When My Dad was a young teen, he had a terrier named "Tuffy".
Tuffy was a born rat killer (as are all terriers), and at that time there was a two bit bounty on rats. Dad would send Tuffy in under the grain elevators at the edge of town to catch rats and then collect the tails.
It wasn't long before he had enough bounty money to buy himself a .22 off the used rack at the hardware store.
That old Savage pump went everywhere with him, and filled the stew pot regularily.
When Dad was about 20, he and a friend were shooting muskrats in the local reservoir from a canoe when the wind came up and capsized them.
The old Savage laid in the mud on the bottom for a whole year, till the water levels were lowered the following fall for dam maintenance.
Dad spent a whole day digging around in the mud, and found his rifle!
He gave it to me when I turned 14, and the old pump went everywhere with me - and filled my stew pot regularily!!
I slipped on the ice one day and fell on the buttstock, shattering it

It was just a couple of years ago that I finally found a replacement and did my best to bring the old girl back.
Someday, I've got to get around to taking some nice "after" pics with decent backgrounds like you fellows have done.......