WILLOWDALE DOGS IN NEW YORK
There are parts of Connecticut in which winter is likely to be a
rather moist and miserable season, but Boytown was situated in the
hills where it was colder and dryer. It lay in the snow belt, as Mr.
Whipple used to say. Consequently, winter was, for these boys, a
season which offered as many opportunities for outdoor sport as
summer--coasting, skating, and all the rest of it.
A favorite pastime with Ernest and Jack Whipple was what they called
snowshoeing. They wore no snowshoes or skiis, to be sure, but they
pretended they did, and they enjoyed trudging off over the
snow-covered fields and through the woods with their dogs, with their
eyes ever on the alert for the tracks of birds and wild animals. It
was Sam Bumpus who taught them how to distinguish these tracks, and
whenever they found an unfamiliar one they took the news to him and
learned what animal had made it. He showed them where a flock of quail
had spent the night in a close circle on the lee of a stone wall or a
corn shock and he told them about the quail's interesting life
history. He showed them how some birds hop and some, like the crow and
the blackbird and the starling, walk like a man or a chicken. He
taught them to know the tracks of the squirrel, the rabbit, and the
white-footed mouse, and even the fox and the raccoon, and one day he
showed them where an owl's wings had brushed the snow when he swooped
down to catch a mouse whose lacy little trail ended abruptly. Jack
thought that was a sad little story for the snow to tell.
Often they wanted no other object than merely to be out in the open,
with the constant possibility of finding rare tracks, but sometimes
they walked with a more definite purpose--to take Romulus up to Sam's
for a little training to refresh his memory, or, when a longer trip
was possible, to pay a visit to Tom Poultice and the Hartshorns. They
were always welcome there.
It was on one of these visits in January that Mr. Hartshorn made good
his promise to tell them something about the breeds of gun dogs other
than setters and spaniels.
"I thought you must have forgotten about that," said he. "What
memories you youngsters have--for some things. Well, suppose we see
how much we know about the pointer. He is the dog, you know, that
contests with the English setter the title of most popular and
efficient gun dog. I won't attempt to settle the matter. Each breed
has its loyal advocates, and at the field trials sometimes a pointer
wins and sometimes a setter.
"The pointer is a wonderfully symmetrical, lithe, athletic dog, with
remarkable nose, bird sense, and action. Like the setter he has been
trained to point and retrieve. He strains back to hound origin,
probably, but was developed as a distinct breed in Europe long ago,
doubtless with the help of setter and foxhound crosses. Some pointers
are wonderfully stanch. I knew of one who held the same point without
moving for an hour and a quarter, while an artist painted his
portrait, and I once heard of one who caught a scent while halfway
over a fence, and hung there by his fore paws till the birds were
flushed.
"Then there are several varieties of retrievers that are also bird
dogs. In this country we have the retrievers proper, the Labrador dog,
and the Chesapeake Bay dog, though none of them are very common. They
are all probably of spaniel origin.
"The Labrador dog is supposed to have come from Labrador, but we don't
know much about his history before 1850, when he was introduced into
England and was trained and used as a sporting dog. The wavy-coated
retriever, called also the flat-coated retriever, became popular among
British sportsmen and fanciers about 1870. He has a wavy coat,
longer than that of the Labrador dog. The curly-coated retriever, less
common in England than the wavy, has seldom been shown here. He is
characterized by short, crisp curls all over his body, with the
exception of the head, strongly suggesting the presence of poodle or
Irish water spaniel blood in his make-up. The Chesapeake Bay dog
originated in Maryland and possesses many of the traits of the
retrievers. He probably sprang from Labrador ancestors, crossed with
tan-colored hounds.
"Finally we come to a very interesting dog, one that you would love if
you knew him--the wire-haired pointing griffon. He is a new dog with
us, but an old one in France, Holland, Belgium, and Germany. He is a
splendid bird dog, useful for all kinds of game, and a natural pointer
and retriever. He is medium-sized, symmetrical, and well built, with a
wiry coat, and has a face something like an otter hound or an
Airedale. And there you have all the prominent gun dogs."
"What is an otter hound?" asked Ernest.
Mr. Hartshorn laughed. "You are insatiable," said he. "Some day I'll
tell you about the otter hound and all the other members of the hound
family, but not to-day. You've had enough."
It was partly the prospect of gaining information of this sort that
made the trips to Willowdale so attractive to the boys, partly a
genuine liking for Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn, and partly the fun of
talking with Tom Poultice and watching the Airedales and bull
terriers. But more than all I think it was the homelike, hospitable
character and doggy atmosphere of the big house. It was a place where
everybody loved dogs and took as much interest in them as though they
were people, and where any dog lover was welcome. Consequently, their
visits there were more frequent than Mrs. Whipple thought was quite
proper.
"You'll wear out your welcome," she warned. But somehow they didn't
seem to.
It was during these winter days that they heard a good deal of talk
about dog shows, both from Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn and from Tom
Poultice. Tom, indeed, was as much interested in the show dogs as if
they had been his own and he was never tired of talking of their
achievements on the bench and of their possible future triumphs. Mr.
Hartshorn owned a string of winners of both his breeds that were
famous throughout the country and that included several great
champions. Tom, who nearly always took the dogs to the shows and
stayed with them, knew every little point about them as well as the
points of their rivals.
"Of course, it's a bloomin' gamble," he would say. "So much depends on
whether your dog or the other one is in the best condition. That's why
I've been doing so much fussing over them this winter. You can't be
too careful. An upset stomach may mean a staring coat and may spoil a
dog's chances. And then again you may run up against a new judge with
hideas of 'is own, and then all your reckoning goes to smash. It's a
great game, boys."
And so they were wont to go out to the kennels and watch Tom grooming
the dogs and listen to his wise talk about points and judging. These
were busy days for him, for some of the biggest shows take place in
the winter and the early spring, and he had to keep the dogs in
constant condition.
It was from Tom that they learned the names of famous dogs of various
breeds, of instances when great champions had been beaten by unknown
newcomers, and of the rising and setting stars of dogdom, but it was
from Mr. Hartshorn that they gained a clear idea of what a dog show
was like. He described to them the crowded halls, the long rows of
dogs of many breeds chained in little stalls on benches, the
arrangement of novice and puppy and limit and open classes for the
different breeds, and all the rest of it.
"The dogs are taken to the show ring in classes," said he, "and the
judge for that breed sizes them up, feels of them, examines eyes,
teeth, and hair, compares posture and spirit and all the other things
that count, figures it all up according to a scale of points, and then
hands out ribbons to the winners--a blue ribbon for first prize, a red
one for second, and a yellow one for third. Cash prizes go with the
ribbons usually. There are also special trophies for special winnings,
such as the best American-bred dog of the breed, or the best brace,
and there is the contest between the winners of the different classes
in each breed. Finally, in some of the big shows, there is a special
trophy for the best dog of any breed in the show. This contest is
usually held at the end of the show, or perhaps before the packs of
hounds and beagles are judged, and it is always an exciting time.
Every exhibitor hopes to win one of the specials, but most of the dogs
are trying for their championship titles."
"How do they win a championship?" asked Ernest.
"A dog becomes a champion," answered Mr. Hartshorn, "when he has won
fifteen points in authorized shows. These points are granted according
to the size of the show. At the biggest shows the winner of a first
prize gets three points; at the smaller shows, where he has less
competition, he gets two points or one point. An official record is
kept of them all."
"The New York show is the biggest of all, isn't it?" asked Ernest.
"Yes," said Mr. Hartshorn. "It is usually held in Madison Square
Garden in February--four days including Washington's Birthday. It's
too long a time for the dogs to be benched, but there are so many of
them that it is impossible to get through the judging in less time.
Sixteen or eighteen hundred dogs are shown there, worth I don't know
how many thousands of dollars, and the crowds of spectators are big in
proportion. You get an idea at one of those shows how many people are
interested in dogs. The New York show is run by the Westminster Kennel
Club, and because it's the biggest of all its trophies are greatly
coveted. The dog that is adjudged the best of all breeds at the New
York show becomes the champion of champions of the United States."
"Oh, my!" sighed Jack, "I wish I could see a dog show like that."
"You will, some day," said Mr. Hartshorn. "And who knows but that you
may have a dog benched there and carry away some blue ribbons and a
silver cup."
"Anyway," said Ernest, "you'll tell us all about this next one, and
what your dogs win, won't you, Mr. Hartshorn?"
"You may depend upon that," said he.
When the other boys learned what was afoot they all became mightily
interested in the bench-show game and in the prospects of the
Willowdale entries at New York. One or two of them had subscribed to
papers devoted to the dog fancy and these were handed about until the
boys had familiarized themselves with the names of some of the old
champions and the newer dogs of whom great things were expected.
Heated discussions ensued, but all were agreed in wishing luck to the
Willowdale dogs.
They were a bit disappointed when they learned that Mr. Hartshorn had
decided to send down only four of the bull terriers and five
Airedales, but Tom Poultice explained the reason for this.
"It costs five dollars for each entry of each dog, and wot's the use
of entering dogs that don't stand a chance? Ch. Earl of Norfolk is
getting old and 'e's all out of coat, and it wouldn't be fair to 'im
to show 'im that way. We've picked the ones we're going to win with."
When Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn and Tom Poultice started out in the big
car for New York, with two of Mrs. Hartshorn's Poms on the back seat
with her, they were followed by the envious longings of most of the
boys of Boytown. But the boys did not have to wait for their return to
learn about the results of the judging. They bought New York papers
which reported the show fully, and they devoured every word of the
reports. Many of the familiar names appeared among the winners, and
the Willowdale dogs captured their full share of the honors. Even Mrs.
Hartshorn's Tip won two red ribbons, while that splendid bull terrier,
Willowdale's White Hope, was adjudged the best American-bred dog of
his breed exhibited by his breeder, and gathered up enough extra
points to secure his championship title. But the climax in their
rejoicing was reached when they read that the new Airedale, Bingo's
Queen Molly, had gone right through her classes to reserve winners in
an entry of over one hundred of the best Airedales in the United
States.
It was, in short, a great four days for Willowdale. The Hartshorns
returned on Sunday, having arranged for the shipment of the dogs on
Saturday, and they graciously invited the whole gang up on the
following Saturday to admire the conquering heroes and their shining
trophies and to learn all about what happened from the lips of Mr. and
Mrs. Hartshorn and Tom Poultice, who, by the way, wore a grin that
appeared to have become permanent.
"Didn't I tell you that Molly was the genooine harticle?" was his
frequently repeated comment.
It was unthinkable that, after all this, the boys should speedily lose
interest. On the contrary, dog shows remained the foremost topic of
conversation for a month, until one day Herbie Pierson had an
inspiration.
"Say, fellers," he exploded one morning, bursting in upon a group of
his friends in front of the schoolhouse, "let's get up a dog show of
our own."
Just then the bell rang, which was rather unfortunate for all
concerned. The teachers found the boys strangely inattentive that day
and preoccupied, and more than one of them had to be reprimanded for
whispering or for passing notes.
As soon as they obtained their freedom they plunged at once into a
discussion of Herbie's fascinating plan, and in an incredibly short
time they had arranged the essential details. The Easter recess was
selected as the most fitting time for the Boytown Dog Show and a
committee was appointed, consisting of Herbie Pierson, Harry Barton,
and Ernest Whipple, to select a suitable place and make the necessary
arrangements.
After considerable discussion it was decided that the Morton barn
would make an ideal show hall, provided they could gain Mr. Morton's
consent. It was one of the largest barns in the town proper and it was
for the most part unoccupied, Mr. Morton having disposed of his horses
when he bought his car.
Mr. Morton was the president of the First National Bank, and a
person of great dignity and importance, of whom the boys stood
somewhat in awe. But they had set their hearts on getting his barn,
and so they screwed up their courage and called on him at his home one
afternoon after banking hours.
He turned out to be not such a formidable personage after all. In
fact, he was amused by the diffidence of the delegation that called on
him, and even more amused when Harry Barton, who had been chosen
spokesman, outlined their plan and requested the use of his barn.
"I'll let you hold your show in my barn on two conditions," said he,
after asking several questions. "First, you must promise to clean up
thoroughly after it's all over. Second, will you allow me to enter Li
Hung Chang in competition?"
Li Hung Chang was the blue-gray chow that followed at Mr. Morton's
heels wherever he went, spent his days at the bank, and never had a
word to say to any other dog. To this request the committee granted a
ready and joyful request. And it gave them another idea--to invite the
adult dog owners of Boytown, as well as the boys, to exhibit their
dogs.
A meeting of the Humane Society was called to receive the report of
the committee's success and to arrange further details. It was voted
to charge an entrance fee of fifty cents for each dog shown and
twenty-five cents admission for spectators, the proceeds to be donated
to the local chapter of the Red Cross of which Mrs. Hammond was an
active member.
Since there were hardly two dogs in Boytown of the same breed, it did
not seem possible to arrange for classes as in the big shows, so it
was decided to make it a free-for-all contest, with first, second, and
third prizes. Another committee was appointed to obtain these prizes
from Boytown merchants and to secure the services of Mr. Hartshorn as
judge.
Mr. Hartshorn, when approached on the matter, quite readily gave his
consent, and the boys did not have great difficulty in obtaining the
prizes when they explained that the show would be for the benefit of
the Red Cross. In fact, Mr. Pierson, Herbie's father, who was a
jeweler, was unexpectedly generous. He promised a silver cup for the
first prize--not a large one, but real silver--to be engraved later
with the name of the show, the date, and the name of the winning dog.
The boys were so enthusiastically grateful for this that they
expressed the hope that Herbie's Hamlet might win the trophy himself.
For six months past Ernest Whipple had been delivering evening papers
for Mr. Fellowes, the news dealer, and had become quite a close friend
of his employer's. This was due to the fact that Mr. Fellowes had
once had a brindle bull terrier that had met an untimely death and
whose memory ever remained fresh in his heart. The dog's name had been
Bounce, and Mr. Fellowes found in Ernest a willing listener to his
tales of Bounce's sagacity, courage, and fidelity. He was a genuine
dog lover and enjoyed having Ernest bring Romulus in to see him, for
the boy's dog nearly always accompanied him on his paper route. Mr.
Fellowes had become much interested in the activities of the Humane
Society and had become acquainted with most of the dogs of Boytown,
and when Ernest told him about the plan for a show he expressed a wish
to have some part in it. Ernest was not a member of the prize
committee, but when he reported that Mr. Fellowes wished to donate a
dog collar, it was unanimously voted to accept it as second prize. The
third prize was a twenty-pound box of dog biscuit offered by Mr.
Dewey, the grocer.