The Dog Days of My Life: #12 - Frodo

We were quite content with our two dogs, Dominie and Buddy, and were not intending to add to our pack. I had given up my full-time job and was enjoying the freedom to walk with the dogs at any time of my choosing rather than having to fit it in around work. They were well-behaved, friendly and extremely good company.

We went to lunch one Sunday with a friend of Barry's from long ago. One of the other guests was looking for a home for an adult Munsterlander. We talked about it during our ninety minute drive home and then decided that if we really wanted another dog we would prefer a Dalmatian, another running companion for Barry. After many phone calls we came across a five-month-old dog from a very well-known kennels. His breeder, Karen Goff-Leggett, had three young males and had to find a home for one of them. She had decided that Frodo would be the one but she wanted him to go to a home with other dogs, preferably Dalmatians, where he would have company and be well-exercised. We duly travelled to Lincolnshire and returned home with the piratical-looking Frodo. He was born around the time of the release of one of the 'Lord of the Rings' films and had been named accordingly. His registered kennel name is Washakie Lord of the Rings. (One of the others was called Dudley as he was born at the time of Dudley Moore's demise.)

Karen had already entered him for the Windsor Dog Show when he would be just six months old. I needed a crash course in handling for the show ring. Our first visit to Ringcraft class caused Frodo to bark at every dog that came near him – not an auspicious start. We survived the first show – in fact Frodo qualified for Cruft's which is not as great an achievement as it sounds; a puppy qualifies if it comes in the first three of a class in which it's entered in a Championship show. I entered him for several more shows but the summer of 2002 was very hot and I thought it would be unwise to subject him to extreme temperatures so didn't take him along. At our next show, a Dalmatian show, we galloped round the ring with Frodo attempting to take lumps out of the other competitors as we passed. When it was his turn to have the judge 'go over him' he growled at her – just a very soft, back-of-the-throat growl – and for me that was the deciding factor. Maybe he would have grown out of his mistrust but I felt he was not happy in the ring and so his short show career finished. In fact, he is a very reserved dog until he knows someone and then he's a friend for life. He is the same with other dogs unless they visit our house.

As it transpired the decision was a good one for he developed epilepsy just before his third birthday. It is not very severe – his seizures are short and his pre- and post-ictal behaviour are neither pronounced nor long. He has had one eleven-month seizure-free period but now the fits occur every three to five weeks.

Because of his wary attitude to strange people and dogs we worried greatly about introducing young animals. We need not have been apprehensive for he has consistently shown himself to be the gentlest of dogs with puppies and kittens (and babies) He had never met cats before he came home with us but was fascinated by the two elderly blue Burmese cats we then had, nosing and licking them. When Singleton passed on he and blind Pansy searched for her for a whole day, looking in all her usual haunts – they were both very puzzled by her absence. A year later Pansy died and once more he came to question me with his beautiful, intelligent eyes. The two Ocicats we have now are very relaxed with him, batting him with soft paws, licking him and curling up to sleep with him.

We laughingly call him the 'Velcro dog' for he sticks to me like cleavers. When out walking he rarely travels more than ten seconds without turning to see where I am. Indoors he is my constant shadow when awake. The anti-epilepsy drugs he takes cause him to sleep very heavily, like a puppy or an old dog, so that I can leave a room without him waking and following me. However, should the phone ring he's awake and howling instantly. Indeed our neighbours tell us that they always know when we're out because they hear the howling. I hasten to add this does not happen frequently – we rarely leave home without our dogs!

So, although we originally had no intention of acquiring another dog our handsome Frodo has brought much laughter into our lives as well as quite a few challenges. He is extraordinarily affectionate and very protective of his pack. I could walk anywhere with him and feel completely secure. Of all our dogs he is the most responsive returning immediately when called or whistled - the others come when they've finished their interesting sniffs, or in Jenna's case, the pursuit of deer!

To learn more about Frodo you might like to read the 'Frodo the Faller' posts - 'The Adventures of Frodo the Faller' and 'The Further Adventures of Frodo the Faller'.

The Adventures of Frodo the Faller (2) reworked

This is a reworked post in response to interest shown by some of my commenters.

Deciding that the dog show world was not for our beautiful naughty boy was a blessing in disguise. Frodo had not started his Falling career at that point so we, or rather I (for my husband is patient with my wild dreams and ambitions but does not commit himself as readily and foolishly as I) was regretting his foreshortened profession as a Top Stud Dog since to achieve any success or even desirability (in the eyes of breeders/owners, that is; I don’t think the brood bitches care one way or the other what their mates look like) he would have to be paraded, sorry, exhibited, at many a Championship Show in order to gain his ‘tickets.’



Now to the general public tickets mean travel but in the rarefied atmosphere of the Dog Show World they mean kudos for the breeder/owner and the chance for the male dog to get his leg over. The bitches stand to be ‘served’ and it doesn’t seem like a very enjoyable experience for them. Unfortunately, they cannot lie back and think of England. In addition they have to suffer the indignity of being ‘tied’ for anything up to an hour, twenty minutes being the average.

This is the time when free-mating dogs in public can find themselves doused with cold water as shocked humans who find the whole process disgusting and even more so when displayed by dogs and cats, attempt to separate them. A torrent of water merely panics the dog and bitch who cannot escape from each other even though, soaking wet and cold, that is probably their dearest wish. It’s Nature’s way of ensuring ejaculation and impregnation.



On one occasion many years ago we had a dog and bitch mating. In our innocence we thought we would be able to keep our recently acquired three-year-old ex-stud dog away from our six-year-old frothy bitch. (We now have our female dogs spayed when they’re young!) He was much wiser than us! The resultant tie was observed by our eldest daughter, then nine years old. It didn’t have a damaging effect on her though she did enquire whether it happened to humans!



In my imagination Frodo had achieved and excelled in all the necessary stages of his calling and had become Sovereign Top Dalmatian, indeed Supreme Super Stud of the Natural World, were there such a title (though there’s much that’s rather unnatural and ill-advised in the Canine Canon – consider that the tiny Chihuahua and the stately Great Dane are both descended from the wolf!) I had not considered how I was going to manage his active life as a Dog in Demand. Where were the matings to be performed? Should the trysts take place in the kitchen or maybe the conservatory? How was the bitch to be accommodated during her stay? Perhaps the spare bedroom would suffice.

Even more, I had not thought about the times – and there certainly would be some – when his services would not be required. Did we really want our boy humping everything in sight, including our other dogs, our cats, the furniture, my mother-in-law’s legs?


No, Frodo the Stud Dog was really a non-starter, particularly when he began his Falling career, of which more anon.

The Adventures of Frodo the Faller

When Frodo was a little chap, before he became a Faller, we would occasionally take him to dog shows. He was always very excited to see all the different breeds of dog and could barely contain himself. Eventually it would be our turn to enter the ring – yes, Frodo is a dog. What did you think? Who would call a child Frodo? J.R.R. Tolkien did, for one, although now I come to think of it Frodo Baggins was a Hobbit, not a human. I digress – something I frequently do. I ascribe it to having had four children and spending my entire working life with young children. It's almost impossible to hold one's train of thought when interruptions are frequent, repetitive and insistent. Many are the profound ponderings, grand philosophies and life-enhancing schemes that have been half-developed and abandoned; rather like a lovely dream from which one is abruptly woken and to which one longs to return but cannot, or like the floaters in your eyes that you can never quite focus on. Maybe the fruition of such deliberations would have proved them to be half-baked so better they were left embryonic.

The first time Frodo and I ventured into the ring – on which occasion, by the way, he qualified for Cruft's, the supreme beauty show of the canine world, though for a puppy to qualify the requirement is a first, second or third place in a class, so it's not very exacting. Why should it be? A puppy is full of promise. To resume, the first time we went into the ring, neither of us had much idea what we were supposed to be doing although we had attended Ringcraft classes – well, only one actually, as Frodo was five months old when he came to live with us and his breeder had already entered him for his first dog show just after his six-month birthday. Not wanting to disappoint and convinced we had a puppy that was going to become an instant star we bravely went along. With hindsight we would have let the breeder down less if we had not fetched up at the show at all. Notwithstanding, we galloped around the ring, Frodo leaping and prancing like a circus horse and biting his lead, me trying to look as though I was in control. Finally, we were called to a halt so that the judge could 'go over' the puppies. I was now an unattractive shade of puce, which clashed with the purple jacket I was wearing, and panting heavily. In fact, I was panting more than the puppies. All the other handlers looked calm and collected. With good grace Frodo allowed himself to be handled. This could be the start of something big!

During subsequent shows, however, it became apparent that Frodo was enjoying the whole shooting match rather less than I was (and I was not happy to be careering round in front of so many people – I'm not a shrinking violet, but I don't like to be on public display) My handling abilities had not developed noticeably and added to the requirement to keep Frodo moving at a steady pace, showing off his superb conformation, gait and spotting (he's a Dalmatian) was the necessity to prevent him taking lumps out of the other exhibits as we charged past. The final indication that the show world was not for Frodo was when the judge was gently examining him and he growled (Frodo that is, not the judge) – a soft, back-of-the-throat, please stop growl, a warning that he was not enjoying the whole experience. So our beautiful boy was to be for our eyes only, never to receive the highest accolade in the show dog world, Cruft's Supreme Champion. As it was, it would never have happened anyway because shortly before his third birthday Frodo became a Faller, of which more anon.

The Adventures of Frodo the Faller - repost

This is a republication of a post from my early days of blogging and is the first of a series about our remaining Dalmatian. He is ten years old now but it tells of him as a pup.

When Frodo was a little chap, before he became a Faller, we would occasionally take him to dog shows. He was always very excited to see all the different breeds of dog and could barely contain himself. Eventually it would be our turn to enter the ring – yes, Frodo is a dog. What did you think? Who would call a child Frodo? J.R.R. Tolkien did, for one, although now I come to think of it Frodo Baggins was a Hobbit, not a human. I digress – something I frequently do. I ascribe it to having had four children and spending my entire working life with young children. It’s almost impossible to hold one’s train of thought when interruptions are frequent, repetitive and insistent. Many are the profound ponderings, grand philosophies and life-enhancing schemes that have been half-developed and abandoned; rather like a lovely dream from which one is abruptly woken and to which one longs to return but cannot, or like the floaters in your eyes that you can never quite focus on. Maybe the fruition of such deliberations would have proved them to be half-baked so better they were left embryonic. The first time Frodo and I ventured into the ring – on which occasion, by the way, he qualified for Cruft’s, the supreme beauty show of the canine world, though for a puppy to qualify the requirement is a first, second or third place in a class, so it’s not very exacting. Why should it be? A puppy is full of promise. To resume, the first time we went into the ring, neither of us had much idea what we were supposed to be doing although we had attended Ringcraft classes – well, only one actually, as Frodo was five months old when he came to live with us and his breeder had already entered him for his first dog show just after his six-month birthday.

Not wanting to disappoint and convinced we had a puppy that was going to become an instant star we bravely went along. With hindsight we would have let the breeder down less if we had not fetched up at the show at all. Notwithstanding, we galloped around the ring, Frodo leaping and prancing like a circus horse and biting his lead, me trying to look as though I was in control. Finally, we were called to a halt so that the judge could ‘go over’ the puppies. I was now an unattractive shade of puce, which clashed with the purple jacket I was wearing, and panting heavily. In fact, I was panting more than the puppies. All the other handlers looked calm and collected. With good grace Frodo allowed himself to be handled. This could be the start of something big! During subsequent shows, however, it became apparent that Frodo was enjoying the whole shooting match rather less than I was (and I was not happy to be careering round in front of so many people – I’m not a shrinking violet, but I don’t like to be on public display) My handling abilities had not developed noticeably and added to the requirement to keep Frodo moving at a steady pace, showing off his superb conformation, gait and spotting (he’s a Dalmatian) was the necessity to prevent him taking lumps out of the other exhibits as we charged past. The final indication that the show world was not for Frodo was when the judge was gently examining him and he growled (Frodo that is, not the judge) – a soft, back-of-the-throat, please stop growl, a warning that he was not enjoying the whole experience. So our beautiful boy was to be for our eyes only, never to receive the highest accolade in the show dog world, Cruft’s Supreme Champion. As it was, it would never have happened anyway because shortly before his third birthday Frodo became a Faller, of which more anon.

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

April 2024 A to Z Challenge

 

                                Belgian Malinois with bite tug toy

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

This year my blog posts for the April 2024 A to Z Challenge will be about the recipients of the Dickin Medal, which you can read about here. They are in alphabetical, not chronological order, within the different letters.

Y

Y?

There are no DM recipients beginning with Y, so Y is being used interrogatively.

Why did Belgian Malinois feature so noticeably in the list of Dickin Medal recipients?

I had the impression that Belgian Malinois outnumbered German Shepherds in the list of DM awards, but I was wrong – nothing unusual there 😉

However, when I looked more closely at the list of dogs, the six Belgian Malinois were all honoured in the 21^st century and of the eleven German Shepherds/Alsatians, seven were presented with their DMs in World War II and four in the 21^st century.

                            Belgian Malinois training as an attack dog

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In 1899, a German officer called Max von Stephanitz wanted to generate a reliable, calm working dog that could perform extremely well in several capacities. He cross-bred various herding dogs, seeking out those with good temperaments, intelligence, biddability and physical strength. Gradually, the German Shepherd evolved, and was later developed along two main lines, the Working dogs and Show dogs. The show dogs suffered under the strictures of the breed standard, which resulted in many dogs suffering from spinal problems, because it was considered more pleasing to the eye for the animals to have sloping backs.

From 1^st August, 2016, the German Shepherd breed standard was altered to acknowledge that the dogs should be able to stand comfortably, without being supported. Hopefully, we have seen the last of dogs having to use wheels for their hind legs because of poor conformation.

                    German Shepherd using wheels for stability and mobility 
                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

There are now two distinct coat varieties, the stock or short coat and the long coat. Breeding between the two is not allowed, at least for the show ring!

After the First World War, when sensitivities were acute, the Kennel Club of Great Britain decided in their wisdom that having a dog with ‘German’ in its name was undesirable, so the name was changed to Alsatian Wolf Dog!

During the Second World War the RAVC commonly called German Shepherds Alsatians, but in 1977 the original name of German Shepherd was restored.

The Belgian Malinois originated in Mechelen (called Malines in France) in Antwerp in the Flemish region of Belgium at about the same time as the German Shepherd. Belgian farmers sought herding dogs that would be reliable, versatile and vigilant. The Malinois proved well-suited to the variability of the tasks. 

The dogs herded the livestock, anything from ducks and geese to sheep and goats, pulled carts and guarded the farm, with an instinctive understanding of the farm boundaries. They were also fiercely loyal to their owners, and always alert, even inside the farm house.

         Belgian Malinois United States Coast Guard bomb dog, Ricky, wearing doggles, ear defenders and hoist jacket
                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Why have Belgian Malinois become so popular in defence work? 

German Shepherds and Belgian Malinois are both loyal and vigorous, intelligent and agile.  

Belgian Malinois are lighter and faster than Alsatians, with tremendous stamina, and more independence. They are more challenging to train than German Shepherds. While a German Shepherd may adapt to (active, not sedentary) family life in retirement, a Belgian Malinois is more energetic and requires much exercise and mental stimulation.

Military dog, German Shepherd Ada, is lifted by her handler after she clamps his arm. She does not release until told to.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Belgian Malinois are favoured by police and military forces because of their agility and energy, drive and, when required, aggression, though German Shepherds still fulfil a useful rôle and will continue to do so.

German Shepherd, MOD Guard Service dog with handler at Army Air Corps station, Middle Wallop, Hampshire, England.

The dog’s whiskers

 

The dog’s whiskers

This shows muzzle and chin whiskers. The muzzle whiskers are not as luxuriant as a cat's. Modelling them is the late Cariadd.

There is a similar phrase to the cat’s whiskers referencing a part of the dog’s anatomy. It has the same meaning but is somewhat redundant, since dogs not required for breeding are usually neutered, so the expression is meaningless. If you are unaware of the phrase, please ask.😊

Dogs’ whiskers serve much the same purpose as those of cats. In addition to eyebrows and muzzle whiskers, dogs also have whiskers on their chins and cheeks.

Cheek and under chin whiskers, as worn by the late Bertie

The muzzle whiskers are not symmetrically placed like a cat’s and do not grow in proportion to the size of the dog. This is fortunate since, although a chihuahua would have quite short whiskers, a Pyrenean Mountain dog’s whiskers would be long and strong enough to slice its owner’s legs. I exaggerate, of course, but only slightly. Dogs’ whiskers are very coarse.

The cheek whiskers are few in number and are used in the same way as the muzzle and chin whiskers, enabling the dog to understand its environment. The eyebrow whiskers serve to protect the dog’s eyes, acting as a warning that something is in the immediate vicinity.

                            Eyebrows, modelled by the late Bertie

 Although a dog is perhaps less acutely dependent on its whiskers, it is still rather unfeeling to trim its muzzle whiskers. It will affect the dog’s confidence. I believe it is sometimes done to ‘enhance’ the dog’s appearance, probably for the dreaded show ring.

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.

So you think you know Dalmatians?

The curse of the Dalmatian is that it is instantly recognisable. I don't believe there is a child alive in the Western world who cannot correctly identify a Dalmatian – and even many in Asia, following the 'Dalmatian on a bicycle' clip.
                      
(I have mixed feelings about this – bike riding doesn't come high in a dog's natural life, but as the dog's tail is wagging, I assume he's relatively unfazed, but maybe he's using his tail for balance . . . I digress!) We have Walt Disney to thank for this breed's recognisability (Is that a word? If not it should be!) The film was adapted from Dodie Smith's book 'The Hundred and One Dalmatians' which was possibly inspired by the birth of fifteen puppies to her own Dalmatian. (Now you know why we never bred from our Dalmatians – we ended up with more than enough cats when we bred our Burmese and they're a lot smaller than the dogs!)
The trouble is that the cartoon Dalmatians are impossibly cute and even in the remake, with real Dalmatians, (which caused a lot of anger and horror in the world of the Dalmatian breeder and exhibitor) they are portrayed as friendly, approachable bundles of fun – and they are, once they know you. Puppies, of course, are always delightful. An adult Dalmatian has centuries of breeding behind it as a guard dog, a protector of its people. These dogs were bred to run ahead to clear the roads of obstacles (people!) and to guard the carriages of their owners, running alongside to see off highwaymen. The most desirable dogs ran between the wheels of the carriages where, presumably, they were not easily seen. Imagine the shock to a robber when a spotted dog launched itself at him, barking and lunging.
A fit Dalmatian can run for hours. If the speed of the accompanying horse or bike increases the dogs maintain their cadence and simply lengthen their stride – they are a delight to see.
Anyway, along with the cries of delight from children, 'Look, look, Dalmatians!', come the inevitable comic remarks, 'Where are the other ninety-nine then?'
At the time of that question we had three Dalmatians - 101 minus 3 is . . . ?
'What d'you call him? Spot?'
I wonder why we never considered such an original name.
Added to this is the confusion of seeing a Dalmatian with brown spots (brown is correctly known as liver in Dalmatians, chocolate in Labradors, tan in Jack Russells, even brown in some breeds!) 'That's not a proper Dalmatian' was one confident comment. Another asked, 'Do they go brown as they get older?' in the same way, presumably, that some black clothes acquire a coppery sheen with age (or is that just mine?) Yet another onlooker wondered if puppies started off brown and gradually turned black.
Dalmatians are basically white dogs with the same potential problem that can afflict genetically white animals of any species – deafness! Responsible breeders are eliminating bi-laterally and uni-laterally deaf dogs from their programmes. Many more irresponsible breeders are not. Nonetheless, interested bystanders ask, 'Is blindness a problem?' Well, yes it is, for Buddy Liver Spots, whose sight has been deteriorating since he had meningitis three years ago – otherwise, no.
Having jumped these predictable hurdles there come the requests to stroke the dogs. Dalmatians are expected to show a degree of reserve but Dominie never understood this. She was a very big, extremely gentle girl who loved everyone, particularly children. Buddy, before his sight failed, was very fond of attention too but now sees only shapes and shadows and uses his limited vision in conjunction with his mouth to work out if the thing approaching is edible – this can be off-putting! (Did I mention that Dalmatians are very greedy, easily as gluttonous as Labradors though without their amazing siphoning speed? Our grandchildren have never forgotten the incident of the cake.)
By now, some two minutes into the encounter, it has become obvious to all but the blind and deaf that Frodo the Faller is not at all happy that strangers are approaching his people, especially his woman – me! (I suppose you could say I'm his bitch.) He takes 'a degree of reserve' into another realm. He is shouting for all he's worth, looking every inch the guard dog. At home he is as gentle as a lamb, a sweetheart with puppies and kittens and babies, allowing cats and dogs to share his food or even take it away from him. Out of doors his job is to defend. He will not attack – that is not his way. He will merely keep danger, in whatever form it appears, at bay. To this end he resists friendly gestures from dogs and humans alike.
Appointing himself as my protector made showing him an interesting exercise. As a pup he simply wore suspicion in his eyes. When he grew up he started to grumble softly when the judge 'went over' him. When we galloped (inelegantly, in my case) round the show ring he attempted to take lumps out of any dog he considered was moving too close to me. Neither he nor I enjoyed his show days and we stopped with some relief when he embarked on his falling career.
Trail bikes, motor bikes, quad bikes are all forbidden in the forest but it remains a favourite venue for them. One day, a youth on a trail bike roared past Barry as he ran with the dogs, nearly crashing into them. Frodo took great exception to this and accelerated after him, deaf to all commands to return. Eventually, Barry caught up with him. The youth's bike had broken down and he was on his knees in a ditch with Frodo preventing his escape. Every time he tried to move Frodo blocked him, barking fiercely but not touching him. It really was a case of, 'Call your dog off, mister, PLEASE.' It's noticeable now that any bikers take another path when they see us – word gets around.
So, if you see a Dalmatian you don't know, give him time and space to overcome his natural reticence or, in the case of Frodo, come to our house where he will welcome you as one of the family!

The Adventures of Frodo the Faller (2)

Deciding that the dog show world was not for our beautiful naughty boy was a blessing in disguise. Frodo had not started his Falling career at that point so we, or rather I (for my husband is patient with my wild dreams and ambitions but does not commit himself as readily and foolishly as I) was regretting his foreshortened profession as a Top Stud Dog, since to achieve any success or even desirability – in the eyes of breeder/owners, that is; I don't think the brood bitches care one way or the other what their mates look like – he would have to be paraded, sorry, exhibited, at many a Championship Show in order to gain his 'tickets'.

Now tickets to people mean travel but to dogs they mean kudos for the breeder/owner and the chance to get their leg over in the case of male dogs. The bitches stand to be 'served' and it doesn't seem like a very enjoyable experience for them. Unfortunately, they cannot lie back and think of England and have to suffer the indignity of being 'tied' for anything up to an hour, with twenty minutes being the average. This is the time when unfortunate free-mating dogs in public can find themselves doused with cold water as well-meaning, shocked humans who find the whole process disgusting and even more so when displayed by dogs and cats, attempt to separate them. The torrent of water merely panics the dog and bitch who cannot escape from each other even though, soaking wet and cold, that is probably their dearest wish. It's Nature's way of ensuring ejaculation and impregnation. On the one occasion we had a dog and bitch mating I had hoped that observing the 'tie' might have a salutary effect on our eldest daughter, then nine years old. I have no idea if it did – she is now a happily married mother of three.

In my imagination Frodo had achieved and excelled in all the necessary stages of his calling and had become Sovereign Top Dalmatian, indeed, Supreme Super Stud of the Natural World (though there's much that's rather unnatural in the Canine Canon) I had not considered how I was going to manage his active life as a Dog in Demand. Where were the matings to be performed? Should the trysts take place in the kitchen or maybe the conservatory? How was the bitch to be accommodated during her stay? Perhaps the spare bedroom would suffice. Even more, I had not thought about the times – and there must be some – when his services were not required. Did we really want our boy humping everything in sight, including our other dogs, our cats, the furniture, my mother-in-law's legs?

No, Frodo the Stud Dog was really a non-starter, particularly when he began Falling, of which more anon.

April 2024 A to Z Challenge

 

Sadie, with her handler, Lance Corporal Karen Yardley and her Dickin Medal, February 2007

Image source

This year my blog posts for the April 2024 A to Z Challenge will be about the recipients of the Dickin Medal, which you can read about here. They are in alphabetical, not chronological order, within the different letters. 

S

Sadie  1996-2009

(Sources give her dates as 1996-2019, which would make her 23 at her death. That is very unlikely, for a large breed, though just about possible for a very small dog.)

Sadie was a black Labrador who was trained to be an Arms and Explosives dog by the RAVC (Royal Army Veterinary Corps) in Leicestershire. She served in Bosnia and Iraq before being deployed to Afghanistan in 2005, where the Taliban were infamous for their use of Improvised Explosive Devices. Sadie, and dogs like her, were invaluable. They could search eight vehicles at a checkpoint in the time a human would take to check one.

Detection dogs are trained to sit at the location of explosives, which is why you should be concerned if a sniffer dog sits down near you at an airport, (although it could be a drug detection dog!)

One devastating tactic by the Taliban was to set off a second device after a primary detonation. As people, both civilian and military, approached the scene of an explosion, they would be targeted by the second IED, causing further injuries and fatalities.

In November, 2005, an explosion occurred near UN Headquarters in Kabul, in which one soldier was killed and several more were injured.

  When Sadie and her handler, Lance Corporal Karen Yardley, arrived at the scene to begin searching, Sadie was immediately alert, staring at a wall. Bomb disposal personnel arrived and disarmed an IED, which had been hidden under sandbags behind the two foot thick wall.

The citation for her DM in February, 2007, read, ‘For outstanding gallantry and devotion to duty. On 14 November 2005 Sadie gave a positive indication near a concrete blast wall. At the site of Sadie’s indication was a bomb designed to inflict maximum injury. Sadie’s actions undoubtedly saved the lives of many civilians and soldiers.’

Sadie retired shortly after her award. The working span for a Military Working Dog is between nine and eleven years.

 

Salty and Roselle

Roselle, left, and Salty, right, with their owners

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Salty and Roselle were Guide dogs who were in the World Trade Center with their owners on 11^th September, 2001. They led their people down many, many flights of stairs to escape the terminally damaged buildings.

Salty   1996-2008

Salty was a yellow Labrador who lived with his owner, Omar Rivera, from 1999. On 11^th September, 2001, they were on the 71st floor of Tower 1 of the WTC, when the (first?) ‘plane flew into the building, several floors above. Salty guided his master to the crowded stairwell, working calmly through the chaotic scenes, round debris and people. It took an hour and fifteen minutes for them to reach the ground floor and escape the doomed building, moments before it collapsed.

Roselle  1998-2011

Roselle was also a yellow Labrador and met her owner, Michael Hingson, in 1999. She was his fifth guide dog. She was sleeping under a desk when the ‘plane hit. Roselle led her master to stairwell B, working quietly and efficiently, despite the panic around her, guiding him and thirty other people out of the tower. About halfway down, they met firefighters coming up. Roselle greeted them, then continued her descent. After an hour, they reached the bottom and she led him to the shelter of a subway station.

Michael Hingson wrote, ‘She saved my life. While everyone ran in panic, Roselle remained totally focused on her job. While debris fell around us, and even hit us, Roselle stayed calm.’

When they eventually reached home, Roselle went in and started playing with her master’s retired guide dog, as though it had been just another day at the office.

Salty and Roselle were awarded a joint Dickin Medal in March 2002, ‘For remaining loyally at the side of their blind owners, courageously leading them down more than 70 floors of the World Trade Center and to a place of safety following the terrorist attack on New York on 11 September 2001.’

Salty and Roselle were also honoured by the British ‘Guide Dogs for the Blind Association’ and received a ‘Partners in Courage’ award from the American ‘Guiding Eyes for the Blind.’

 

Sam  ?-2000

Sam 
Image source

Sam was seconded from the RAVC Dog Unit to serve with the Royal Canadian Regiment on peacekeeping duties in Bosnia and Herzegovina. In 2008, there was a great deal of unrest in the region, Serbians and Croats vying for supremacy and using ethnic cleansing to attain their ends.

Sam and his handler, Sergeant Iain Carnegie, were working with a NATO force to protect civilians in the town of Drvar. While patrolling one day, they were fired at by a single gunman. Sam chased him to a bar and held him down, waiting for Sgt Carnegie to reach him and make an arrest

A few days later, many Serbian refugees had sought shelter from angry Croats. The compound they were in was being attacked with crowbars and stones by around fifty Croats. Sam and the men in his squad battled their way in and held off the assailants until additional troops arrived to restore order. Iain Carnegie later said, ’I could never have attempted to carry out my duties without him. Sam displayed outstanding courage in the face of the rioters, never did he shy away.’

Sam retired from military duty shortly after this, aged ten.

The Dickin Medal was awarded posthumously in January, 2003, ‘For outstanding gallantry in April 1998 while assigned to the Royal Canadian Regiment in Drvar during the conflict in Bosnia-Herzegovina. On two documented occasions Sam displayed great courage and devotion to duty, on 18 April Sam successfully brought down an armed man threatening the lives of civilians and Service personnel. On 24 April, while guarding a compound harbouring Serbian refugees, Sam’s determined approach held off rioters until reinforcement arrived. This dog’s true valour saved the lives of many servicemen and civilians during this time of human conflict.’

 

Sasha  2004-2008

Sasha, a yellow Labrador, was killed with her handler, Lance Corporal Kenneth Rowe, in a Taliban ambush.

Sasha was an RVAC Arms and Explosives dog attached to the 2^nd Battalion of the Parachute Regiment in Kandahar. She and L/Cpl Rowe had only been paired since May 2008, but had proved themselves an efficient team. She made fifteen confirmed finds of explosives and weapons caches.

  On July 24^th, 2008, when L/Cpl Rowe and Sasha were on patrol, a sniper shot Sasha. She returned immediately to her handler, which unfortunately allowed the Taliban to pinpoint Kenneth Rowe’s position. They were both killed by a hail of rocket-propelled grenades. L/Cpl Rowe was twenty-four and Sasha was four. Six other men were injured in the attack, one of them seriously.

In 2010, Kenneth Rowe’s family received the Elizabeth Cross in his honour. Sasha was awarded the Dickin Medal in April, 2014. ‘Sasha’s actions were conducted in perilous conditions over a sustained period. Without doubt she saved many soldiers and civilians from death or injury. Her calm presence and wagging tail also comforted and reassured soldiers risking their lives on the front line.’

Though Sasha was a well-trained and responsive dog, she also had a mischievous side to her, and enjoyed chasing the feral cats, which amused and entertained the troops.

 

Scotch Lass

                                                    Scotch Lass
                                                                Image source

Scotch Lass was bred by ‘Collins and Son’ in Musselburgh, East Lothian. She was taken into the Netherlands by a British agent and when she was released with her message, he saw her fly straight into telegraph wires. Nevertheless, she continued her flight across the North Sea, and in June 1945 was awarded the DM for bravery, ‘For bringing 38 microphotographs across the North Sea in good time although injured, while serving with the RAF in Holland in September 1944.’

 

Sheila

                                            Sheila with Mr Dagg

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A Flying Fortress from the US Eighth Air Force, was flying, fully laden with bombs, when it crashed into the Cheviot Hills, in blizzard conditions. Two shepherds, and Sheila, the Collie sheep dog belonging to one of them, started to search for the crew of the stricken aircraft. Visibility was so poor that they had to rely on Sheila’s nose to track them. She found the four survivors sheltering in a crevice and took the shepherds to them. The group then made their way down the hillside, reaching safety just as the bombs on the downed aircraft exploded.

Sheila was awarded the DM in July, 1945, for her work, the first medal to be given to a ‘civilian’ dog, ‘For assisting in the rescue of four American Airmen lost on the Cheviots in a blizzard after an air crash in December, 1944.’

 

Simon

Simon on board HMS Amethyst

Image source

Simon was a stray black and white tom cat in the Hong Kong docks in May 1948 when he was picked up by 17-year-old Ordinary Seaman George Hickinbottom and smuggled aboard the frigate HMS Amethyst to deal with the rats.

A year later, in April 1949, when the Chinese Civil War was raging, Amethyst was ordered to sail up the Yangtze River to take over guard duty from HMS Consort at the British Embassy in Nanking. The British had not taken sides in the Communist/Nationalist conflict, so did not expect any trouble, and, in any case, a ceasefire was in operation, due to terminate on 21^st April at midnight. However, Communist forces resumed firing on the morning of 20^th April.

Amethyst was caught in the crossfire, sustaining more than 50 hits, which killed the Captain and eighteen crew and injured 27 more. Amethyst found shelter in an inlet and began to negotiate with the Communists for release.

Simon was probably in the Captain’s cabin and was hit by shrapnel in his back and legs and his face was burnt. In the manner of sick cats, who tend to hide away, Simon was not seen for several days until he appeared on deck, in very bad condition. He was dehydrated and thin and clearly in pain from his injuries. 

The Medical Officer, Michael Fearnley tended to him, but thought that his chances of survival were slim. He suggested that Simon should remain in the sick bay with the young crew members, to raise their morale. After all, Simon had been through the same experiences as them and so was considered one of them.

Almost three months elapsed, during which time rations were halved to conserve them.  Large rats were breeding freely and stealing and contaminating the food supplies. They were fierce, aggressive creatures, even attacking sailors, but Simon proved himself more than a match for them.

One exceptionally vicious rodent, nicknamed Mao Tse-Tung, repeatedly broached the food supplies. When Simon killed it, the ship’s crew were so enthralled that they applauded Simon and promoted him to ‘Able Seaman Simon’. He was awarded the Amethyst campaign ribbon: ‘Able Seaman Simon, for distinguished and meritorious service on HMS Amethyst, you are hereby awarded the Distinguished Amethyst Campaign Medal.

Be it known that on April 25, 1949, though recovering from wounds, when HMS Amethyst was standing by off Rose Bay you did single-handedly and unarmed stalk down and destroy ‘Mao Tse-Tung’, a rat guilty of raiding food supplies which were critically short.

Be it further known that from April 22 to August 4, you did rid HMS Amethyst of pestilence and vermin, with unrelenting faithfulness.’

Peggy the dog also received the Distinguished Amethyst Campaign Medal. 

Negotiations were not proceeding favourably and eventually it was decided that Amethyst should make a run for it.  On 30^th July, HMS Amethyst broke free, ending 101 days of custody.

The PDSA contacted HMS Amethyst to inquire of Simon’s exploits. The reply came, ‘For many days Simon felt very sorry for himself, nor could he be located. His whiskers, even now, show signs of the explosion.

 Rats, which began to breed rapidly in the damaged portions of the ship, presented a real menace to the health of the ship’s company, but Simon nobly rose to the occasion and after two months the rats were much diminished.

Throughout the incident Simon’s behaviour was of the highest order. One would not have expected a small cat to survive the blast from an explosion capable of making a hole over a foot in diameter in a steel plate. Yet after a few days Simon was as friendly as ever. His presence on the ship, together with Peggy, the dog, was a decided factor in maintaining the high level of morale of the ship’s company.’

Simon remains, to date, the only cat, and the only Royal Navy animal, to have been awarded the Dickin Medal. While in quarantine, Simon fell ill. He died two weeks before his presentation in August, 1949, his war wounds undoubtedly responsible for weakening his resistance to infection. He had lived more than six lives in his two short years of life. In addition to the DM, Simon was also awarded the Blue Cross Medal and the Naval General Service Medal with Yangtze 1949 clasp.

The entire crew of HMS Amethyst attended his burial at the PDSA Animal Cemetery in Ilford, alongside hundreds of civilians who had followed his story.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons