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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 favor 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
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