My name is Gunner.

But if you’re in my house, you’ll hear “Gun Gun.”

I’m a four-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer, and I was born with a job to do.

I’m a sporting dog, bred to hunt, use my nose, and work side by side with my human.

I’ve been with the Joneses since I was a puppy. But it didn’t take long to realize, I wasn’t meant to be just a pet.

I was meant to work.

And more importantly, I was meant to work beside my dad.

Cory is my alpha. My leader.
Everything in me is wired to follow him.

For as long as I can remember, Cory has led me. When I was six months old, he brought me to train with Ethan, a world-class duck dog trainer. That’s when the real training began.
 
Life in chain-link runs.
Sleeping on hay shavings.
Living with twenty other dogs.

It was discipline. Structure. Repetition.
It was boot camp.

No shortcuts. No distractions. Just work.

I learned how to blood trail deer — to stay locked onto a scent no matter where it led.
I learned waterfowl retrieval — steady, focused, patient.
I learned upland hunting — controlled energy, sharp instinct, absolute obedience.

I learned how to wait.
 How to listen.
How to work.

It made me stronger. Sharper. More aware.
But it also tested me.

Seven months is a long time.

I celebrated my first birthday without my dad.

I stayed disciplined. I did the work. But part of me wondered if that drop-off had been forever.

Then one day… he came back.

I saw him. I didn’t run to him right away. I stood still. Watching. Measuring. Trying to understand.

And then… he pulled out my puppy blanket.

That scent cut through everything.

In an instant, I remembered exactly who I was — and who I belonged to.

And just like that, I was moving — straight to him. 

No hesitation. No distance left between us.

Because no matter how much training shaped me, nothing changed our bond.

He’s my alpha. I am his dog.

Everything I learned, I learned so I could work 

beside him.

These days, I’m always ready.

You’ll find me riding in the truck with my dad. That’s one of my favorite places to be. Eyes forward, alert. I know the route to the farm in Bibb County. The creek, the land, being out there with my dad, that’s what I love most. And working beside him, doing what I was trained to do, that’s where I belong. As we get closer, I know it. The turns. The air. I know exactly where we’re going.

At home, I’m still working. Watching over my family is part of my job too.
 
I nap in the sun in the backyard and play with my brothers. They’re wild, but so am I. We run, wrestle. They even climb on my back sometimes. I let them.

One time, when my family was out of town and my grandma was watching me, an older dachshund in the neighborhood went missing in freezing weather. 

My dad saw our neighbor’s post on Facebook and said, “Get Gunner.”

So they did.

I picked up the scent. Stayed with it. Followed it all the way to the backside of the neighborhood.

And we found him.

That’s what I’m trained to do.

That’s what I was made to do.

But more than that, it’s who I am for him.

Because this life, this discipline, this work… it all comes back to one thing:

Standing beside my dad.