AiredaleTerriers.org Airedale Terrier Information & Referral Resource

Butz is not only my first Airedale but my first ever dog. He is nearly four months old as I write, so we have a hopefully long and delightful stretch ahead of us! You may think an Airedale is a challenging choice for a non-dog person, but this is the only breed I've ever wanted from the point of view of both looks and personality. I admire the appearance of some other breeds - Irish Setters, Borzois, Border Collies - but none touches me the way an Airedale does.

Although Butz has dramatically changed the appearance of our garden and, to a lesser extent, our house and wardrobe, he has equally dramatically increased the joy in our lives. To see him come racing towards me, puppy ears flapping in the breeze, big grin, perky little tail, bright black smiling eyes thrills me in a way I had never thought possible.

As he is so young I don't have many Butz stories to relate; he is very very quick to learn, but variable in mood from sweet, cuddly and responsive to wild, rough and "deaf". I think I have laughed more in the two months we have been together than in the rest of my life put together. We go to "proper" obedience classes as I hope to enter him in competition one day; at our very first class, the room was full of expert Border Collie people (some trainers themselves, many with wins under their belt). What did Butz do but swagger confidently into the hall, and make a beeline for someone's sandwiches which they had inadvisedly placed under their chair. (All the Border Collies present ignored the sandwiches of course.) In no time at all the stranger's lunch was being whizzed round the hall simultaneously disappearing into Butz's JAWSOFDEATH as he thoroughly shook and "killed" them.

The reason I chose an Airedale is because my father had one as a boy, way back in 1918 when Dad was six and the breed was still young (and somewhat fashionable). His 'dale, Pat, made such a lasting impression on him that he told me all sorts of interesting stories on an almost daily basis and even half a century later would shed tears when relating the final story of Pat's death aged 12. Pat was nearly killed by a cat when a tiny puppy, and since then he and my father both hated cats (I love them by the way). Other than being a cat chaser, Pat was near perfect. He protected Dad from bullies at school; saw off a burglar; took my father home when he got lost miles from home in Epping Forest; and a thousand other wonderful deeds. According to my father Pat had a huge vocabulary and repertoire of tricks. They lived side by side for the whole of Pat's life, going everywhere together, and such was their bond that I felt it even though Pat died many decades before I was born.

Thank you Dad and Pat, for being the cause of my getting my beloved Butz. My one regret is that my father didn't live to meet Butz (the reason for my having a dog only now is that it's my first opportunity to give him enough time). How they would have loved each other!

Mary-Rose Douglas
mr@extraloudpurrs.com
9/17/00