WhiteRose Sheepdogs
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WhiteRose Sheepdogs
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Web ChangesThis is where we'll announce the most recent additions to our web site. If you've visited us before and want to know what's changed, take a look here first.
22nd June 2008 English trial results & Diary 6th June 2008 English Trial results & diary 21st May 2008 English trial results and diary 19th May 2008 Welsh trial results 13th May 2008 English Trial results & diary 7th May 2008 English trial results & Diary 29th April 2008 Farmers Guardian article on Dog Watch (scroll down for story) 29th April 2008 English Trial Results & Diary 28th April 2008 Welsh Trial Results 22nd April 2008 English Trial Results & Diary 19th April 2008 Scottish Trial Results 19th April 2008 English Trial Results & Diary 12th April 2008 Scottish Trial Results 11th April 2008 English Trial Results & Diary. 11th April 2008. The Working Sheep Dog (see dogs) 2nd April 2008 : Jim Cropper commences Open season with win. (see trials) 31st March 2008 English trial results & Diary 22nd March 2008 Sheep Dog Auction see News 22nd March 2008 latest Scottish trial results. see trials
Articles ( 13th March 2008) A couple of years ago I wrote an article for the American Border Collie Magazine, then edited by Lena Bailey, about a dog I sold to a farmer on the borders of England, Scotland. Well I was in the area just last month and decided to call on old Amos and see how things were. Things had changed and after he told me his story, I left in a completely different mood from my previous visit. Last week after much thought I called Amos and asked if I could write another article to let people know of what had happened. He had laughed at my first article on him and the emails I had had for the recipe; and I believed people would seriously be respectfully interested in the conclusion of the story. “ If you like “ was his answer. "The Magical Broth" was my first article. (I cannot remember when it was printed as I do not have a copy of the American Border Collie Magazine in which it was written. I would be interested to know if anyone out there can help. ) It will be followed by the conclusion very soon, as soon as it has Amos' approval.
The Magical Broth. I will soon be approaching thirty years of training and dealing in sheepdogs. Looking back over the years I have had many unusual experiences with buying and selling them, but few could have been more remarkable than my recent sale of a little bitch named Kit. It was early last year when I set out on a long journey to deliver her to a remote farm on the Scottish, English border. I have known the man for many years and we have done several deals together. After several hours driving I arrived at the farm on this cold, damp day. It was lambing time and as I drove into the yard there was a small pile of dead ewes and lambs waiting for the knacker man to take away. On top of the heap was a sheepdog with a hole in it’s head. I pulled up and got out of my truck. My friend Amos was there to greet me. “Is that old Meg,” I said instantly. “What happened?” “Slowed down a lot” said Amos. “And as you were bringing another, there’s no point in feeding extra.” “Gave her a good retirement” I said sarcastically, but Amos never answered. It was his way and although I tried to see things from his point of view, I found it difficult to get my head that far up my arse. We put Kit inside a building and went into the house to conduct our business. Not many got into Amos’ house as he was a private man living with his sister who was illiterate and a little slow on the uptake. As I entered the room, I noticed things had not changed from my previous visit. The flag floor was covered by a carpet that looked as if it had been tarred. Hessian sacks, held up with baler twine were being used as curtains. The fire burned in the black range with a log sticking out about three foot long that Amos kept kicking into the fire as it burned away. The big farmhouse table seemed to take up most of the room with an assortment of stools and chairs around it. Not much creature comforts as there seemed to be everything in there but the cow. “You’ll be hungry as usual “said Amos with a smile. “ I always am” said I. Turning to his sister who was sat on a stool besides the fire, keeping warm. “Give him some eggs” She got to her feet. No smile or response came from her red face, caused through too much just staring at the fire. Her dark waist length hair needed a good wash, as did her dirty legs and shoeless feet. She put an egg in a pan of boiling water that was on the fire. Within a couple of minutes she placed it before me on a plate at the table. As I broke the shell, it ran all over the plate as it had not been cooked through. “That’s no good” said Amos a little scolding. “No matter” I said, as I realized she would have been nervous with a visitor. She saw very few people, and it was only recently that she would stay in the room when I visited. As she would always go and hide if she saw anyone coming to the house. “Will you have some broth?” said Amos. “I could murder some” said I. With that his sister rushed off to the kitchen and came back with a large bowl of broth and an even bigger piece of bread. As I ate the broth, she stood by my shoulder and watched. I turned and said to her “This is lovely” I received no response other than a stare. “ She likes you “ said Amos. I just smiled at him and continued to eat the broth, thinking I’m not marrying her for the farm. I empted my bowl and instantly Amos asked if I would like some more. “Would love some more” I quickly replied, “but first can I use the bathroom.” “We’re frozen upstairs” he said. “But there’s a dry one out back, through the kitchen. I got up and set off to find it. As I went through the kitchen I could not help but noticing the stove, or at least that’s what I presumed it was. Covered in stalagmites and stalactites of fat all around it, perched on the top was a steel bucket. Sticking out of the top of the bucket was a pair of sheep horns. As I looked into the bucket I came face to face with another sheep staring up at me from the bottom of the bucket, surrounded by carrots, parsnips, peas, onions, potatoes, and bits of whatever else. This was my broth. I returned to the table where his sister was stood beside my chair to watch me eat my second bowl, this time with an even larger piece of bread. I ate the lot and I must be honest it tasted really good. Although I did have serious concerns that something would develop in my stomach on the way home!! But nothing. In fact I felt great. It had been a long day and normally on a journey like that I would have had to stop for a break; but I was wide awake and even found it difficult to get to sleep when I finely arrived home in the early hours of the morning. I contacted Amos after a few weeks, just for a general chat and to see how Kit was doing. “No bloody good at all” was his reply. “Have bought a big strong dog from Willie Smith” “She was a good bitch” I said, “what’s gone wrong” “No problem to start with” he said “ then our lass got hold of it. Playing with it, throwing sticks and things. Takes it for walks all over the place. Last week they went right to the village and someone had to bring them back. Now she knows her way she could always be going. Lies at her feet in front of the fire most of the time and sleeps on her bed. I said she had better keep it and look after it if she likes it that much.” “You’re all heart Amos” was my reply. I hope Kit brings a smile to her face. Her magical broth certainly brought one to mine.
John Atkinson True Love (18th March 2008)
Much time has passed since I last went to visit Amos and his sister, but it only seems weeks not years. As I drove down the long track to farm I was wondering how Kit would be doing and if she finally went to work for Amos or if they had bred with her. It would be nice to see them all again. This time there was no one to greet me so I went to the door and knocked loudly. After a while the door opened and there stood Amos. He was only half the man I knew. He had lost weight and although he never was a man to excel in dress, his clothes hung off him like rags. " Now then" he said as he shook my hand and placed his other arm around my back pulling me towards him, like a long lost friend. He had never shown that side of himself before. " Come in , it's nice to see you " . As I sat down at the table; Amos had gone into the kitchen to make tea; I looked around to see that nothing had changed much. Amos came into the room with two mugs of tea. "Where's your lass" said I. She was always never far away. Amos put the tea on the table, slumped into a chair and bowed his head. After a long pause he raised his head and looked straight at me. Tears slowly ran down his rugged face, and he was slavering at the mouth. " She died" he choked. " Oh my God, I'm so sorry" said I, and we sat in silence for quiet a while. His grief was deeply entrenched, as he sobbed while trying to drink his tea. The least said the better. He would tell me when he was ready. "They had it down as pneumonia" he said, " but it was a broken heart, that killed her. It seemed she did not want to live. She loved that bitch Kit you sold us. They never left each others side. " Aye" said I, with a sigh. I did not know what to say. Amos continued. Three months ago they were going down to the village. She enjoyed the walk and could find her way back with Kit. People used to say hello to her and she would say hello back. She would visit the shops and look at things. Everyone got to know her and were always nice and kind to her. On their way back from the village, Kit for some reason stepped in the road and a car ran over her and killed her. I knew the man who was driving. He brought them both back to the farm and told me it was an accident and there was nothing he could have done to avoid Kit. She just stepped out in front of his car. He was a good honest man and I could see he was shaken and very upset. We tried to console our lass, but she had frozen with Kit in her arms. The man left and I tried to talk but got nowhere. Evening came and I went to my bed only to lie and listen to our lass sobbing all night. In the morning she was still sat there. Kit was stiff and cold with her head soaked in tears. " Come on " I said, " We'll have to bury her," as I took Kit from her arms. We buried her in the orchard where they spent a lot of time together, playing. She did not speak, eat or drink for four days. I called the doctor who said she would have to be admitted to hospital, but she died before the ambulance came. "Oh it hurts," said Amos. " I can still hear them playing and our lass laughing while they played". " That's nice " said I, not really knowing what to say. " Aye, no one ever thought she would smile and laugh, but when she did, she had the smile of an angel " Pointing to wall behind me. I turned and looked, and there hung a picture of the two of them in the orchard, full of the joys of heaven. Kit certainly did bring a smile to her face.
John Atkinson
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Contact Details Tel: 01904 448371 Mobile: 07850 710837 E-mail JohnAtkinson Copyright © 2008
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