Jaquenetta German Shepherd Dogs
It's a Dogs Life !
Greetings to you all. Squawk had the radio on this morning. Most of it is boring waffle and goes over my head. But this one particular programme made me prick up my ears. It was about humans making out their wills in favour of their pets; so that they would be well-cared for after their death, booking them into luxury pet hotels for the rest of their days. One woman left her German Shepherd Dog Gunther about sixty million pounds. He lives on a huge country estate with his own servants to look after him. Now I’m trying to figure out a way to get one of the bitches shacked up with him; then we could help him spend all that money.
Because the humans have not got the figures to sustain even short periods of gaiting, they decided to purchase a springer and a bicycle for the show bitch to gait alongside. It looked easy on the leaflet; Squawk tried a practice run in the garden with a nylon harness on the showbitch. Squawk mounted the bicycle and began to move down the path. The showbitch faced in the opposite direction, jumping up at the house door wanting to come inside with us, pulling Squawk backwards. Squawk finally got her going in the same direction. They progressed together down the path until it came to turning the corner. The showbitch not thinking much of this game, shimmied herself out of the harness, ran back to the door, pushed against it and let us all out to play. Growler purchased a leather harness and Squawk and the showbitch finally got it together. But the showbitch thinks the idea is to out-gait the front wheel of the bicycle.
Growler visited Belgium for his work recently. While over there one of the Belgian workers took him to his friends GSD kennels v Bohawald. He exhibits at the Sieger Show and trains his dogs and other peoples’ for schutzhund. He asked Growler how much he had paid for our German import. Growler aware that they had paid well over the odds for her told him half the price. The Belgian thought it was a high price and told him a SchH1 trained bitch from him was six hundred pounds. ( The price of some puppies over here ). He had sold dogs all over the world but none to Britain.
I really enjoy the two day show, it means the scraggy showbitch goes away for a whole weekend, and I am left in peace to be spoilt by Squawk’s mother. She came back with a bucketful of excuses why she didn’t do very well. The humans had arranged to let a chap who was in GSDs yonks ago, when Hendrawen’s Nibelung of Charavigne was just a boy, and he handled Brittas stock and others of that era. He bought a puppy from the class one bitch’s last litter and wants to show him. So Squawk thought what better place to get back into handling than the two day show. ( The humans have never taken this showing business seriously ). The showbitch was not amused as he ambled around the ring with her. Nor were the humans when they found out afterwards he had had an operation on his knee. He could do a slow jog but could not run at a fast pace. But it must have helped him and his puppy; they have several firsts in puppy and junior, a couple best puppy and a BOB to their credit.
The showbitch and the class one bitch attended the Quality Assessment Rally. They left here at six thirty a.m. before mother was even up. They arrived at the venue about nine thirty and found a handler for the individual assessment. ( They had to find another one for the parade at the end ). The showbitch was a few days into her season. They took her out of the van at two o’clock ready for the adult bitch assessments, but kept her away from the other adult dogs at the bottom end of the field. Squawk went to see the handler they had booked, who had forgotten who had asked him. She pointed out where the bitch was, he said he had another to take in the ring, then he would fetch theirs. They waited and waited. This handler being one of the mega ones, they did not know if he forgot them on purpose because he did not know them or their dogs and hoped they’d ask someone else, or whether it was genuine forgetfulness. Anyway Squawk decided to have one more go at reminding him, as the showbitch has a very fast free-moving gait when handled by someone who can keep up with her. And they knew this handler could bring out her best and move with her. Finally he agreed to have a look at her, take around the practice ring, and if he did not want to handle her he would find someone else for them. He saw her, liked her very much, ran her round a couple of times and agreed to take her in, and even held up the dog parade to do so. After her individual he would handle again no problem. The two bitches were finally assessed at about four o’clock. The humans arrived home at nine p.m. about sixty pounds poorer ( petrol, entry fees, handler’s fees ).
The humans do not attend many shows now. There was a really nice and very experienced handler who used to help the novice exhibitors, and handle their dogs for them. But he injured himself and is now unable to handle. The novices find it difficult to get a good handler at shows, that some of them have become disheartened and disillusioned and dropped out of showing. Which is a shame, because the top exhibitors need the novices to make up the numbers!
Of course the showbitch was full of the Q.A.R.
“I was handled by my hero,” she sighed.
“Were you the only one that turned up?” I scoffed.
“He said I was a nice type of bitch, and I think he’s a nice type of handler. Leggy, well-constructed, good pigment, a lovely free-mover and he thought the same about me,” she preened.
“Well I suppose you have filled out a bit, but you’re still too scraggy for my liking,” I growled.
“And then for the parade round at the end, I had another nice type of handler. Shorter in length of leg, carrying a little extra weight, but he had a super sound temperament; as I found out after I played him up a bit. The class one bitch was graded lower than me of course, but we ended up next to each other in the ring. I spent the whole time turning round trying to get at her and Squawk. Until in exasperation they left the ring. I behaved myself then and walked around properly. I don’t want that class one bitch muscling in on my territory. I’m the showbitch! I do the showing off!” she stated.
The humans took the showbitch to Wincanton Racecourse for her breed survey. Last time Squawk was there she had two firsts, one at 12 to 1 and the other at 4 to 1; better results than she’s had there with dogs. In the middle of her survey, a load of pigeons were let out of a nearby lorry. Someone suggested this was another of Percy’s temperament tests’ She gained a Class One*.
“That sounds impressive a class one star. Does that mean you’re better than a class one?” I questioned.
“No. It means I’m a little on the tall side,” she answered.
“I told you before you were built like a colt, all legs,” I sneered.
“It’s better than being built like a donkey. You’d be class one ********* the size of you,” she retorted.
“Looks like you’re destined to be scraggy forever, seeing as you can’t get in whelp. Probably infertile.”
“I’ve only had one go,” she whined. “And it might not be me at fault. We bitches have to go through vaginal swabs and blood tests to see when and if we’re ovulating. If we ‘miss’ to a proven stud then there must be something wrong with us. Dogs can become temporarily infertile for all sorts of reasons, but they don’t have to be tested before every mating to make sure they’re functioning properly. It’s the same with the humans; the woman has all the tests, even the one to see if the male is fertile. They have to mate the night before the test, and it’s the female that gets swabbed. But when the puppies are born it’s all credit to the stud dog for such fine progeny.”
I couldn’t stand anymore of this feminist ranting, so I began growling and wrestled her to the floor, I had just got my jaws round her neck for a little squeeze to frighten her, when Growler hauled me off and shook me. “Be gentle with her, she’s been mated and she may be in whelp,” he snarled.
Oh no! Not little carbon copies of her all over the place. It’s a dog’s life.
Copyright J C Hiscox
Previously published in the GSD National Magazine Dec 1998
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