Every summer
when I was a child our family had a summer holiday, we would pack up the car
and drive great distances to visit relatives or explore new parts of the
country.
My lasting
and fondest memory is the times we spent in the Bay of Plenty area, my mother’s
family live in many of the small towns dotted around this wonderful part of New
Zealand.
The country
side has nothing to do with my liking of this time; it is the dogs that lived
there. Most of the homes we visited or stayed at where those of hunters. With
hunting comes a collection of dogs.
I would be excited as we neared certain homes and could
hardly wait for the greetings and questions to stop. With large extended
families it is easy to remain in the back ground as a child and melt away, not
long after arrival I would find myself at the kennels patting and playing with
a team of pig dogs all vying for my attention. I think this is where my love of
brindle coloured dogs comes from; oddly enough I have never owned one of that
colour but find myself drawn to them.
Hunting dogs have presence about them other dogs lack; they
have a bearing that says I know what my purpose in life is. These dogs where
loved and respected, as an integral part of the food gathering system they
shared with their owners. Hunting dogs do what dogs are supposed to do; they
live fit healthy full lives.
