Hungarian Vizsla has been my favorite breed of dog for years since I owned one 25 years ago.

On a recent trip to Rogers, Arkansas I had the very fun experience, spending five days with my nephew’s Vizsla named Sunny. They named her Sunny for two reasons. First, her always sunny disposition, she wakes up happy and excited to do anything her people family is doing, especially if she is invited to play. Second, the clean, fine hair that covers her slender, muscular body is the color of a sunrise; it shines in a golden tone.

My time with Sunny, while her master was in Scotland, gave me ample time to recall wonderful memories of my Vizsla, Nutmeg. Since 1997 she has been waiting for me at the big golf course in the sky.

During the years that we owned and managed Mille Lacs Golf Resort (Northwood Hills today) on Mille Lacs Lake near Garrison, I spent every day with Nutmeg, “Nutty” for short. Her color was a perfect match for the spice, nutmeg. Even as a pup she claimed an owner share in our beautiful golf course. If Nutmeg had worked for Walmart, her job description would have been “Greeter.” Each person she encountered every day was met with a gentle greeting in a slightly submissive posture with her bobbed tail wagging slowly. As she approached, she would push her nutmeg-colored nose into our guests’ palm, in a gesture saying, “Let’s be friends.”

My brother, a retired chiropractor, would have rather been a poet. The following is a poem, that he wrote about his observations of Nutty on and around the golf course. Please enjoy.

Nutty, by JD Smiley

The sign at the course… No Dogs Allowed,

But there sits Nutty so tall and so proud.

A dog on the course breaks the oldest of rules.

Watch where you step, beware of the stools.

Chasing the gopher, the course she would run.

She’ll really run fast if you shoot off your gun.

A great looking dog, a hunter she is not.

That’s ok, cause we love her… a lot.

She’d go in the boat, but not in the lake.

She got in it once, all she did was shiver and shake.

When the weather gets cold, before the fire is built…

You would find old Nutty under the quilt.

At the table she did not have to beg,

Happy to share with our pal Nutmeg.

She’s gone forever, but won’t be forgot.

We picked out a tree as the burial plot.

Couldn’t ask for a nicer old dog or a better buddy,

Than my faithful old friend, we called Nutty.

Each day Nutty and I would spend several hours cruising the golf course on my golf cart. Her, self-assigned, position was in the right hand seat next to me. She acted as a sentry, always at attention as we patrolled the course. Her head moving like a periscope in a submarine looking for any gopher or squirrel that trespassed onto her domain. Even when traveling at full speed on my EZGO cart, Nutmeg would spring from her perch at the sighting of any trespasser. The extremely athletic dog would hit the turf running at full speed and close quickly on the vigilant intruder.

Rodents are prey for most animals who must kill each day to eat. They are always on the lookout; if not, there is no tomorrow. The wariness of a rodent, who must forage to survive, makes them very hard to catch. They always know the escape route nearby. Squirrels race to a nearby tree while gophers always have an unmarked gopher hole in close proximity.

As Nutmeg closed on a squirrel they almost always leaped on a tree spinning to the far side and the scampered up to safety. Nutty would make one snapping bite as she slid past on the closely mowed turf.

On rare occasions, Nutty would catch an absent-minded gopher. With the instinct of a predator, she would give the helpless rodent two quick shakes snapping its spine. The very proud Nutmeg would hop back on the cart in the assigned position with the gopher hanging limply from her usually friendly jaws. In a few minutes she would tire of displaying her trophy and I would dispose if it the nearest trash can.

One of Nutty’s favorite pastimes was playing a round of golf. With years of experience, she knew the entire 18-hole routing perfectly. Including the timing. For those of you who have played the golf course you will remember the wooded hill to the right of # 2 green. When I stopped the cart on the path beside the green, Nutmeg would race up the hill in search of, who knows what. Not be seen again until we parked around the curve in the cart path beside the 3rd tee. Perfect timing, she would show up as we were hopping on our carts to leave the tee.

For years we had a Coke vending machine at the practice green near the first tee. For one entire summer the chipmunk who made his home under the vending machine tormented poor Nutty. They played a game similar to tag. The chipmunk would peak around the corner of the machine and Nutty would dash around it. The rodent was hiding securely under the Coke machine. The game could last for hours. Customers waiting to tee off, loved the spectator sport.

The twenty plus years owning and operating a golf course were special, but Nutty made most of those days extra special.