KENNEL NOTES

Evening Star, Issue 22275, 28 February 1936, Page 14

KENNEL NOTES

[By Tail-wacoek.]

Having advertised extensively without result, Mr Haynes asks for assistance in an endeavour to trace his wire-haired fox terrier named “ Bill.” “ Bill ” is a well-bred terrier, pure white but for a small black patch on his head, and lie was lost from Saddle Hill on Tuesday, 18th. The clog’s collar number is 77, and is said to have been seen at Mosgicl. As he lias been accustomed to living in a city, the chances are all in favour of his making for populated areas. “ Bill’s ” home address is 252 Bay View road. DOG KEEPING: ITS HORRORS AND ITS JOYS. The fascination of the dog is responsible for both. If the following lines, in which all incidents are imaginary, while away an hour or so they are justified; if they teach anything it is to the good; if they help a fellow doglover it is what I would like best. Your old dog has died. The blank is terrible. You and your husband, newly married, bought him as a puppy when you crossed the threshold of your first home together. Your next door neighbours and those in the rest of the suburban road had also watched him grow from puppyhood till 14 years of age, and all had a pleasant word for him and you. “ Get another dog at once to take your mind off his loss,*’ you are advised, “ but one of another breed will be best; you won’t be so much reminded of old “ Bob.” The newcomer Was a jolly little terrier, and he occasioned great interest among the pleasant neighbours, and as he was six months old you were advised to exhibit him at the local show, the secretary putting you wise as to registration, etc. But you were ignorant of the points of any breed, and you did not know that in this particular case the crooked legs and the curled tail should have been straight, and that a Dachshund length of back was not required, nor yet the yellow eyes you thought so beautiful. This was duly explained to you at the show, and ■ everyone was so nice to you that you caught your first horror, show fever, and you were prevailed upon to join “ the club.” The hospitality of the other exhibitors was unbounded, and you were covered with invitations to visit kennels and look at puppies; you were offered the latter cheap to “ give you a start,” you were even offered brood bitches for nothing if you agreed to give the owner “ choice of litter,” and others were ready to give you, without any stipulation at all, older dogs for the sake of getting them a good home. Your number of dogs rose rapidly; you accepted dogs for a homo from that party; you bought a brace from a dispersal sale ”; you bought a litter of nestlings with their dam from this person, and a couple of brood bitches from that, and then the second horror—overcrowding and ground congestion—descended upon you within a twelve-month. The little house, of which you both had been so proud, grew torn and drab, paw marks disfigured the walls, the glass in the french window was always muddy or dusty, the cushion covers quickly slit, and the interiors began to smell of ‘ 1 dog ’ ’; the pretty carpets of 15 years before were dotted with light-coloured patches; the garden became a wilderness of weeds and terriers’ holes, the lawn upon which so much time and money had been spent was given over to baby puppy runs; the rose bushes did their best, but wilted under thb attention of the grown-up males. So many dogs, so little time in which to see them, even though your husband did help you to “ feed ” in the evening, on bus return from the office. Then winter and winter pups, and a room inside is given over to the nursing mothers; two cages against the wall, a box on the sofa: out of the draught, you see. and on the floor a puppy or two, where they could get the benefit of the fire. Meals became irregular and scrappy; your husband took to having a midday dinner in the city, in order that the maid, who had been with you since ynnr marriage, might have mure time to help with the dogs. Occasionally you sold a puppy, but you loved them all so much that you did not care to part with them, and there was always the chance that you might turn out. a champion, no matter now discouraging the big breeders were in this idea. You worked ceaselessly with soda and disinfectant; the grease used for raakisg the dogs’ coats grow got behind your nails, and ,iour hands began to look dreadful. The friends you once were so glad to see became a bore, because they always interrupted something; if they came in the forenoon you were cleaning the kennels, and tea, if you stopped to have any, was a hurried affair, because you had to prepare the dogs’ food for the evening meal. By this time you had some really nice terriers and were beginning to figure in the prize lists. This raised your temperature in your attack of show fever, a poison which increased in virulence with every outing. Then came the third and worst horror—distemper.' One day you saw a puppy, which was off colour the day before, sitting gloomily by itself. You prevailed on him to take a little food, hut he was sick, so you sent for the “ vet.” Then you learnt the truth, hut had no idea what you were going to face. By the end of the week you had six adults, including the show dogs, and 11 puppies ill. Sick dogs everywhere, but you did your best. The maid, worth her weight in gold, took her own two favourites to her room. You used sandbags and bolsters at the doors to keep out draughts and get your temperature to an even 60, keening the fires going day and night. For three whole months you nursed dogs. Your nerves were frayed to shreds, your husband could hardly keep nn with his work for lack of sleep, and the loyal maid was driven almost distracted. You would slip into the sick looms and pour a little nourishment into the unwilling mouths, but just as vou got into your warm bed again you thought you heard a noise and then began to wonder if you had made up the fires again, or seen that their lamps were safe, and you had to make certain. Another quarter of an hour and you heard a puppy cry, and had to get up and see what it was—tho bottle needed refilling, and then it was time to feed again with a teaspoon of warm food. Every night the same, until gradually the night feeding lessened and bigger meals were taken, and eventually the horror was pronounced over. By now you had realised that tho place was not big enough, for dog-keeping on anything but a small scale, and as the latter did not suit _ your views you decided to waive sentiment, and for the sake of the

dogs leave the little house to which .von had come as a bride. The new purchase was admirably adapted for your purpose, right in the country, yet on the main road, and a point much stressed by a doggie friend, “ unrestricted ground.” The only fly in the ointment was the refusal of your longsuffering maid to leave the locality in which she had been so long. This was a blow.

As in your last place there were neighbours on each side. Kindly, welcoming folk they seemed, the women most anxious to tell you who to talk to ahd who to have nothing to do with; and tho men eager to help, erect the kennels and the runs, and to lay the cement for the latter. Having had to buy kennels, their erection was easy, but the wiring round the runs and the cementing provided a job for your neighbours for a considerable time, all very thinning to the purse. But your hearts grew light as feathers, such a splendid place for the dogs; they could ho out all day with perfect safety in their runs and the wired in paddocks, and you and your husband would have a little free time together. But the netting was not like the short, solid oak partition in the other garden, and the dogs rushed and barked at the open fence as the neighbours went to and fro, and the latter did not like it. So at further appreciable cost you reengaged the delighted men who were so interested and sympathetic about the dogs, which led to so much remuneration, and they fixed up a solid partition on the side of the dogs’ paddock. The neighbours’ legs on that side, now being left screened from the terriers’ sight, you once more felt content with your new surroundings, for there was already a new netting fence on the other boundary, which, your builder told you, saved you all expense and annoyance, as it was the neighbour’s fence.

But, alas, here was Iwrror No. 4, for the child on the other side of “ their ” fence could not be taught to understand that bacon rind, sponges, rabbitskins, rubber bands from paste pots, and old tins was an undesirable diet for dogs, and persisted in throwing these articles over in either some kind of game of her own, or as taking your lawn as a refuse dump. A suggestion that these and other articles of like description should be kept on their own side of the fence led to a “ few words ” with tho parents who. once the “ jobs ” had been completed, did not appear quite so friendly. More expense in putting up a high fence of your own on this side, and jealousy because a fresh man was called in to do it. You began to be less satisfied with your removal, and longed for the old neighbours with their kind ways and marry greetings. Your new maid “ could not have dogs thought of before herself,” and walked out unexpectedly one afternoon, never to return. Another took her place, but a puppy mistook one of her best shoes for a bone, and so exit No. 2. No. 3 was a charming girl, but objected to the dogs’ pot boiling in the kitchen. No. 4 said she liked the place, but not the mud. No. 5 then made her appearance; she could not cook, and her washing up was open to question, dust lay unnoticed in the corners, but she loved the dogs, and was the essence of good nature, and for the dogs’ sake you kept her. Then the neighbours, those you paid for putting up the kennels and the fences, complained that the dogs’ barking annoyed them. Thev made your life a nightmare. Once again your nerves were becoming frayed and jagged. At last your husband did the wise thing, and sought advice. Your dogs do not make a sound after dark, the harking is not continuous, only spasmodic, the ground is your own and unrestricted,” said the lawyer. “ Try to keep the peace, but don’t let this matter worry you. They' must prove you are a nuisance.” “ Don’t let the matter worry you.” Advice that sleepless nights and jagged nerves make difficult to follow. “ You need a holiday right away from the dogs,” the doctor says, and you and your husband agree that next summer you will go away for six whole weeks if you can find someone to look after the dogs in your absence. Summed up in much fewer sentences hut meaning more than words can express. Your first challenge certificate, and when that becomes three! To take into the ring the dog you nursed as a puppy during the awful horror. Your hands shake, your heart thumps, you are not walking quite steadily, in the final lap you feel suffocated; the award is made, the generous-hearted ringsiders clap; as you look down at him your eyes are full of unshed tears, you are remembering the night all hope was given up, and only his own courage pulled him through. And now a champion! Your own home-bred little dog! Whatever heartaches he and his kind have given you, this first champion has repaid the debt in full. People begin to notice you and yours,, stud fees come in, the puppies sell. You have another champion. You know you have arrived. And so the road winds on for us, sometimes long and weary with worry. A dog hurts- himself the day before the show, a bitch casts her coat after the entries have gone in, the neighbours complain, the servants grumble ; but ever the dogs with their uplifted paws in welcome beckon us on. We know that the fascination of the dog has got us in its grip, and never can we be free of it until both man and dog do cease to lie.