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Monica McClamrock
The Weekly Brief
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My first purebred dog whom I raised from puppyhood was a Chesapeake Bay Retriever. I was 22 years old and a first-year medical student.
My seven-year-old Labrador Retriever, a retired show girl and dam, had been diagnosed with leukemia. Char, CH Celebration’s Char-Koll, came to me when she was five, purchased by my parents to keep me safe when living off campus in Baltimore City. This was 1979, and there was no hope attached to surviving this diagnosis. I was devastated. I was desperate to acquire a dog before I lost her. I did not see how I could cope with the rigor of medical education and training without a dog. I was raised with Labs, and a Lab was what my father and I set out to find. We combed the local newspaper classified ads for a litter, but there were no Labs listed. There was, however, a Chesapeake Bay Retriever litter not too far away. We had no experience with Chessies, but off we went to look.
The breeder had both sire and dam. Both were working gundogs, and they were formidable. I remember the breeder saying that he could leave his dogs with a 100-dollar bill on the dashboard of his truck, unlocked and windows down, and that $100 and the dogs would still be there when he got back. I lived in a “changing neighborhood” in Baltimore, and that sounded good to me. This protective temperament is absolutely true to the breed. I call them the GSD (German Shepherd Dog) of the retrievers. This first Chessie, Bridget, Baltimore’s Best Bridge Mix, chased out a home intruder who had forced a window in the wee small hours while I was asleep. Truly, it was she and I against the world.
She saw me through medical school, residency, marriage, and the birth of my first child. Chessies aren’t for everyone, but they are for me. Over 46 years, I have never been without one. A more loyal dog to their family you will not find. Each Chessie has reflected who I was at that time in my life, and I can’t think of any aspect of my adult journey without the accompanying Chesapeake Bay Retriever in mind.
When my second Chessie was 12, my younger son started lobbying for his own dog. He, too, was 12 and had helped with the family mission of taking care of my Navy sister’s dogs while she was deployed in the Persian Gulf during Desert Storm. He had proven his worth, and I didn’t want to be caught dog-less when my old girl passed, so I agreed. We thought a medium-sized dog would be suitable. My husband and son cooked up the idea of a Bull Terrier. There was one up the street and they thought she was cool looking. One of his coworkers knew a Bull Terrier breeder who just so happened to have a pregnant bitch, and off we went.
We were the prototypical “want a dog but don’t know anything about the breed” family. Sure, Bull Terriers seem medium-sized, but they are every bit as strong as my 85-pound Chessies. We had no prior terrier experience. We knew nothing about preservation vs. casual breeders. How fortunate we were that this breeder was a member of the Bull Terrier Club of America and active in the Conformation show world! She trusted us with one of the pups, a white dog, and Buster, Shazam’s Avalanche, became the ruler of our household from the moment he came home. I spent 10 years of his 12-year life trying to make him into a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, and we know who lost that battle.
When it became clear that Buster’s life was coming to an end, I was bereft. My family thought I had lost my mind. My sons were incredulous (“YOU want ANOTHER one?”). These Bull Terriers, they get under your skin in a way that no other dog can. The saying goes, “It’s not a dog; it’s a Bull Terrier,” and that is a truism. They are maddening and endearing. One second you are yelling, and the next second you are laughing. They are the most sensitive dogs to human emotion I have ever experienced. I had come to know the breed, having learned the hard way, and yes, I wanted another one.
That next white dog, Archie, GCH CH OC Mystic’s Steve McQueen O’Malvern, took me into the Conformation show world. I had signed a contract that said he would show if he was deemed show material, and I honor my pledges. I knew nothing about that, either, but my kids were grown and road trips with my dog seemed like fun. There really is no better road companion than a Bull Terrier. They are social butterflies and charm every person they meet. Plus, and I say this with fervor, anything that teaches a Bull Terrier to mind his own business in the presence of other dogs is a win/win!
His co-owner was two states away, so I took Archie to handling classes to prepare him for the ring. I don’t think it was lost on anyone in the Bull Terrier show community that there was this crazy lady who schlepped her dog to Specialty shows over a 1,000-plus mile radius. Completely unwittingly, I became a show home. I admit that I was bitten by the bug, and I have now shown my two Bull Terrier bitches to their Championships and beyond.
They are a strange combination, Chessies and Bull Terriers, but they work well in my family. I have had both together for 20-odd years. The stand-offish, no-nonsense temperament of the Chesapeake Bay Retriever creates a force-field which the in-your-face Bull Terrier respects. I cannot imagine life without either. I am eternally grateful to those first breeders who gave me a chance and trusted me with their pups despite my total ignorance of their breeds.
