A
Breeder (with a capital B) is one who thirsts for
knowledge and never really knows it all, one who
wrestles with decisions of conscience, convenience,
and commitment. A Breeder is one who sacrifices
personal interests, finances, time, friendships,
fancy furniture, and deep pile carpeting! She gives
up the dreams of a long, luxurious cruise in favour
of turning that all important Show into this years
"vacation". The Breeder goes without sleep
(but never without coffee!) in hours spent planning
a breeding or watching anxiously over the birth
process, and afterwards, over every little sneeze,
wiggle or cry. The Breeder skips dinner parties
because that litter is due or the babies have to
be fed at eight. She disregards birth fluids and
puts mouth to mouth to save a gasping new-born,
literally blowing life into a tiny, helpless creature
that may be the culmination of a lifetime of dreams.
A Breeders lap is a marvelous place where generations
of proud and noble champions once snoozed. A Breeders
hands are strong and firm and often soiled, but
ever so gentle and sensitive to the thrusts of a
puppy's wet nose. A Breeders back and knees are
usually arthritic from stooping, bending, and sitting
in the birthing box, but are strong enough to enable
the breeder to Show the next choice pup to a Championship.
A Breeders shoulders are stooped and often heaped
with abuse from competitors, but they're wide enough
to support the weight of a thousand defeats and
frustrations. A Breeders arms are always able to
wield a mop, support an armful of puppies, or lend
a helping hand to a newcomer. A Breeders ears are
wondrous things, sometimes red (from being talked
about) or strangely shaped (from being pressed against
a phone receiver), often deaf to criticism, yet
always fine-tuned to the whimper of a sick puppy.
A Breeders eyes are blurred from pedigree research
and sometimes blind to her own dog's faults, but
they are ever so keen to the competitions faults
and are always searching for the perfect specimen.
A Breeders brain is foggy on faces, but it can recall
pedigrees faster than an IBM computer. It's so full
of knowledge that sometimes it blows a fuse: it
catalogues thousands of good bonings, fine ears,
and perfect heads... and buries in the soul the
failures and the ones that didn't turn out. The
Breeders heart is often broken, but it beats strongly
with hope everlasting... and it's always in the
right place! Oh, yes, there are breeders, and then,
there are BREEDERS!!
By Peggy Adamson |
