One hundred stitches and six weeks later, Scratch was in the hunt again. As soon as he was let out, he peed on a truck tire and bolted toward a scrubby patch of loblolly pine, where he came to a quivering point. Then, finding his footing, Scratch leapt skyward, flying higher than a dog should be able to, stretching for a chittering bobwhite as it flushed. In one incredible leap, muscle, bone, and heart functioned at maximum capacity. This was not the move of a finished pointing dog, but it made a bold statement: Scratch was back.