him, pat him on the head and shine the light up into the tree at the coon that was sitting up there staring back. I'd say, "Good boy, Roufus. Let's go to bed." He would take one last look up the tree, then get up and follow me into the house. He could leave it once he knew that I knew he had done his job.

I've never been coon hunting, so I don't know for sure. But it seems to me that once a coon is treed, it would make since for the dog to continue to bay so the hunter would know where to come find the coon.

I never understood why Roufus lay there silently just staring up at his quarry. Maybe he knew I wasn't hunting coon. Maybe that's why he got dumped.

After a while, the coons begin to feel unwelcome and quit coming around. Roufus would go off some evenings, sometimes not returning until morning. I guess he still enjoyed the hunt.

Things settled into a great relationship. We all loved and spoiled that old dog, and he seemed real happy sleeping and eating at a Bed and Breakfast Inn.

We would occassionally have other dogs come up, especially during deer season. When they had collars we would contact their owners to come and get them.

One day a pickup truck arrived, and a man got out to collect his hound which we had called about that morning. As he walked toward his dog, Roufus came out to say hi. The man stopped in his tracks, and said, "My God, that is the fattest coon hound I've ever seen!"

But since the coons quit coming around, he wasn't getting nearly as much exercise.

And we were obligated, with the help of a lot of guests, to furnish plenty of treats, snacks, bacon and sausage bits, not to mention regular feeding.

Never-the-less, we had to admit:

Roufus was one spoiled old coon hound.

Roufus Gets Spoiled