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The perfect canine companion - which dog?

I should explain a little more about Clooney, the resident border collie on the Wye Lea stretch of the Wye, who belongs to the lady owner.

On arrival, Clooney (I think his name is ironic, he's not the most handsome of dogs, to be honest) greets anglers ahead of the long-ish walk to the river bank. He waits patiently while you unload the car of tackle, then sets off towards the river, stopping every few yards to make sure you're following him. He effectively guides you to your swim (he probably chooses the swim without you realising it) and in return he wants you to chuck a stick for him. Do that, and you've got a friend for the day.

The next bit is true. Honestly.

I mentioned his apparent affinity with anglers to the owner who said: “Oh yes, he likes to go fishing. He’ll even tell you when you’ve got a bite if you’re not looking.â€

Me: “What? How does he do that…bark, or something?â€

Lady: “Oh no, he just stands up and wags his tail when he sees the rod tip pull over.â€

I took this with a very large pinch of salt. However, on my next visit, I was given Clooney's escort-to-the-bank service and chucked him a stick. Then he seemed to wander off. However, an hour later my rod whacked round and instantaneously a loud bark came from behind me - he'd been watching like a hawk. The border collie bite alarm had added audio to his tail-wagging bobbin.

He then hopped down the bank to watch the fight at close quarters, wagging his tail throughout. He seemed as pleased as me. In fact, if I'd passed him the net, he would have probably done the honours.

However, the only thing that stops this dog from being a complete genius is his inability to distinguish a car from a sheep. Although he welcomes arriving cars calmly, when you go to leave, he goes absolutely mental. He treats my 4x4 as a giant sheep, attempting to round it up by tearing round the car at top speed, nipping at the tyres as you drive away. This goes on until you reach a certain point on his driveway, then he becomes calm again, as it nothing had happened. Truly a mad dog.
 
Typical Border I guess Steve, wonderful write up, we all seem to share not only a Passion for Angling but a passion for dogs too.
 
Hi Steve,
I've met him on a number of occasions and the funniest story I've heard about him follows,one warm sunny afternoon the said hound drifted off to sleep on one of the steeper banks,he got a rather rude awakening when he rolled down the bank and couldn't stop himself in time from falling into the wye!!!
 
Some great posts and pics. on here guys,..not wishing to be left out heres a pic of my favourite dog..Lizzie.
She was a rescued smooth coated border collie and the best behaved loving dog that I have owned. [ mind you my previous 3 dogs were all nutty setters,..2 Irish and a Gordon ]
It broke my heart when we lost her 5 years ago.

dave-taylor-albums-scenes-friends-odds-ends-picture4835-739-lizzie.jpg


We now have a very laid back Greek Sheepdog that was found tied to a skip in Greece looking in very poor condition and sporting several scars.
She was rescued by an animal welfare organisation.
She's good at sitting quietly on the riverbank and does'nt even move when I'm into a fish,..a rare occurrance admittedly!:D

dave-taylor-albums-scenes-friends-odds-ends-picture4984-scan0067-dolly-our-greek-sheepdog.jpg
 
Losing my first dog was one of the hardest things I've gone through in life and I empathise with all you guys that have also gone through it. But the joy and love they bring into you life makes it all worth it. If there is a god up there making a dogs life only around 15 years is possibly his meanest decree.
Here's is my first dog Nipper a rescued terrier and made me a dog owner for life I think, wonderful character.

 
OK, my sob story....and no apologies for it, because it is the unvarnished truth.

Toby was a long haired golden retriever, soft as muck...and had the loveliest nature I have ever come across, before or since, in man or beast. We bought him as a one year old from a local young couple who claimed 'they couldn't manage him any more'...a statement which astonished us, as we already knew what a lovely dog he was. We had met and admired him several times as we visited friends near his home, and in truth we adored him already. So, as you can imagine, we leaped at the chance of giving him a home.

Once he settled in, we soon noticed that he seemed to blink a lot, and had dark lines of damp fur running down from the corners of both eyes...so we took him without delay to the local vet. The vet recognised him instantly, even knew his name...he told us straight away that Toby had in-turned lower eyelashes, a fairly common and excruciating complaint in that breed. He explained that the young couple had brought him in quite some time back....but then once the problem was diagnosed, refused to pay for the simple 'op' to put it right....even though he made them aware of the pain the poor dog was in, 24/7. I won't bother saying any more about those 'people'...no need really, is there?

Thankfully, the hastily arranged 'op' was a great success, and afterwards Toby honestly seemed to know and appreciate what had been done for him. I know that is probably a hopeless example of anthropomorphism...but I swear it seemed to be so...and so our joyful journey began. OK, again, I know we all think OUR dogs are special, or exceptional....but I truly believe this dog was. He melted our hearts, and that of everyone who met him. He never showed one second of anger or displeasure in the seven years that we had him. If kids wanted to sit on his head...that was fine, he never murmured....nothing fazed him.

If I was ever asked to define happiness, I would just produce a photo of that dog...he gently enjoyed life to the full, smiling constantly as only dogs can...and spread that happiness to everyone he met. I can't really explain what this dog meant to my family and I. If you love dogs, you will already know...if not, then nothing I can say will change that...so be it. All I will say is, it was seven years of pure joy.

Toby died at eight years of age, having developed huge masses of cancer throughout his intestines. He must have had great pain for some time, but typically showed nothing until the day he collapsed while I was walking him. I carried him home that evening, and we stayed up with him all night, hoping it was something that would get better...but knowing inside it was not. The vet showed us the X-ray the next day, and explained the situation...and so it ended.

That was twenty odd years ago...and although I had kept dogs all my life up until then, I just can't face buying another, such was the effect that dog...and his loss, had on me. Crazy really, isn't it? Soft old irriot.

Cheers, Dave.
 
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Steve Double said:
I should explain a little more about Clooney, the resident border collie on the Wye Lea stretch of the Wye, who belongs to the lady owner.

On arrival, Clooney (I think his name is ironic, he's not the most handsome of dogs, to be honest) greets anglers ahead of the long-ish walk to the river bank. He waits patiently while you unload the car of tackle, then sets off towards the river, stopping every few yards to make sure you're following him. He effectively guides you to your swim (he probably chooses the swim without you realising it) and in return he wants you to chuck a stick for him. Do that, and you've got a friend for the day.

The next bit is true. Honestly.

I mentioned his apparent affinity with anglers to the owner who said: “Oh yes, he likes to go fishing. He’ll even tell you when you’ve got a bite if you’re not looking.”

Me: “What? How does he do that…bark, or something?”

Lady: “Oh no, he just stands up and wags his tail when he sees the rod tip pull over.”

I took this with a very large pinch of salt. However, on my next visit, I was given Clooney's escort-to-the-bank service and chucked him a stick. Then he seemed to wander off. However, an hour later my rod whacked round and instantaneously a loud bark came from behind me - he'd been watching like a hawk. The border collie bite alarm had added audio to his tail-wagging bobbin.

He then hopped down the bank to watch the fight at close quarters, wagging his tail throughout. He seemed as pleased as me. In fact, if I'd passed him the net, he would have probably done the honours.

However, the only thing that stops this dog from being a complete genius is his inability to distinguish a car from a sheep. Although he welcomes arriving cars calmly, when you go to leave, he goes absolutely mental. He treats my 4x4 as a giant sheep, attempting to round it up by tearing round the car at top speed, nipping at the tyres as you drive away. This goes on until you reach a certain point on his driveway, then he becomes calm again, as it nothing had happened. Truly a mad dog.
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Good post Steve. Most collies love to chase cars and bite the tyres. One of the funniest movie scenes I can remember is in Hotshots, the spoof of Top Gun, where a collie chases and tries to bite the tyres of an F-16 taking off from an aircraft carrier! :D:D
 
David Gauntlett said:
OK, my sob story....and no apologies for it, because it is the unvarnished truth.

Toby was a long haired golden retriever, soft as muck...and had the loveliest nature I have ever come across, before or since, in man or beast. We bought him as a one year old from a local young couple who claimed 'they couldn't manage him any more'...a statement which astonished us, as we already knew what a lovely dog he was. We had met and admired him several times as we visited friends near his home, and in truth we adored him already. So, as you can imagine, we leaped at the chance of giving him a home.

Once he settled in, we soon noticed that he seemed to blink a lot, and had dark lines of damp fur running down from the corners of both eyes...so we took him without delay to the local vet. The vet recognised him instantly, even knew his name...he told us straight away that Toby had in-turned lower eyelashes, a fairly common and excruciating complaint in that breed. He explained that the young couple had brought him in quite some time back....but then once the problem was diagnosed, refused to pay for the simple 'op' to put it right....even though he made them aware of the pain the poor dog was in, 24/7. I won't bother saying any more about those 'people'...no need really, is there?

Thankfully, the hastily arranged 'op' was a great success, and afterwards Toby honestly seemed to know and appreciate what had been done for him. I know that is probably a hopeless example of anthropomorphism...but I swear it seemed to be so...and so our joyful journey began. OK, again, I know we all think OUR dogs are special, or exceptional....but I truly believe this dog was. He melted our hearts, and that of everyone who met him. He never showed one second of anger or displeasure in the seven years that we had him. If kids wanted to sit on his head...that was fine, he never murmured....nothing fazed him.

If I was ever asked to define happiness, I would just produce a photo of that dog...he gently enjoyed life to the full, smiling constantly as only dogs can...and spread that happiness to everyone he met. I can't really explain what this dog meant to my family and I. If you love dogs, you will already know...if not, then nothing I can say will change that...so be it. All I will say is, it was seven years of pure joy.

Toby died at eight years of age, having developed huge masses of cancer throughout his intestines. He must have had great pain for some time, but typically showed nothing until the day he collapsed while I was walking him. I carried him home that evening, and we stayed up with him all night, hoping it was something that would get better...but knowing inside it was not. The vet showed us the X-ray the next day, and explained the situation...and so it ended.

That was twenty odd years ago...and although I had kept dogs all my life up until then, I just can't face buying another, such was the effect that dog...and his loss, had on me. Crazy really, isn't it? Soft old irriot.

Cheers, Dave.
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:(:(:(
 
Dave:):):):) well put and well done mate, as you know the industry i am involved in but nobody in it would stand by and see an animal suffer no matter which species, that dog was fortunate in finally finding a home where it was loved and cared for:):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):)
 
Dave,

That really brought a tear to my eye and I agree that such a wonderful dog cannot be replaced.

Warm regards,

Hugo


 
Long wire haired vizier bitch, cracking dog,full of fun,great guard dog,great with kids, ours would wake me up all hours of the morning if she herd foxes howling, and paw me, also she could here the grass grow, labbys good dog ,but bit on the bouncer side, springers also , vizlers spot on ,best dog I have ever had
 
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I have to admit to a slight downside with mine, She does not understand the concept of fences Just replaced another perfectly good 3 meter panel of closeboard that stood in the way of a vigorous debate she wished to have with an urban fox who decided to visit our garden.
 
This is Ronnie. He is the third springer I have been lucky enough to own. I got him when he was about 8 months. He had been put in a rescue then went for sniffer dog training which he failed before I had him. Trouble was I think he only wants to find things he can eat or chase. As you can tell from the picture he's also not the sharpest.

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He is however a great companion rain or shine and enjoys his fishing as much as me!:)

2102012136_zps20efb7f3.jpg

151_zps8af7711c.jpg

042_zpse39baf59.jpg
 
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I love other peoples dogs but have never had one and, probably, never will. I haven't got the time to give a dog the exercise it needs and both I and the wife work, so it would be left to the mother-in-law to deal with. However, I have thoroughly enjoyed reading all the posts in this thread and feeling the warmth exuding from your comments about your chosen canine. Having hooked a jack Russell (in the lower leg) on the banks of the Trent and having to wait almost half an hour before the owner was in a position to dive on him with an unhooking mat (to prevent injury to himself) before I extricated the micro-barbed hook, I do worry about dogs being around when I'm fishing. My club don't allow them on our waters and wonder how you all manage when things do go awry with other anglers?

PS In a parallel universe, it would probably be a black lab for me too!
 
i cant recommend a good fishing dog, but i can tell you that English bull terriers are without doubt the worst fishing dog available.

I've tried and tried with my last two, and failed miserably. It would be less stressful taking a bunch of delinquent asbo hoodies fishing!


(but theres no other dog i'd rather have:eek:)
 
Marty Mulcairn said:
i cant recommend a good fishing dog, but i can tell you that English bull terriers are without doubt the worst fishing dog available.

I've tried and tried with my last two, and failed miserably. It would be less stressful taking a bunch of delinquent asbo hoodies fishing!


(but theres no other dog i'd rather have:eek:)
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Marty, ours have always been well behaved, we are on our 5th at the moment, I agree though no other dog I would rather have.
 
Marty Mulcairn said:
i cant recommend a good fishing dog, but i can tell you that English bull terriers are without doubt the worst fishing dog available.

I've tried and tried with my last two, and failed miserably. It would be less stressful taking a bunch of delinquent asbo hoodies fishing!


(but theres no other dog i'd rather have:eek:)
Click to expand...

Hi Marty,

My first experience with Eng. bull terrier nutters was as a boy. It was chained to a wooden dog kennel about the size of a bungalow, round the back of my mates parents shop. I tried to get past it to call on my mate...and it took off after me, dragging the damned kennel behind it :eek: All was well though, my mate came flying out and grabbed him, called me over....and all the daft thing wanted to do was lick me to death :D

Made friends with a few since, all just as mad.

As you say...nice but loony :D

Cheers, Dave.
 
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