Jaquenetta German Shepherd Dogs
It's a Dogs Life !
Greetings to you all. Hope everyone enjoyed their Christmas. We did, lots of leftover turkey, ham, tongue, vegetables, sausagemeat stuffing, sausage and bacon rolls, mm….mmm. Why do these humans have to cook everything though? It tastes so much nicer raw. I suspect it’s because Squawk is a qualified Chef and she would be superfluous otherwise. At Christmas we get news of my ‘dear’ brother in the Police Force; how many prisoners he has caught and so on. One year he retrieved a prisoner that had been hiding deep in the undergrowth. To the amazement of the handler the prisoner shook him by the hand and said “that dog’s sound”. Another time he leapt out of the Police van when his handler was being attacked by a prisoner and joined in. The prisoner then tried to fight with the dog, not a good idea. I could never get the better of him when we were puppies, so he must be tough. But he also has a tender side to him, like me. After disarming a man with a gun in a display for handicapped children, he then met the children and rolled over on his back to let them tickle his tummy. Much to the amazement of his handler’s colleagues, who hadn’t seen this side of him before. This year was not very eventful for him, due to the Police investing in a helicopter the evening crime rate has fallen, and the dogs and handlers are not needed as much.
We also received a letter from the German import’s son, who was returned to us at ten months and re-homed. He was offered to the Police, but the local handler who assessed him decided because he had not been taught to chase and retrieve a ball or stick, he would not be suitable for them, even though his sire is qualified SchH3 and ‘V’ rated in Germany. The next bit is an extract from his new owner’s letter. “He is on the whole a very well behaved, calm and obedient dog and most of the time we can be very proud of his behaviour. However, there are the odd exceptions! Like recently when I took him across the fields towards the old hospital grounds, where the police and prison service regularly train their German Shepherds. Unfortunately, I was not quick enough to spot the dog trainer and handler sending a German Shepherd after the man with the padded arm running through the grounds. However, Apollo spotted him and thought it looked far more like fun than playing with a ball. All obedience went out the window or else he was struck deaf as he took off in hot pursuit followed by me screaming no! come back! As they disappeared out of sight amid a lot of barking. The trainer and dog handler were very good about it and said that in real life these distractions were bound to happen. They asked me his name and when called he reappeared looking extremely pleased with himself and sat nicely when told to do so. However the man with the padded arm was nowhere to be seen and what worried me was what ever went through his head, when instead of one he was suddenly being chased by two German Shepherds and having only one padded arm which bit of his anatomy did he offer the second one!”
Another letter came from a bitch that was re-homed to a couple who live on a farm. She had made friends with a pig, and one morning they came into the house soaking wet; they had been swimming in the river together! Squawk says it’s nice to get all this feedback from owners showing what good-natured, intelligent dogs we are. And then Growler looked at me and saying “present company excepted”. I know that dig was because I’m more her dog than his, so I gave him one of my haughty looks in return. Then we had to spend several minutes out-staring each other until I gave in and admitted he was the more dominant one.
Before Christmas the humans took the young show bitch and the class one bitch to Crewe and North Staffs show. Myself and the German import get looked after by Squawk’s mother who stays here while they are away. She cannot understand the attraction of dog showing; thinks it’s a waste of time spending a fortune on entry fees, transport and fuel, to come home empty handed. The humans collect old books, mother thinks it would make more sense if they attended book fairs or car boot sales, selling their books. At least then they would see some return for getting up at the crack of dawn and travelling miles. They returned from Crewe and North Staffs show with a bronze medal. Mother was delighted, she assumed the show bitch had come third in her class, like at the Olympics. My humans did not enlighten her to the fact that every dog who was exhibited received one, until the next day. ( Even the class one bitch would have got one if they could have found a handler for her and she has never been in a show ring before ). Squawk says thank you to Crewe and North Staffs for enabling her to bring home something tangible to show to her mother. The show bitch told me about the show, she admitted she was nearer the back than the front of the line up as usual.
“Andrew Connolly touched my nose, he’s a star. I’m not licking it ever again,” she sighed.
“You mean Billy Connolly,” I corrected. I know he’s a star ‘cos I’ve seen him on the picture box.
“No I don’t, he’s long haired like you, not showable!” she snarled. “Andrew’s always in the first three; that’s why he’s a star.”
“Don’t be silly, it’s not the people being judged at a dog show.” I snapped.
“You just don’t understand the system,” she whined. “You’ve never been to a dog show.”
“Bah! You just haven’t got what it takes,” I growled. “If you were any good, mother could take you around the ring in her slippers with her fag in her hand and you’d still win.”
“Huh! What do you know? You aren’t good enough to be entered in a show, at least I am with my background,” she sneered. “I’m descended from Siegers and Siegerines and some of the finest bloodlines in Germany.”
“So am I, Miss Uppity. My mother was inbred on Marko von Cellerland, Quanto von der Wienerau, Orsof v Busecker Schloss and Ch Joll v Bemholt. My father had a Crufts Supreme Champion, several of the older British Champions and International Champions in his pedigree,” I snarled.
“Well the lines weren’t very compatible then, look at the result! A huge hairy monster that would do better at a donkey derby than a dog show,” she retorted as she raced off round the garden.
I gave chase, shouting after her, “when I catch up with you I’m going to give your nose such a licking.”
“Not my nose,” she shrieked.
She made such a commotion when I caught up with her and wrestled her to the ground, that the Witch stuck her nose through the hedge at the bottom of the garden; the Poison Dwarf rushed across to peek over the fence; the old dear stuck her head out of her doorway; and the humans came rushing out of the house, screaming and shouting at me. Squawk called out to reassure the neighbours that murder was not being committed, “It’s alright they’re only playing.” I was in disgrace and sent indoors for frightening the little bitch, while they made a fuss of her. It’s a dog’s life!
P.S. What is a bore?
A bore is someone who talks about his dogs and his alone, when you want him to listen while you talk about your own.
Copyright J C Hiscox
Previously published in the GSD National Magazine Mar 1997
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