With that combo, I bet he was quite the character.
My Rusty was a Chihuahua X Manchester cross. He wasn't one of those quirky crazy ankle biters. He was pretty chill, but he did think he was a Mastiff.
He wasn't afraid of a damn thing! Nothing! He might had been 2 or 3yrs old when he was riding in the handle bar basket on my bike. We were on about a 15mile trip to to the lake. He was all chill laying on the towel I had so he could stand up if he wanted. All of a sudden he jumped up with his nose in the air, so I started looking around. I spotted a BIG coyote in the field. He spotted it just after I did. He leaped from the basket, hit the grass on the side of the road a rolling. He recovered and sprinted off in the direction of the coyote, barking his ass off. It did take 3 times hollering at him to get back to me, but he did mind me quite well.
He sure had a nose on him! When we when to the deer lease, one off the farm to market road, someone would roll down their window and tell him, "Riusty! Find us a deer!" His ears would perk up and his tail a wagging when he smelled one. You’d better start looking closely!
There was one big buck that evaded Dad and I for years. When Mom got to go with us, she'd tell him to look for Ol' Bucky Boy. Most often it would be late at night when first arriving.
I finally nailed him when I was13 or 14 with a shot about 330yds. Dad tried to say it was more like 400yds, but I knew how little that .243 dropped and my shot was exactly where I placed it. I must have caught him on an exhale, that heart shot dropped his ass in his tracks.
For the life of me, I can't remember the Crockett score was exactly, but it was the highest in the county for several years and my best by far. The taxidermist totally screwed him up.