We hear so much these days of people involved with the fancy whose main

concern is self-interest that occasionally stories which have a definite and unusual

“feel good” factor are worth repeating.

One of the joys of being involved with the world of pedigree dogs is, for me,

the opportunity to meet people who have devoted most of their lifetime to one breed,

developing their own line whilst always having an eye on what is best for the breed

as a whole. Some of these elder statesmen may not be the most academically gifted

of people, yet their depth of knowledge and passion for their chosen breed is nothing

short of remarkable, and their enthusiasm truly infectious.

Recently I had the chance to get to know someone who had previously been

nothing more than a casual acquaintance when he, like myself, was a houseguest at

our host’s, a mutual and long-term friend.

During the evening a name was mentioned that made my ears prick up. He

spoke with obvious fondness of a lady who had been one of his mentors when first

becoming involved in the sport, but who was to me simply a name in the history

books, and a highly revered one at that.

There were two stories in particular that locked in my memory and impressed

me greatly, which made it so clear for me to understand why this woman was

considered so remarkable and was so respected.

The first involved one of his early visits to the lady’s kennel. For the purposes

of this article I shall refer to her simply as “Mrs. B” At this point my new found friend

had shown just one dog, a male, with moderate success and was consumed with

curiosity about the breed. He was young, enthusiastic, and not unintelligent and had

a natural rapport with his own and other dogs. Having admired the dogs bred and

shown by Mrs. B since he was first introduced to the breed, and being well aware of

her standing within the breed, he dreamt of owning one of her dogs which he felt

would give him a good start as a breeder.

Very properly, he chose to write to the lady concerned, a very long letter of

introduction – emails had never been thought of in those far-off days - which was

written on the assumption that she would not know him from a bar of soap. He wrote

of how he saw the breed, what kind of dogs he wanted to breed, and asked if he

could be considered for a bitch puppy should one become available.

When the reply came, just days later, he was amazed to read that Mrs. B was

aware of him and quoted from that letter words which he had obviously memorised

there and then …

“You are the young man with that rather exuberant black dog I saw in the

Junior class at Bath, I believe. He is a good dog to start with as his type is excellent,

though I did not like his head and expression particularly. You will have to be careful

what kind of bitches come to him if you ever allow him to be used at stud. Perhaps a

little more road-work will strengthen his hindquarters as he seems a little weak at the

moment.”

The fact that Mrs. B had noticed him was something that impressed this

young greenhorn immensely. That she had studied his dog so accurately was

nothing short of miraculous, and rather than taking umbrage at her uninvited

comments, he took them to heart and acted upon them.

In due course Mrs. B invited him to her kennel to see the dogs. She was not

at this point contemplating selling him a puppy, but obviously realised that he was

serious about the breed and maybe wanted to ascertain whether or not he would be

a suitable owner for one of her well-bred hopefuls.

“She brought out dog after dog, asked me what I thought of them, which was

rather daunting,” recalled my friend, “and then had dozens milling around in the

paddock and asked me which I liked best.”

Presumably satisfied that this young man had something about him, months

on he was invited to visit Mrs. B again and look at a litter of puppies. There he saw a

litter of eight, four dogs and four bitches. He was shown the whole litter and asked to

pick the best. His eye was immediately drawn to one particular male, whereupon

Mrs. B quipped “You have a good eye, he’s not going anywhere! Now let’s lose the

dogs and look at the bitches …”

Studying the four puppies intently again he was asked to select the best. Two

appeared to be ahead of their sisters in my friend’s eye and he said so. Mrs. B then

told him that these were the two best bitches.

“One,” she said, “will be the better bitch to show. She has a prettier head, a

wonderful attitude and is a little shorter-coupled than her sister. The sister, however,

is better ribbed and has a little more scope. She is rather plain in head, though, and

rather dull in personality compared to the other bitch.”

Mrs. B then proposed what was the most generous and amazing plan. She

told my friend that she was going to let him have the better show prospect, her

reason being that she already had a large team in the ring and he would devote all

his attention to capitalising on this puppy’s assets. However she was convinced that

the other sister would be the better producer. She suggested mating his bitch

eventually, but if the puppies were disappointing, she would transfer the sister to his

ownership and let him breed a litter from her.

Understandably my friend was overwhelmed by this incredible gesture, and of

course he accepted with glee.

In due course his bitch won extremely well, she took her title and between

them they made a very formidable duo in the ring. The plainer sister was never

shown by Mrs. B but developed into a handsome workmanlike bitch.

When my friend’s bitch was of a breedable age he returned to Mrs. B for

advice, they agreed on a stud dog and the litter was duly produced. The puppies

were pleasing to my friend, yet Mrs. B seemed to think they weren’t quite good

enough. It was agreed that he should keep the best bitch so that he had something

new to bring out, but true to her word, Mrs. B bred the sister in his name and in that

litter was a quite spectacular male.

Again, the ever-generous benefactress said that she was not that keen to

keep another male in her already sizeable kennel, and that my friend’s smaller family

of dogs would be a better environment in which he could blossom. He agreed to

keep said male, the dog became one of the breed’s most significant winners and in

due course, when bred to his dam’s pretty sister, one of the most influential litters the

breed has known was produced.

This in itself is a story of amazing selflessness, yet there was more to come.

Years down the road, Mrs. B had a male who was proving a record-breaking

sire with Champions in virtually every litter. My friend had enjoyed a great run with a

top-winning bitch and suggested that she should be bred to this influential stud dog.

He discussed it with Mrs. B who asked to see the pedigree. Within minutes she said

“No, he’s not the dog for her.”

She based this surprising rebuttal on the fact that she considered there would

be “too much” of a particular male in the prospective pedigree, but she suggested

that a virtually unknown young dog – not in her ownership I might add – would be a

better choice.

My friend was taken aback at this reaction, but was happy to follow his

mentor’s suggestion and went to use the suggested young dog. The result was a

superb litter, and at eight weeks with great pride the breeder bundled the puppies

into the car and took them off to show Mrs. B.

“I will never forget that day,” he smiled, “I put the pups in the yard and let them

wander around, and asked Mrs. B what she would keep if they were hers. She

immediately pointed to one bitch which she promptly picked up and cuddled. I told

her that she was hers … a gift as a thankyou for all the help she had given me. She

argued violently and said she would not take my pick of litter, but I insisted that I

wasn’t taking her home.”

At that point Mrs. B seemingly shed a tear, and subsequently showed the first

non-homebred for years. It turned out to be her last Champion.

It is not very often that you hear stories like this, and I am so grateful to have

made that meeting and learnt more of this remarkable lady who clearly was a

breeder who did not breed just for herself, but for the breed. If only we had more of

her calibre with us today. Yet more heart-warming is the fact that my friend never lost

sight of the fact that his mentor had given him so much, and to her dying day treated

her with the reverence and respect she deserved. Today so many others in a similar

situation would automatically consider themselves an equal, indulging in convenient

amnesia.

© ANDREW H. BRACE