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All Rights Reserved
As Published As A Series In Dog Days
The Puppy
Part I of a Series
While on our honeymoon, we were notified of our transfer to another state. Nice timing.
We moved. Found our first house and settled into our new jobs. Soon thereafter, the discussions started. I wanted a Lab and she wanted a Cocker. Since neither of us had ever had a dog, it was a senseless argument. We hit the library and checked out the AKC Book of Dogs. With this ammunition and several more arguments, we selected a Springer Spaniel.
Well, it was bigger than a Cocker, but smaller than a Lab. It should be just right for our home. We started the search.
After visiting every pet store in town and calling all of the new people we worked with, we were stumped. How could it be this hard to simply buy a dog? Once again, opening "the book", I called the AKC in New York.
A very nice lady explained that it was not AKC's policy to recommend breeders. Now what? She said we could try the Parent Club but she did not have a number. I assumed this was a placement agency for people wanting dogs and grabbed the phone book. No listing for a Parent Club. I called back to the AKC and they offered to send me a listing of the "top ten" Springers in the country. Not understanding what a top ten list was, I jumped at the opportunity.
The list arrived in the mail about two weeks later. As I ripped open the envelope, scanned the list and grabbed the phone, I thought, "This is going to be easy, I'll have a new puppy by dinner time!"
The first call was to the breeder of the top winning dog. As the breeder answered the phone, I blurted out that I wanted to buy a puppy. After a few minutes of questioning, I hung my head as I hung up the phone. How rude. Just because I have never owned a dog doesn't mean I can't take care of one. Just how hard can it really be? And who do they think they are telling me I could get on their list for a puppy and in a few years maybe actually get one?
The next few call were all similar. I was quickly becoming depressed. I re-scanned the list and saw that four of the top ten were owned by the same people. Well, I thought, if they own four of the best, they must have one for me. I dialed the number.
A very gruff old man answered. I had, by now, refined my pitch. I stated that I was new to the area and the AKC had given me their number. Would it be possible for me to inquire about the availability of a puppy?
I listened to the same old story. No, I have never owned a dog. No, I don't know what it will take to take care of one. Yes, I have a large fenced yard. No, I do not know a vet, but I will find one. No, I do not want to show the dog. Yes, I want a pet. Yes, I promise to give up my first born if you will sell me a dog. I even offered to throw in my company car and a set of golf clubs just to see one that might be available.
YES! They had several puppies available. If I could be there tomorrow, I could see them. I got the address and the general area where the breeder lived and said I could be there about 10 am. I smiled as I hung up the phone. I had located my new puppy!
It was friday night, about 8 pm. We threw clothes in a bag, and ran for the car. We headed out of town, into the mountains and directly into the largest snowstorm of the season. being "flatlanders" from the Gulf Coast, we'd seen snow, once or twice. Who us concerned? Nothing would stop me from crossing that 500 miles to reach my puppy.
As the night got darker, and the snow got deeper, we started to question our sanity. Prodded by our desire, we pushed on through the night. If we could get across one pass, it was downhill all the way to our puppy. When the police stopped us, at the foot of the pass, to inquire about our chains or snow tires, I blankly stared out the window and explained that I must get through, my new puppy was waiting for me.
He laughed and said if I was crazy enough to cross Wolf Creek Pass in a snowstorm, when the locals were holed up at the bar, it must really be a special puppy. His expression changed to disgust when he understood that we had never even seen the breed of dog except in a book. He shook his head and waved us on, up the pass and on to our puppy.
Ten nerve wracking hours later, we crested the pass and headed downhill. I thought I had seen and done everything to just get up the pass, going down was worse than a nightmare. We were humming the Simon and Garfunkle song about "slip sliding away ..." and keeping a sharp eye on the guardrail as we crawled down the mountain.
At 9:30pm, we pulled down the snow cover dirt road and entered the breeder's property. Not bad, five hundred miles in only 23 hours. We struggled through the snow banks and banged on the door.
The very gruff old man who I had talked with on the phone, answered. As I tried to brush off the snow, and not freeze to death, he said, "You here about the puppy? You're late. Come back tomorrow." His wife, peeked around the door, saw us looking like two frozen popscicles and invited us in.
He wasn't really gruff or old. he was a drill instructor at the Air Force Academy and she was a school teacher. They had been breeding Springers for over twenty-five years. They thought we were locals who had changed our minds and just not shown up earlier in the day.
As we warmed up, we told them of our trip. Their eyes grew in size and the laughter started as we detailed our trip up and down the mountain. We were told that all of the dogs in the kennel were asleep and that we would need to wait until the morning to see the available puppies. Since it was about thirty miles back to town, and the snow was still coming down, they invited us to stay in their home.
As tired as we were, we could not sleep. The anticipation of seeing "our" puppy, kept us awake all night. By the time the first light of dawn backlit the mountain, we were up and ready to see the dogs. There was no time to waste on breakfast, let's just go to the kennel. An hour later, we were holding two beautiful puppies.
I was surprised. One was black and white and one was liver and white. The "book" had only had a picture of a liver and white one. There really was not a choice. The little black and white one just tugged at our heartstrings. We named him Beefeater, after a bottle of gin, promised to be good parents and headed home.
A thousand miles, over 70 hours, a new friendship, a blinding snowstorm and more ice and snow than we thought existed and we were home. We had our puppy! Little did we know that the easy part was over and the hard part was yet to come.
Obedience Class and the Dog Shows
Part II of a Series
As proud new puppy owners, we heeded our breeders advice and started searching for a puppy obedience class. Out came the yellow pages and we let our fingers do the walking. The choices we had were numerous and with great care, we reduced our choice to one of three sites. We decided to personally visit the trainers and each facility before making a decision for the youngest member of our family.
Arriving at the first site, we saw about ten dogs and their owners in a discussion with the trainer. After introductions, we sat back and listened. The trainer explained that this would be a three week class, two nights a week. At the end of the class, our dog would be trained in the five basic obedience principals. Sit, stay, down, come and heel. He spoke of a simple method which involved "conditioning" the dog to respect the commands. As we watched, he demonstrated his method of using a shock collar to condition the dog. We grabbed Beefeater's lead and ran for the door. This was not what we wanted for our new son.
The second site was an asphalt parking lot. It was warm, about 104 degrees and the dogs and owners were miserable. This was not going to be training, it was going to be purgatory. We fled to the air conditioned comfort of the car and headed for the last facility on our list.
Arriving at the site, we noticed the difference. An air conditioned building, knowledgable trainers, and friendly people. Was this going to be our solution? After an hour of introductions, lots of hands on attention and support, we were hooked. This was where we would bring our son for his training.
The classes flew by. Each day at home, as per the instructions of our trainers, we worked Beefeater for three sets of training. Each set being about fifteen minutes long. At the end of each training session, we spent lots of time just playing with him and trying to make him understand that when the classes were over, so would be all the hard work. He would be, in our mind, a completely trained and trustworthy dog. We would not need to worry about him, either on or off lead, when we had visitors, went on walks or took him with us on trips. We were obviously in a mental fantasy land.
Beefeater picked up the principals quickly. The training became fun for him and us. We looked forward to each class, and before we were ready, they were over. It was graduation night. The proud parents and their "children" lined up for their certificates. As his name was called, we led him to the center of the ring and received his certificate. Written proof that our son was now fully trained and ready to face the world.
After the ceremony, we heard about additional classes which would allow the dogs to receive a title from the American Kennel Club. Since our dog was now completely trained, we did not feel that he needed any further training or a title.
One of the trainers suggested that since Beefeater was so pretty, that we enter him in a local dog show, called conformation, for beautiful dogs. It sounded like fun. No more hard work in training, just run around the ring and show the judge how nice and well behaved the dog was. We entered the next show.
We were so proud. He was one of four dogs in his class. Even though the judge placed him in fourth place, we left with smiles on our faces and a bright yellow ribbon. This was great. We take our dog to a show and the judge likes him so much we receive a ribbon.
I hung the ribbon on the wall in the den, next to his obedience certificate, while Peggy completed the forms for the next five shows. Gee, we now owned a show dog.
The next five shows were similar. In each case we left with a ribbon to hang on the wall. It was always the third or fourth place, depending on the entries, but it was a ribbon! Now we were convinced that this was the best, most perfect dog we could have ever added to our family. At the shows, the other owners of our breed always thanked us for entering. They talked about it being so nice to have someone who would enter and help them make "points". They always encouraged us to enter the next show and told us how much easier it was going to be for them to "finish" their dogs with us entered. Gratefully, we accepted their compliments and rushed home to enter the next show.
The night after the tenth show, the telephone rang. That very gruff voice of Jack, our breeder, rang in my ear. He ranted and raved about us dragging "that" pet around to the dog shows. He explained that we were impugning his kennel name and that he was receiving calls from other owners asking how he could have sold "that" dog as a show dog.
In no uncertain terms, he commanded us to come to Denver for a regional speciality, where he would give us a show dog -- that would win and not be an embarassment to him -- if we were going to continue to enter dog shows.
Once again, we loaded the car and headed off on another thousand mile round trip to visit our friends. We arrived at the show site and were told to, not unlike obedience, to sit and stay. Brenda, Jack's wife, entered the ring with a beautiful liver and white bitch. She was so beautiful, we could not even imagine adding her to our growing family.
Around and around the ring she flew. The judge pointed to her and everyone clapped and cheered. A few minutes later she was back in the ring. Again the judge pointed to her. Later that day she entered the ring again on three separate occasions. Each time, the judge pointed to her and the crowd went wild.
As Brenda exited the ring for the last time, she handed the lead and a handful of ribbons and rosettes to Peggy. Jack said, "Now you have a show dog!, leave the other one at home."
Her name was "Ali" and she was six months and two days old. On this day she had won her class, Best in Sweepstakes, her puppy bitch class, Winners Bitch and Best of Winners at a regional specialty for a five point major. Now she was ours. We really did own a show dog.
As we drove home with her, we discussed our plans for the upcoming shows and thought, "just how tough can this conformation stuff be, when we own a dog that is this good"?
As The Years Flew By
Part III of a Series
It was supposed to be easy and the first three shows were. Then, after six weeks, she just quit winning. We had a great puppy and now we were confused.
One more series of shows was coming up, Astrohall. We quickly entered and the first day of the shows, we placed forth out of four in our class. Dejected, we returned to our grooming area. Quite a misnomer for us, as we had no idea that a show dog needed to be groomed.
A very nice lady walked by our setup area and stopped to look at our puppy. She took us aside and told us that although we had a very nice bitch with a wonderful ring presence; it just wasn't enough to win over the competition. The feet were not groomed, the hair on the neck was too long and please, do something about that growth of hair on the tail.
She explained that she had watched the ring because she once owned Springers and just loved to watch them "move". She was going to walk around to look at the other dogs and talk to the handlers and we were welcome to join her. As we walked, it seemed that she knew everyone in the building. She stopped everywhere and seemingly talked to everybody in the hall.
She introduced us to several other Springer handlers. We looked at their dogs and noticed that even after they left the ring, they continued to trim, brush and groom the dogs. We met a nice couple who had three Springers and a gaggle of other dogs. It seems they were "professional" handlers who were showing their client's dogs. Several hours later, we decided to hire one of the handlers to show our little girl for the next few days.
We expected to drop her off at ringside and watch them "win" with her. Quickly we were informed that they would need her to stay with them for the rest of the day. We could pick her up tomorrow after the ring time and then drop her off each morning.
As the afternoon progressed, we watched the handlers transformed our puppy from an ungroomed mess into a show dog. We spent the rest of the day learning how to groom, stack and present the puppy in the best manner. As we left, without our puppy, we thought that this might be a little harder and a lot more expensive than we had originally planned.
She finished her championship quickly, and a year later we bred our first litter. Like all first time breeders, we felt they would all be show dogs. Frequent trips back to study with our mentors and numerous discussions with other handlers and breeders convinced us otherwise.
One of the puppies had the potential and flair to enter the ring, and one I just fell in love with. In keeping with our initial naming scheme, the bitch was named Daiquiri and the dog was named Tequila Sunrise. About a year later, Daiquiri became our first home bred champion and Tequila became our first CD dog.
The bills were mounting up. With entry fees, travel, food, supplies, a new house and kennel; this "show dog" thing was becoming expensive. We pressed on.
One night, we received a call from our mentors. They were going to retire and sell their kennel. Could we come up and see them before they moved? We agreed and planned a trip for the following weekend. After three days with them, it was time to leave. As we walked to the car, Jack gave us the paperwork on two of their bitches. He said that he knew we would take care of them the way he expected. Shocked, we accepted the number four and number six ranked bitches in the country. Both multiple group winners, these bitches would become our new foundation for a showing and breeding program which they had developed over twenty-five years before.
As we drove the 1,200 miles back home, we thought to ourselves that "now our lives had really gone to the dogs". We planned for the future and promised ourselves that we would continue the breeding program and traditions which our mentors had started.
We were learning about dogs and trust and commitment. We were starting to understand the burden which had been placed on our shoulders to carry on in their footsteps, but were we good enough or dedicated enough to see it through? Was this just another expensive hobby, or would we really, as was expected of us, follow through and commit ourselves to this endeavor?
Time would tell.
After The Puppy
Part IV of a Series
It's been over 20 years since that night we drove through the snow to get our first puppy, yet it still seems like only yesterday. His picture still hangs in the den next to a photo of a two year old clutching a plywood cutout of a dog while, in the background, his mother runs around a show ring. All of our original breeding stock is now gone. In their place are new generations of offspring to carry on our responsibility of attempting to produce only the best animals to help the breed prosper.
Numerous litters have, over the years, taught us many things about people and dogs. The least of which is that you can make money by breeding dogs. Instead, it has become a lifelong love affair both for us and for the dogs. Our various homes, throughout the years, have been designed and maintained (as the sign next to our front door states) "for the comfort of our dogs".
Some of our friends, from our previous life "before dogs", have drifted away as we have moved closer and closer to the dog world. They have been replaced with new friends, clubs and organizations which, like us, dedicate most of their time to the dogs. We plan our weekends, vacations, automobile purchases and spare time, around the dogs. Which show to attend, which breeding to perform, or which day to take off from our jobs in the "real" world, are all centered around our life with the dogs.
As we look back over the years, we smile as we think of allthe "firsts" which, each time, we thought were going to make this sport "easy" for us. That first motorhome, the first kennel, the first Group placement, Championship, Obedience Title and Tracking Title. As we reached each of these milestones in our lives, we were sure that "now" we were there - now it would be easy". It is not easy to succeed in dogs, but it is rewarding!
The learning process continues as we grow older and (hopefully) better at what we do. We've learned about genetics, medicine, emergency care, grooming, training, and how to plan a trip by air, car or motorhome. More than anything else, we've learned about planning and goals, even though in the midst of that we have also learned about overcoming a heartbreaking loss of one of our "friends". Whether researching pedigrees or airline schedules, we've worked to keep ourselves informed on what may be the "best" method to perform a function and how to be a good sportsman when suffering a loss at a show or test and consoling ourselves over the loss. We've solicited advice from other breeders and trainers and have tried to mold that information into a plan for the future which will allow us to continue to do what is best for the breed.
One of our new friends once told me that "it is more than a responsibility, it is a mandate that each of us should give something back to the sport". Whether it is in the form of training, support of an organization, volunteering at a show/trial/test, or mentoring another potential prospect, it will assure that there is someone to take over from us when we finally "call it a day". Any of these, or simply trying to inform the public in general (through the various medias available to us) can help to spread the word that working with dogs is both an enjoyable and fulfilling experience. We think that this adds value and quality to our life, and helping others to find this continues to be one of our primary goals.
Occasionally, when I answer the phone or respond to e-mail, I find that I have, myself, evolved into that "gruff old man" that we met twenty years ago. I catch myself blitzing the potential owner of one of "our" puppies with questions on their lifestyle, housing, fenced yards and other questions which I though were so irrelevant when I made my first call "just to get a puppy" -- a call which might change their lives forever, as it did ours!
© 2003-1996 - Ed Presnall - All Rights Reserved