“The past is a foreign country”

Way back in 1975 we were looking for a dog – not just any dog.

At that time, as now, I lived by a canal.  One day when I was travelling along the Grand Western Canal on a horse-drawn barge, suddenly, there appeared on the tow-path, at the top of a flight of steps, a magnificent, noble-looking, long-haired dog which looked right at me.  I’d never seen a dog like it before and, after some research, discovered that it was an English Setter.

We searched for this elusive (to us) breed and our quest took us to a farm in Totnes in South Devon, where we were shown a rather ragged-looking, under-nourished “almost” Setter. We asked whether there were others, were pointed in the direction of a brown-looking dog and told “What about this one?  They’re all the same.”  The vibes were not good, we left immediately and I realised that this must have been a puppy farm.

So … the search began in earnest for a REAL English Setter and, before long, on 14 June 1975, we found ourselves in a cottage nestling into a hillside on the edge of Dartmoor.  We had come to visit Jim and Wendy Hanby, breeders of English, Irish and Gordon Setters.  They had 3 puppies available, 2 of which they were going to keep themselves.

Before we got ANYWHERE, we were subjected to what seemed like The Spanish Inquisition.  Where was this puppy going to be housed?  Did we work?  What sort of garden did we have?  What sort of bed would the dog have? Where would we walk it? The questions went on and on – a little daunting but we were thoroughly scutinized.  We weren’t sure whether we were considered suitable owners but, after a couple of hours,  were allowed to choose one of the 3 puppies seen in the top photo – we chose the one in the middle and called him Max (the other 2 were Sophie and Sweep).  Max was a truly wonderful dog in all respects – placid, calm, friendly and superb with Miss Dancing when she arrived.  The photo above shows Max with Miss Dancing when she was small.  When she was a baby, he would support her as she learnt to sit up and provided a comfortable way for her to slide down him on her stomach.

We were told that if we needed to board Max then Wendy and Jim would have him back to stay and they charged us the absolute minimum.  We loved to go and visit them and listen to their stories and giggle with them at the antics of the dogs, horses, donkeys and cats that they had.  They seemed to have Setters coming out from everywhere – the kitchen contained I don’t know how many – instead of a fitted kitchen the under-counter cupboard area (that should have been) was full of dogs!

On one visit they had had a beautiful litter of Gordon Setters and Jim took a delighted Miss Dancing and her brother to see them.  To this day, I think she still yearns for a Gordon Setter.

Wendy taught me EXACTLY the correct way to trim an English Setter in a kindly, no-nonsense way explaining that, as they were being groomed, very often they relaxed on the table and “spread out like warm jam”.

Years later when Max died, we considered long and hard about having another dog – a decision which can never be taken lightly.  When we wanted to go ahead, it was Wendy who had tracked down a puppy and came to Plymouth with us to help make the choice.  She can be seen with me in the photo above in 1985 on our visit.  A decision also had to be made about a name for this dog and I phoned Wendy to ask whether she would mind if we named it after one of hers – Wistman – a name taken from Wistman’s Wood, an ancient oak woodland on Dartmoor. Wistman as a bigger pup is shown with us in the last photo above.

So .. my trip into the past was generated just yesterday by a BBC feature I saw, stating that “Native dog breeds such as the English Setter are being pushed towards extinction by the growing popularity of more exotic dogs such as Chihuahuas, new figures suggest. The setter, once a popular working dog, is one of the country’s oldest breeds. But statistics from the Kennel Club show a two-thirds decline in puppy registrations over the last 10 years.”

I was saddened to discover this and, after a little research, even more saddened to find out that Wendy died just before Christmas.  I last saw her about 5 or 6 years ago.  We popped in en-route to Cornwall and she was as lovely as ever “You WILL stay for lunch won’t you?  It’s only crackers and cheese”  How many times had we heard that in the past and had such a wonderful time with her.

So … this trip to that foreign country is, in fact a trip down memory lane, savouring fond memories of someone who, with her husband (who sadly pre-deceased her), made this world a better place.

Wendy was a talented artist and, over the years, we received each Christmas one of her Setter cards – I hope to recover some of the cards from the box of Christmas decorations in the loft, scan them and post a few on my blog.  I hope she wouldn’t have minded me doing that.  

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