What were we doing?

 

What were we doing?

Photographs like these pop up in our displays all the time and they stir many memories.

Just before Christmas in 2009, we were delighting in our baby black Labrador puppy, Gus. He adored Frodo, my Velcro dog and spent as much time as he could tucked up with him or following him around. Frodo was an awkward dog with anyone he didn’t know, including other dogs, but was as gentle as could be with all the young ones in our family, whether two or four-legged. He was a faithful, loyal companion. He had many health problems, but he taught us so much. There are a number of blog posts about his life.

Gus grew into a very handsome boy, much admired by those who met him. He was a kind, sensitive dog, always anxious to please. He lived with enough dogs in the family that he never felt the need to meet and greet other dogs, though he was perfectly friendly if they approached him. He wrote many blog entries.

They are both much missed. Being remembered by those who loved them grants them immortality.

                ‘Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.’

Orhan Pamuk (1952-present)

Dates to remember in March

 

Dates to remember in March 2024

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

March 1^st is St David’s Day. St David is the only patron saint to be born in Britain and he died on this day in 589 AD. Welsh people will display their national pride by wearing daffodils or leeks and dressing in national costume.

 Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus!

9^th to 12^th March at the NEC in Birmingham will see the annual dog show, Cruft’s. It is an opportunity to see well-bred pedigree dogs trotting their stuff and also to witness the extraordinary lengths their breeders and owners go to in presenting their charges at their best.

On grooming tables, hapless pooches will be strung up tightly so that they can be ‘trimmed’. Some will have curlers in their fur, later to be brushed out and completed with a pretty bow. Others will have chalk applied to the white parts of their coats, though Kennel Club rules demand that no chalk is left in the coat when the judge ‘goes over’ the dog. Chalk is also used when people are stripping their dogs’ coats, to give a better grip.

All the exhibits are required to have short, neat claws, so there will be a great degree of nail clipping going on.

Apart from the beauty pageant, there are many other things to see. At ‘Discover Dogs’ 200 breeds of pedigree dogs can be seen and petted. Friendly and knowledgeable owners are very happy to talk about their chosen breed and advise on their suitability for specific circumstances.

The Kennel Club Dog Hero Award competition is an opportunity to honour and applaud the very special relationships that arise. Some dogs show exceptional bravery, others are support dogs, sensitive to the indications of approaching epileptic seizures, or diabetic problems among other things. Some are assistance dogs that help owners with disabilities, like deafness or autism. Then there are the Search and Rescue dogs, the police and military dogs.

Agility and flyball competitions are a great favourite with the crowds. Many of the dogs participating are small breeds, and inclined to be fairly vocal. The ones that win the hearts of the audience are the mischievous dogs that don’t quite do what they should and make everyone laugh.

‘Heelwork to Music’ is a chance to see what dogs are capable of, given the chance.

Police and Gundog displays are always impressive and ‘Scruffts’ is an arena for the beautiful, intelligent, non-pedigree dogs to shine.

The last day of the show is where every human competitor longs to be, in the finals. The dogs don’t care one way or the other. I hope the winner this year represents a healthy breed that hasn’t been adapted to man’s opinion of what is beautiful and ruined in the process.

My Velcro dog, Frodo the Faller, qualified for Crufts in 2002. You can read about him here and velcro here.

Sixteen years

 

Sixteen years

Sixteen years have passed since these photographs were taken. Our Dalmatian years lasted for 30 years, the last one, my velcro dog, Frodo the Faller, leaving us 9 years ago.

                                        Frodo the Faller, my velcro dog

I’ve heard all sorts of stories about Dalmatians. Some people asked us if black-spotted Dalmatians turned brown in old age, or did the liver-spotted turn black with age? One person told me that liver-spotted Dalmatians were not regarded as proper Dalmatians. They are ‘proper’ Dalmatians and some breeders try to specialise in the liver-spotted variety. Many people were surprised to learn that the puppies are white when they’re born, developing their spots from the age of about two weeks until 18 months or so.

                                    Dominie of the thunderous paws

It is a fact that puppies born with coloured patches used to be destroyed at birth. Whether this was because it was thought the patches might become cancerous or because it demeaned the breed or the breeder in some way is unclear. Patched puppies are no longer destroyed and haven’t been for more than forty years. They make fine pets, though they will not be destined for a show career.

                                        Buddy Liver Spots

Like most white or piebald animals, Dalmatians have a tendency to deafness, but this is being addressed with careful breeding and BAER testing (Brainstem Auditory Evoked Response) of registered breeding stock. There are some unregistered breeders so deaf pups are still born. With careful, patient training they can be wonderful dogs, but they require a lot of work.

                        Buddy Liver Spots and Frodo the Faller

We greatly enjoyed our Dalmatians. They were fantastic running companions for Barry and would also walk for hours with me. Now we lead lives more suited to rambling, Labrador Retrievers have become our companions once again. We have come full circle. We started with a Labrador, then had the Jack Russell years, which overlapped the Labrador. The Dalmatians ran concurrently with the JRs for a while, and then led back to Labradors.

                Jenna. the little Labrador with the enormous paws, with her tracker and cow bell, never happier than when retrieving

Gilbert the Good

 

Gilbert the Good

My humans have said that I can write my own blog posts now that I am six months old, just occasionally you know, not daily, or anything like that.

Gus-who-came-before-me used to write a blog quite regularly. He came from the same kennels in the Welsh Marches as me, and so did Jenna. Jenna was Gus-who-came-before-me’s half-sister. Jenna was small but I don’t think she was only half the size of Gus-who-came-before-me. 

Jenna wearing her tracker. It used to say things like, 'Treed her quarry' when she was off chasing deer. 

Bertie came before me too, but they're all pushing up the daisies now. I don't know what that means.

 

              Bertie, King of the Kong

Anyway, they’re not here and when their photographs appear on the big window on the wall, my humans get sad and say how wonderful they were and then they start talking about all the things they did – the dogs, that is.

They go back yonks and laugh about the JRs, and the Dalmatians. All I hear is, ‘Do you remember?’ and obviously they do, or they wouldn’t talk about them. They sound fun, although they always say Frodo-the-Faller was a handful. Does that mean he was so small the humans could hold him in their hands? The humans told me the vets called him their problem child, but I thought he was a dog, not a human.

Gus-who-came-before-me adored Frodo-the-Faller and talked about him quite a lot in his blog posts.

Frodo-the-Faller in his prime

Anyway, I’m a very special puppy, with big paws to fill. When I first arrived here, my humans kept calling me Gus or Bertie, but my name’s Gilbert. I think they’ve learnt it now. Humans are quite slow, sometimes.

Sleeping with Herschel

TTFN

Gilbert

For all the dogs of our lives

 

For all the dogs of our lives

Frodo the Faller

When the American playwright, Eugene O’Neill, and his third wife lived in Paris in the 1930s, they had a Dalmatian called Blemie (Silverdene Emblem) He travelled to the USA with them, eventually dying on 17^th December, 1940. His headstone reads, ‘Sleep in peace, faithful friend.’ 

O’Neill wrote ‘The Last Will and Testament of an Extremely Distinguished Dog’ a few days later and his words will resonate with anyone who has ever loved and lost a dog. The following extracts contain the essence of the whole document.

‘There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to all those who have loved me. I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. 

One last request I earnestly make. Now I ask, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again.’

The will in its entirety can be found here.

Gus, Bertie and Jenna

Jenna

Frodo the Faller

Fetch! (and try not to fall over)

Splooting

 

Splooting

Roxy splooting 

Most of our dogs have adopted the hearth rug position, limbs stretched out fore and aft, from little Jack Russell, Busy Biddy to big Dalmatian, Frodo the Faller. Watching Roxy relaxing today and demonstrating her hearth rug technique, I dimly recalled hearing or reading something to the effect that this pose was not good for dogs, could damage their hips, or some such thinking. I felt this could not be right, as so many of our dogs have done it with no lasting damage, or, indeed, any damage at all.

Puppy Bertie splooting 

There is potential for damage, if passing humans are not looking where they’re going. A dog is a trip hazard at the best of times. For the dog, being mistaken for an actual hearth rug could be perilous!

I looked it up and discovered there is a name for ‘hearth rug dog’. Apparently, ‘splooting’ has long been associated with Welsh Corgis, but many other breeds also do it, as do cats, rabbits and other four-legged animals, like squirrels and lizards.

One explanation suggests that animals sploot to stretch their joints. Another thought is that they do it to cool down when the weather is very hot. Dogs can only sweat through their pads and so stretch out to expose as much as possible of their skin to cool surfaces.

Anyway, splooting is my new word of the day, but there will be limited opportunities to use it.

A Life Full of Animals - part two

 

 

A Life Full of Animals – part two

 

Dominie and Jenna. Jenna could barely step over the threshold!

We have always been available to look after our adult children’s dogs. Taking care of Foxy, Gillian’s fox-red working Labrador puppy, made us realise how much we liked and missed Labradors, and so Jenna came into our lives from Shropshire. We asked for the biggest black bitch in the litter, as she would be living with Dalmatians, which are quite big dogs. Well, she had big paws and that’s as far as it went. She remained a little dog with big paws throughout her sixteen years.

 Playtime with Frodo

We didn’t know there were pheasant in the forest where we walk, until Jenna flushed them. She also chased deer and would disappear into the distance, so we put a cow bell on her, to hear when she was near and an electronic tracker, so that we could discover where she’d been. We think it was because she had Dalmatian companions, who don’t generally retrieve, although they can, and are built for long distance running, which she wasn’t. Once she had Labrador friends and relations she never disappeared again.

 Jenna with tracker 

Jenna was a very sociable dog. Whenever we were out walking and saw people in the distance she would always go to greet them, even if she had never seen them before. Once she had done that, she would be content to come back to us. She maintained that endearing habit almost to the end of her life.

Jenna and Gus

Her half-brother, Gus, four years her junior, pointed out to us the difference between dogs and bitches. We had always assumed that bitches were easier, even though we had had dogs as well as bitches. They are smaller than dogs, generally, Dominie being something of an exception. The Jack Russell and Dalmatian bitches were biddable and faithful, but Jenna, our first Labrador for nearly forty years, reminded us that this particular breed is different.

Gus

We had forgotten how independent they are. Jenna was friendly and loyal but inclined to follow her own path, which was actually never far from ours. Gus stayed close to heel and like Buddy Liver-Spots before him, spent much time and energy trying to keep his pack together. His most worrying times came when we had an extended family walk with several dogs. As the line of people lengthened, so he rushed back and forth from end to end, trying, so we thought, to chivvy the laggards to increase their pace, and the leaders to slow down.

Buster, left, and Bertie 

An exception to this rule was Buster, Bertie’s brother, who went to live with Gillian and her family in Dorset. They were beautiful fox-red working Labradors. While Bertie was a sensible, sober dog who never wanted to be found wanting in the behaviour stakes, or anywhere else, Buster was capricious. He enjoyed charging off in all directions. Bertie enjoyed greeting other dogs, but once introductions had been made, he was happy to return to us. He was a perfect gentleman with a wonderful smile. Gus’s smile showed just his front teeth but Bertie’s was full and wide and accompanied by snorts of pleasure.

Roxy 

Three days after Frodo died, Roxy was born in Shropshire, (all our Labradors have come from the same kennels in Shropshire, where the dogs are bred for temperament first and foremost) and it’s fanciful to think that some of his spirit was reborn in her, mainly because she is a counter-surfer, the only Labrador we’ve known to do this, although Gilbert is showing signs of following in her paw-steps. In every other respect, she’s her own dog, friend to all, human, canine or feline.

Jenna, Gus and Bertie all died within eleven months, which was heart-breaking. Gus and Bertie died in August and October last year so Roxy rapidly went from being the youngest to the only dog and she was really depressed. She had never known life without another dog and although the cats were company it wasn’t the same. So, in January this year, Gilbert came to live with us.

Gilbert soon after he arrived. He was smaller - that is, shorter than the cats

Now he is thirteen weeks old and growing apace. Herschel is gaining the ascendant, as cats do

At the time of writing, both cats have taken refuge from Gilbert inside the fire guard and are about to start taking lumps out of each other. A stern ‘No squabbling’ from me usually stops them in their tracks. Although they’re litter brothers, they are very different. Herschel is a standard Ocicat, spotted and striped and a third bigger than Jellicoe. Jellicoe is a classic tabby-patterned Ocicat, now known, bizarrely to my ears, as an Aztec. They are extremely affectionate and always in our company. Their brother, Isambard, died when he was seven.

Isambard, Jellicoe and Herschel

Our first two Ocicats, Winston and Monty, also died young. Monty was only three and Winston was six. Our vets did their best, but were puzzled. As one set of medications sorted out one problem it revealed another and it became a roundabout of symptoms and decline. They were stunning animals.

Winston and Monty  

We then had a couple of years without any cats until one day we were startled by a house mouse. I like mice, the pet variety, but didn’t want to encourage wild mice, so we did our research and acquired the three brothers ten years ago. Barry says they were his best ever birthday present.

Herschel

Cat in a basket - Jellicoe

We haven’t had house mice since and Herschel regularly patrols the integral garage. I don’t think they’ve ever caught anything indoors but have certainly captured rats and mice in the garden. A foolhardy young squirrel met its end from Herschel and Jellicoe has killed a wood pigeon, which he dragged through the cat flap and deposited at the foot of the stairs. Happily, birds do not figure largely in the death statistics and, unlike the Burmese, they don’t trap frogs. They are not avid hunters and prefer to spend their time in the garden lounging in high places and looking beautiful.

A Life Full of Animals - part one

 

A Life Full of Animals - part one

I have never known a time in my life without animals, apart from the three years I was at college.

My earliest memory is of Bob the Collie, for whom my father laid a place at the table. There followed Sombre the Smooth-coated Collie, Ginger the cat, Punch the Springer and Judy the kitten.

The first dog Barry and I had was a yellow Labrador called Whisky. She was three years old and she was my birthday present from Barry when I was in my final year. I couldn’t keep her at college so Barry kept her in the officers’ mess at RMCS Shrivenham, where she led a very convivial life. She was a patient and very friendly dog, and eventually a great companion to and protector of our young children. 

Whisky with Gareth

We thought her not to be a natural guard dog, barking only at buses and ladders, until one night in Northern Ireland when Barry came home very late, she barked menacingly at him before she realised who he was and was then abjectly apologetic. She was not averse to helping herself to choice morsels from other people’s shopping baskets, when the opportunity presented itself, and enjoyed ‘picking’ blackberries, too.

Biddy with Gillian

As she aged and our children grew, we decided to get another dog, to ease the pain of Whisky’s passing, when the time came. Thus we acquired Biddy, a 7-month-old smooth-coated Jack Russell terrier, (JR) the long-legged variety now known as Parson Jack Russell. She had already been cubbing and never lost her penchant for searching underground, once disappearing for several hours and emerging mostly brown, rather than her usual tan and white. She was enormous fun, always seeking to ingratiate herself by sliding round on one shoulder in front of one of us and submitting. She was very much Barry’s dog, loving to huddle inside his jacket. When he wasn’t around, Biddy’s preferred companion was Gareth, particularly in the forest. She was expert at climbing trees.

Biddy and Gareth

After Whisky died, Biddy was lonely, missing her old companion and so we got Leo, a rough-coated, short-legged Jack Russell. He had been a stud dog and in our innocence we thought we would have no problem keeping him and Biddy apart when she came into season. How wrong we were! Biddy had five adorable puppies, and we kept Daisy and Sam. Daisy was a very pretty broken-coated girl and liked sleeping in the cat beds we suspended from the radiators, for by now, we had a cat, a beautiful brown Burmese.

Leo

Susannah, Gillian and Gareth with Biddy and her five puppies

Daisy

Daisy, Sam and Biddy at the seaside

This came about because Susannah had wanted a rabbit. We had experienced heart-ache with Gillian’s previous rabbits and so persuaded Susannah that a cat would be preferable. We called her Alicat and we were encouraged to breed from her. JRs are reputed to be cat killers but when we brought Alicat home, Daisy jumped on my lap, watched by the other three, and we never had a problem. Of course, each of our then three children had a different favourite kitten and soon our menagerie grew, until by the time Bethan, our fourth child, arrived, we had four JRs and nine Burmese. We also had guinea pigs and pet mice and gerbils, all of which reproduced at will.

Sam with Susannah and Bethan

Bethan with Barry, Sam and Daisy

Sam was also broken-coated and immensely strong for his size. He loved collecting logs, the bigger the better. He really was a big dog in a little dog’s body. He and Leo did not get on once he grew up, so Leo went to live with my parents. Sam’s life was short and sweet. Out running with Barry one day, he ran off and was knocked down by a car. He died unexpectedly after surviving a few days with the vet. He was six years old. Biddy had spent much time licking his ears and little Daisy was somewhat overlooked. Clearly, Sam was his mother’s favourite and she pined for him.  We commenced our search for our next dog. 

I had long wanted a Dalmatian and soon Cariadd joined our family from Wales. She was smaller than the JRs when she first arrived, but soon outstripped them and proved to be a good problem-solver.

Biddy and Cariadd

Cariadd. Bethan, Biddy and Daisy

Barry holding one of Cariadd's longer 'sticks', watched by Bethan

She specialised in carrying long branches, more like young trees, through small gaps and was the perfect running mate for Barry. She also had a terrific smile, which worried people who were not familiar with dog smiles. We were sometimes told, ‘Your dog’s snarling at me.’

Many breeds of dog smile, or snark, some with closed lips, others with varying degrees of tooth display and nose wrinkling. I must admit it can look quite alarming!

I believe that once you have two or more dogs you can never go back to just one. Dogs need dogs and the one that’s left alone becomes depressed. A ‘new’ dog, whether baby puppy or older dog, rejuvenates the survivor and rekindles his or her energy and enthusiasm.

When our last JR, Daisy, died, we had to find a companion for Cariadd, and this came in the form of Dalmatian Dominie, from Devon, four months old and a really big puppy. She was as soft as butter, a little dog in a big dog’s disguise. Cariadd, not noted for her maternal instinct, allowed the youngster to chew her neck and never grumbled at her. Dominie was not well coordinated as a puppy and fell in our pond every day for a week as she thundered over the bridge, but she grew into an athletic dog who could turn on a sixpence, giving any chasing dog a great work out.

Dominie with our eldest grandson, Callum (now 25 and an expectant father)

We were very taken with our Dalmatians, delighting in their elegance and intelligence, and it was good to have not one, but two big dogs to which we could reach down a hand to be nuzzled. As Cariadd aged, and, sadly, dogs age too quickly, we decided to look for a third Dalmatian. Bethan had enjoyed building obstacle courses for Cariadd and was keen to try showing a dog. Dominie, beautiful though she was, was simply too big and Cariadd had never been keen on the show ring.

We thought it would be fun to have a liver Dalmatian, so green-eyed Buddy left his home in Cornwall to live with us. His eyes didn’t remain green. He was a handsome boy, devoted to Bethan. When we brought him home, Dominie’s expression was one of pure joy. We could almost hear her saying, ‘My puppy, oh, my puppy.’

Dominie with baby Buddy

Labradors are renowned for being greedy, but Dalmatians can match, if not outpace them. Ours all learnt very quickly that food was freely available on work tops and we had to find places they could not reach. Naturally, they didn’t attempt to thieve while we watched. We were careful about not allowing them ‘dangerous’ foods, like grapes or macadamia nuts, but even so Buddy demolished a chocolate cake and lived to tell the tale. Our grandchildren still laugh about that.

Buddy does the leg work while Dominie waits

In the meantime, the cats were ruling the roost, and attempting to find a way into the fish tank for a tasty fresh snack. When they had a spat, as cats do, they would find a dog to curl up with. The cats never attacked the dogs, just each other. Sometimes, a dog would stand between two arguing cats, to calm them down.

Cariadd and 6 Burmese

After Buddy came seven-month–old Frodo, from Lincolnshire, a dog bred primarily for looks rather than temperament. He was always gentle and loving with everyone in our household, particularly Buddy, but reactive with unfamiliar dogs, not a good trait in a show dog. He became my Velcro dog and remained so until his death seven years ago.

 

Frodo the Faller