Went to the Border Collie of the Year Show today at Weston-super-Mare. I finally overcame my own resistance and actually went. And I was finally reunited with the pack I had howled for when I lost Flash. An event packed with Border Collies! Border Collies in the ring, owners running round the ring with Border Collies. Border Collies collecting rosettes. Border Collies tugging toys with their teeth. Border collies in their crates awaiting their turn to be shown. Border Collies bounding in the back of 4 x 4s. Border Collies on trolleys being groomed. Black and white Border Collies, red and white Border Collies, "blue" and white Border Collies ( "blue" meaning a beautiful slate grey colour), merle border collies, tri-colour Border Collies. Yes! The pack is back!
It didn't matter that I lost touch with Flash's original breeders. I met loads more, all of whom were very kind when they learned what had happened. Best of all, the handlers/owners let me stroke their dogs!
I think the real reason I went down there today was that I wanted to show myself that I had not imagined the fact that I had actually driven down to a village called Clevedon, near Yatton, between Bristol and Weston-super-Mare, Somerset, chosen Flash as a puppy, ran in the woods there with his family of fifteen Border colies, and taken him back to Ealing in West London, where he spent most of his life. That Mum had said "yes" when I had asked to have him even though she initially had an antipathy towards dogs, mainly because as a Muslim she was concerned about domestic hygiene and needing clean conditions in which to pray at home. I soon showed her what I could do. As a puppy I worked so hard with him he was toilet trained very early. She was unused to having an animal in the house and was apprehensive at first. He was naturally clean; she soon noticed this. I worked at the local dog club to socialise him and train him, took him everywhere so he soon got used to noise. And he was trained in basic obedience by about twelve weeks old.
He was a sweet black and white bundle of fur who soon grew into a scamp who soon became a rough tough little boy who soon became a hulking self-willed, authoritative dominant male Border Collie whom it was a real challenge to train and control but I did it. We did shows when he was big enough. And I do not regret a single minute.
Everything, all the effort, overcoming my fears, the travelling, the time it took to get down there, was justified by the event today. The first thing you notice is the smell of Border Collie; to my nostrils it is a beautiful, familiar scent, quite different to any other dog. The second thing you notice is the sheer lushness and luxury of their fur. No wonder I've been seeing it everywhere. The third thing is the keen responsiveness and intelligence of the animal: constantly looking to their owner for the next command and responding immediately they get it. And the fourth - well, is how soppy you can be with them and they never get fed up, in fact they are always coming back for more. The sheer amount of affection the lap up is legendary. The fifth, they don't slobber - very handy. The B.C. is not a messy animal. Sixth, they are quiet. There was only one bout of barking which set off the whole hall, but they were soon quietened with the promise of toys and a game.
I seem to have lost a lot of my regrets and thinking that losing him was ,my fault. I still don't like the thought of him suffering from the spread of the prostate cancer and how it must have hurt him - and no one even knew it was spreading or that he had it. But today made me realise that his whole life had been worthwhile.
There was lots of home-made cake and tea (delicious) and I got to see how a top championship breed dog show is judged. A lot of the dogs I would have picked to win, didn't get awarded the points, some really cute ones among them. And yet other ones, whom I wouldn't have thought would win, did. It's the Kennel Club standard of judging and it is sometimes weird. It can be a bit exclusive: they had their own VIP private buffet lunch area you know. Bit like horse-racing.
Afterwards I went and had a walk on the pier and looked out over the Bristol Channel. Lots of Mr Whippy ice-cream and hot dog stands and amusement arcades. Real British Bank Holiday stuff.
So: no more howling for the pack! It never really went away.
