Dogs -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction
No human, save only the Mistress and myself, might enter the study
unchallenged. Grudgingly, Treve conceded her right and mine to be
there. But a rush at the ankles of any one else discouraged ingress.
I remember my daughter stopped in there one day to speak to me;
on her way for a swim. As the bathing-dressed figure appeared on
the threshold, Treve made a snarling rush for it. Alternately and
vehemently he bit both bare ankles.
“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” complained my daughter, annoyed. “He
_tickles_ so, when he bites!”
No expert trainer has worked more skillfully and tirelessly over
a Derby winner than did Robert Friend over that dog’s shimmering
red-gold coat. For an hour or more every day, he groomed Treve, until
the burnished fur stood out like a Circassian beauty’s coiffure and
glowed like molten gold. The dog stood moveless throughout the long and
tedious process; except when he obeyed the order to turn to one side or
the other or to lift his head or to put up his paws for a brushing of
the silken sleeve-ruffles.
It was Robert, too, who hit on the scheme which gave Treve his last
show-victory; when the collie already had won fourteen of the needful
fifteen points which should make him a Champion of Record.
Perhaps you think it is easy to pilot even the best of dogs through the
gruelling ordeals that go to make up those fifteen points. Well, it is
not.
Many breeders take their dogs on the various show-circuits, keeping
them on the bench for three days at a time; and then, week after week,
shipping them in stuffy crates from town to town, from show to show.
In this way, the championship points sometimes pile up with reasonable
speed;--and sometimes never at all. (Sometimes, too, the luckless dog
is found dead in his crate, on arriving at the show-hall. Oftener he
catches distemper and dies in more painful and leisurely fashion.)
I am too foolishly mush-hearted to inflict such torture on any of
our Sunnybank collies. I never take my dogs to a show that cannot be
reached by comfortable motor ride within two or three hours at most;
nor to any show whence they cannot return home at the end of a single
day. Thus, championship points mount up more slowly at Sunnybank than
at some other kennels. But thus, too, our dogs, for the most part,
stay alive and in splendid health. I sleep the sounder at night, for
knowing my collie chums are not in misery in some distemper-tainted
dogshow-building.
In like manner, it is a fixed rule with us never to ship a Sunnybank
puppy anywhere by express to a purchaser. People must come here in
person and take home the pups they buy from me. Buyers have motored to
Sunnybank for pups from Maine and Ohio and even from California.
These scruples of mine have earned me the good-natured guying of more
sensible collie breeders.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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