Well nearly three years ago we were demonstrating and selling at a woodfair here in devon, uk. Come the end of the first day it was raining, raining, raining. Long story short, if we hadn't been hanging out where we were to keep out of the rain to eat and socialise we wouldn't have met this litter of pups. Well, the last few out of 10. They were 12 weeks old already, and it was another 3 more before we got to bring ours home. The last blond pup, one of two in the litter. We sometimes see his blond sister and at 2 she was still gangly where Saxen wasn't (bar his paws, he's never grown into them). His mum's collie/greyhound/saluki (and his looks mostly come from his mum's side, many of his uncles are golden/silver brindle), and his dad greyhound/deerhound/collie/bedlington terrier. His family are bred as pets, companions, and hunters. Pre-ban his family were actively used for deer hunting, now post-ban and many of them still deer hunt, just they're less encouraged than they were. But enough, here he is:
12 weeks old, a few days after we got him.
Taken last summer. I know he's hiding, but I love this picture. It's in this year's calender for a rescue charity I sometimes get to support. He's Mr. July actually.
Another from 18 months ago. A winter's day on dartmoor. Same time this year dartmoor was covered with a foot of snow. That's the secret of why we english always talk about our weather - because it's never boring. I love this photo too. It's a dangerous look about him, 30mph can be reached a heartbeat, long before you have the chance to shout any commands to stop or leave or recall. My boy lives to run, eat well, and sleep well.
Last one, bit smaller. Saxen and his 'dad'. Spoilt? You betcha.
12 weeks old, a few days after we got him.
Taken last summer. I know he's hiding, but I love this picture. It's in this year's calender for a rescue charity I sometimes get to support. He's Mr. July actually.
Another from 18 months ago. A winter's day on dartmoor. Same time this year dartmoor was covered with a foot of snow. That's the secret of why we english always talk about our weather - because it's never boring. I love this photo too. It's a dangerous look about him, 30mph can be reached a heartbeat, long before you have the chance to shout any commands to stop or leave or recall. My boy lives to run, eat well, and sleep well.
Last one, bit smaller. Saxen and his 'dad'. Spoilt? You betcha.