A Proud and Noble Breed

Mrs. Abigail Crawford was one of those rare and dedicated individuals who had spent her entire life around show dogs. I first met her a few years ago at one of our local rescue fairs. Her breed club was taking part in one of the many scheduled events. Her life was centered on dogs, her own as well as those of others. She was always willing to lend a helping hand to those less fortunate than herself. Her show career was nothing less than the envy of her peers. She entered her first conformation ring at the age of 12 and managed to beat out a full field of experienced older handlers. Most of her family, in fact, was well respected members of the canine community.

Other kids her age delighted in spending their time at the local mall but she was different. Most of her time had been spent training and grooming. Her diligent efforts paid off in an unprecedented string of victories. Her friends could not remember a time when her home wasn’t decorated with colorful ribbons and gleaming trophies.

Over the years, her dogs become quite well known in the show community. Each litter of puppies she produced was met with a great deal of anticipation. Many of the pups she bred went on to become champions in their own right. Although she occasionally noticed other breeds at the various shows she attended, none ever captured her heart quite like her beloved Scotties. To her, the Scottish terrier embodied everything that a dog was intended to be. Often introduced in the ring as a proud and noble breed, they where her life long passion. Her years in the show ring had left her with the attitude that no other dog could ever hope to measure up to the high standards of her chosen breed.

All of that changed forever on one fateful Christmas morning…

The events of the story began three days before the venerable holiday. The family had been enjoying the off season for close to three weeks. Another hectic year had been rewarded with a fourth national championship. This was the peak of the breeding season at the Crawford household. Her first litter was due soon and the mad rush of Christmas shopping was finally over. Mrs. Crawford was enjoying a training session in the families’ large well manicured back yard with her 9 year old daughter. The pup in question was one of her most promising to date and she wanted it to be ready for the spring shows.

She had grown up in the Midwest but her husband was in the military and had been transferred to the southwestern desert three years ago. She was still not use to the warm weather. She found it difficult to get into the spirit of the season when many of her neighbors were still enjoying their swimming pools. The one thing her husbands’ long air force career had taught her however was adaptability and she was determined to make the best of it.

The training session was going well when a loud screech of brakes caught their attention. The sound came from the quiet suburban road in front of the house. Curious, she rushed out of the side gate to see what happened. The car was gone by the time she reached the front yard but the tire marks remained on the pavement. A pair of deep black scars that stood out against the backdrop of weathered gray asphalt. She noticed movement to her right and turned in time to see a ragged looking mongrel limping off into one of the carefully manicured bushes in the yard. It was obvious at a glance that the animal had been hit. The dog refused to let them approach and her first thought was to call the shelter. On closer inspection she discovered that the dog was familiar to her. She had noticed a young boy in tattered clothing walking the dog along the street on several occasions. Her first thoughts were of the irresponsibility of not only allowing the dog out on it’s own but also at the fact that it existed at all.

One of the dogs’ ears stood up straight but the other hung limp, giving it a strange comical appearance. The multi colored coat and odd shape gave no clue to the animals’ possible ancestry. The dog didn’t appear to be seriously injured so she and her daughter decided to set a small bowl of food out, close to the bush, and went back to their training. She figured the dog would return to its home as soon as it calmed down.

The events of the day where soon forgotten in the excitement of the Christmas season. Parties and celebrations filled their time along with last minute shopping trips. Before they knew it, it was Christmas morning. Not even the unseasonably warm temperatures of the desert southwest could manage to dampen the families spirits as they opened their gifts. Even the Scotties had presents of their own to open. The dogs had almost as much fun with the colorful wrapping as they did with the toys inside. After opening the present’s it was time to let them out. She watched with pride as her daughter led the parade of dogs out the back door. She had just started for the kitchen to begin preparations for breakfast when she heard a commotion in the back yard. Mrs. Crawford had lived her entire life with dogs and could tell in an instant just from the sound when something was wrong.

She recognized her daughters’ voice as well as those of her beloved Scotties, but one sound rose above them all. A loud rasping bark rang out in the yard accompanied by the unmistakable sound of snapping teeth. Fearing the worst, she ran outside in her robe and slippers and found her daughter trapped on the back porch with the dogs. The strange, floppy eared, mutt was running back and forth along the edge of the concrete snarling and snapping at anything that approached. She tried yelling and chasing the dog out of her yard but when she moved closer it drove her back. She had seen vicious dogs before but the expression on the dogs face showed none of the same sort of hatred. She distracted the dog while her daughter got the Scotties back in the house and then joined them.

The call to animal control was made quickly and they ate breakfast and dressed as they waited. She apologized to the officer for bringing him out on Christmas day and then led him out to the back yard. No sign could be seen of the intruder and they had just about given up on the search when they heard low sound from beneath the hot tub. She watched as the animal control officer got closer and bent down to look in the small service opening by the pump. After a short time he called to her and pulled the stray dogs’ lifeless body from the opening. She though of the accident a few days before and asked the officer if he thought that could have caused the dogs reaction. She had just started to ask him about the procedures for pressing charges against the careless owners when he reached back into the dark opening and pulled out another animal. The 6 foot western diamondback’s body was covered in blood from numerous bites. Although normally inactive during the winter, the warm weather and some construction work close by had driven this one from it’s underground home.

Mrs. Crawford still lives in the desert southwest and can be found at most of the major dog shows. Her daughter, now 15, recently finished her first champion. Scotties still dominate the Crawford household and her lines are still admired by everyone in the breed. Spectators who watch very carefully will see her face light up with deep emotion as the familiar words ring out from the public address system. “….A proud and noble breed…” Not a single one of them have any idea that the vision in her mind at that moment is of a ragged little face with a single floppy ear …