Thursday, November 22, 2012

The Day We Went To Grandma's




The day we went to Grandma's,
Oh what a fuss she made,
"Wipe those feet and dry your paws,
That carpet's just been laid."
She put us in the garden,
So we had a sniff around,
We pulled up all her flowers,
'Til none were in the ground.

Well Grandma just started shrieking,
She really got quite mad,
So we gave her some of the flowers,
To make her feel less sad.

Later on that evening,
All warm and in our beds,
Our tummies started rumbling,
It's time that we were fed.

We went into the living room,
But they were watching telly,
"Come on Gran" I barked out loud.
"It's time to fill our bellies."

We went into the kitchen,
To see what we could find,
"Oh wow", I whined, "a loaf of bread"
"I'm sure that they won't mind."

Look left, look right,
the coast was clear,
We love the smell of bread,
We grabbed it quick and hurried out to eat it in our beds.

Now for a drink to wash it down,
But the bowl's outside the door.
We go back to the living room,
and pace around the floor.

Well Grandad got the message
And let us out the back.
We shot straight past the drinking bowl,
And headed down the track.

There was something in the garden
That a Newf just can't resist,
An ornamental pond of course,
With lots of pretty fish.

After clearing out the pond for Gran,
We went back to the door,
pushed it open, went inside.
Dripping pond onto the floor.

Gran she started yelling,
Grandad, well he just laughed,
She said that we were stinking
And had to have a bath.

Cleaned and dried and let back in,
We tried to sit with Gran.
"Get off me lap you silly dog,
You're bigger than I am!!"

We got back down and left the room
and went back to our beds,
Two pairs of shoes and a slipper later,
Time to get a snooze.

Breakfast at Grandma's is great,
As we get tea and toast,
But after we were still not full
So we ate the Sunday roast!

We couldn't understand them,
But we knew that we'd been bad.
"F's" and "B's" were mentioned
Time to look real sad.

We looked at them with our big brown eyes,
Our heads held down quite low,
It did the trick - it always does
We're still their little beaus.

We didn't stay as long as planned,
As Dad he got quite stressed,
Having chased us out of the pond again,
he thought it for the best.

We kid you not, it's how it was.
We're telling you the truth.
The day we went ot Grandma's
She got well and truly NEWF'D!!!

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Giving Thanks for the Newfoundland

A Happy And Healthy Thanksgiving To All!

And for the world's most incredible creature, no more perfectly beautiful words ever have been written:



THE LEGEND OF THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG







"There is a land where the waves explode upon the reef in a boiling foam, there the legend was born.

"As the story is told, God turned one day to contemplate all of his creations and saw on that Newfoundland Isle, flailed by storm a small nation of fishermen, whose rough, weather-beaten people fought courageously against the impervious elements of nature as the freezing cold winter and the unforgiving coastline took its toll, and the sea often asked the sacrifice of human life. Nevertheless, they remained deep-rooted, these men of Newfoundland with the stubbornness as great as their courage.

"God saw, and in his infinite compassion, thought how he might alleviate their suffering. He searched among the creatures of his creations but found none that would serve. It was then he decided to create one anew.

"He took the body of a bear, whose bone structure lent well to such arduous labours and whose thick fur would resist the bitter Newfoundland cold. Then he thought to sweeten this silhouette with the lithe, flexuous lines and movements of the seal, with all its prowess to swim and speedily slip between the waves.

"Now turning to the sea, he saw the playful dolphins happily following the ships, their sweet, joy-filled eyes revealing their serene temperament, and more; they so love man that they often rescue them, saving them from the sea. Yes, they too would be part of this creature.

"When he had done the moulding and casting, there suddenly appeared in his creative arms, a superb animal with glistening black fur; powerful and sweet in the same moment.

"This new being, however, had to have an allegiance and faithfulness, tried and true, to be able to live beside man and be ever ready to offer his life for his master. It was at that moment that the Lord opened and placed in his chest, the heart of a dog, and the miracle was complete.

"From that day onward, those men of the sea had beside them, their courageous companion ever strong, ever faithful, the Newfoundland Dog."

(Reprinted in translation from the book Il Cane Di Terra Nova by Emmy Bruno, editor Mursia-Milano)

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Happy 1st Birthday to Smudge & Dash

A great big happy first birthday to our Fekete Panda twins, Smudge and sister Dash!!!


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The Brothers Karazan

Satchel and Andrew, living and loving life, and each other.


Friday, November 9, 2012

The Newfoundland: First and Foremost a Working Dog




We decry the current trend among Newfoundland breeders to breed for conformation, as if the breed standard were actually known to create the best working dog. Nevertheless, there are those who maintain this wishful thinking, yet can offer no evidence to support the theory that the current breed standard creates the ideal working dog. Their circular reasoning (particularly from our national club) needs re-evaluation.

Ironically, many decades ago, a prominent Newfista wrote the following:

From "The Twentieth Century Dog (Non-Sporting) - Compiled From The Contributions Of Over Five Hundred Experts", Volume 1, Herbert Compton (1904):



"Miss E. Goodall's Ideal Newfoundland - Royal in mien, gentle in manners, docile yet full of dignity, true as steel and faithful unto death, my ideal Newfoundland dog looks as noble as the work for which he was born - the work of rescue. When the Creator endowed him with that sublime instinct which leads him without training or direction, but out of his own consciousness, to save life at sea or in perilous waters, He bestowed on the dog an attribute that makes it not merely the king of dogs, but first in the animal kingdom. Not only to save his master is his understood duty, - there are many gallant hounds who are competent to understand that call upon their intelligence - but to succour the stranger in danger, and to carry from the shore, through surf and breakers and angry waves, assistance to wrecked vessels, labouring at the self-imposed task with a reasoning power and indomitable courage and perserverance that is not to be equalled in the annals of dumb creation. Truly and emphatically a Member of the Royal Humane Society, and worthy to be ranked with the lifeboatsman of our coasts, and the heroes of our Fire Brigades.



My ideal Newfoundland must be great in body as well as soul, with a grand and massive head; broad benevolent brow; small, dark, very intelligent eyes, ordinarily soft with affection but capable of flaming with anger on occasion; small ears hanging close to his head; deep muzzle, not too long; and the whole head and face covered with short hair that feels like velvet to the touch.



His neck is rather long and very muscular; his body proportionate and compact, with well-sprung ribs, and clothed with a dense, flat, water-resisting coat of a deep, rich black colour, long in the neck, where it almost assumes the proportions of a mane; plenty of feather on the tail and fore legs, which must be straight and strong with ample bone, for with these he chiefly battles with the waves, and wins his way. His hind legs are not quite so powerful, and less feathered.



He must be a low-built dog, for anything like legginess would detract from his appearance - that grand, solid, reassuring bulk suitable for a life in the sea. No water animal in the world is long-legged, least of all should the Newfoundland be so. His gait is that of a bear, without the clumsiness; that is to say, he advances the front and hind legs of the same side simultaneously. It is a sea-dog's walk, but he is active withal, as you shall find our British sailors when there is work to do on land with a naval brigade. And let him but glimpse the sea, and you can realise the spirit that is in him, as his exuberant delight carries him with a rush to his favourite element.



For the rest, affectionate, tractable, and especially kind to children, he endears himself to all. As a guardian unsurpassable; always mute except when there is actual danger to be apprehended. Finally - and this is the greatest tax upon his nature - my ideal Newfoundland is not quarrelsome with others of his kind, but bears with them all, his lofty spirit comprehending that though he is their king, out of consideration for his mistress's prejudices he must not insist upon being their autocrat."

Well thought out and well written. This needs to be embraced by breeders today.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Grooming Day

Chase, Andrew and Satchel survive the torture table.