Lanebern Saint Bernards
Here are a few 'poems' or notes for fun.
(Most are by anonymous writers & are not referring purely to Saints)
I love my little puppy; she makes my house a home.
She is my very sweetest little friend; I never feel alone.
She makes me smile; She makes me laugh; She fills my heart with love . . .
Did some person breed her, or did she fall from above?
I've never been a breeder, never seen life through their eyes;
I hold my little puppy and just sit and criticize.
I've never known their anguish; I've never felt their pain,
the caring of their charges, through snow or wind or rain.
I've never waited the whole night through for babies to be born,
The stress and trepidation when they're still not there by morn.
The weight of responsibility for this body in my hands,
his darling little baby, who weighs but 60 grams.
Should you do that instead of this . . . or maybe that was wrong?
Alone you fight and hope, one day, he'll grow up proud and strong.
You pray he'll live to bring great joy to someone else's home.
You know it's all just up to you; you'll fight this fight alone.
Formula, bottles, heating pads, you've got to get this right,
two-hour feedings for this tiny guy, throughout the day and night.
Within your heart you dread that you will surely lose this fight,
To save this little baby, but God willing . . . you just MIGHT.
Day one; he's in there fighting; you say a silent prayer.
Day two & three, he's doing well, with lots of love and care.
Day four & five . . . he's still alive; your hopes soar to the
Day six he slips away again, dies in your hands, day seven.
You take this little angel, and bury him alone.
With aching heart and burning tears, and an exhausted groan,
You ask yourself, "Why do this? . . . Why suffer through this pain?"
Yet watch the joy your puppies bring, and everything's explained.
So, when you think of breeders and label them with "Greed,"
Think of all that they endure to fill another's need.
For when you buy your puppy, with your precious dollars part,
You only pay with money . . . while they pay with all their heart.
.... Author Unknown....
You Know You're A Saint Lover When...
You don't own anything that's easily broken.
The seats in the back of your estate car are constantly down.
Your wardrobe consists of mainly light and tan-coloured clothing.
You traded in your super fast sports car for a mini van.
The walls of your house are textured...unintentionally.
You have gone through 3 vacuum cleaners within 6 months. And, when vacuuming you have to stop twice to empty the bag.
Your "dog pen" consists of the whole back room or yard.
You have locks on all your kitchen cupboards--including those fixed 5 feet up.
A peaceful afternoon consists of your dog NOT snoring.
The water bowl is really a 5 gallon bucket.
You can no longer see in or out through your vehicle side windows.
Your legs are covered in bruises from your dog's favorite pastime of "bulldozing". You buy your dog food by the bag rather than by the pound.
You gave up on the coffee table 6 months ago and assigned it to the attic.
Even though the car has come to a halt, it is still gently rocking.
You carry a piece of towel with you everywhere you go.
You have come to despise summer and can't wait for winter to return.
You concreted over the lawn 6 weeks after getting your dog(s).
When sitting on the toilet, soggy tennis balls being dropped into your underwear are a common occurrence.
You know there's just no way you'll ever get a dog car crate that's big enough. Heavy breathing no longer bothers you.
You have to pick up the dog mess -- everyone in the neighborhood will know where it came from.
You used to think German Shepherd's were big dogs.
YOU ARE LOVED AND IDOLIZED BEYOND A SHADOW OF A DOUBT.
Just One More Dog .......
One Dog Is No Trouble And Two Are So Funny
The Third One Is Easy, The Fourth One's A Honey
The Fifth Is Delightful, The Sixth One's A Breeze
You Find You Can Live With A Housefly With Ease
So How 'Bout Another? Would You Really Dare?
They're Really Quite Easy, But Oh Lord, The Hair!
With Dogs On The Sofa And Dogs On The Bed
And Crates In The Kitchen, Its No Bother You Said
They're Really No Trouble, Their Manners Are Great
What's Just One More Dog And One More Little Crate?
The Sofa Is Hairy, The Windows Are Crusty
The Floor Is All Footprints, The Furniture's Dusty
The Housekeeping Suffers But What Do You Care?
Who Minds A Few Nose prints And A Little More Hair?
So Let's Keep A Puppy, You Can Always Find Room
And A Little More Time For The Dust Cloth And Broom
There's Hardly A Limit To The Dogs You Can Add
The Thought Of A Cutback Sure Makes You Feel Sad
Each One Is Special, So Useful, So Funny
The Food Bill Grows Larger, You Owe The Vet Money
Your Folks Never Visit, Few Friends Come To Stay
Except Other Dog Folks Who Live The Same Way
Your Lawn Has Now Died And Our Shrubs Are Dead Too
Your Weekends Are Busy, Your Off With Your Crew
There's Dog Food And Vitamins, Training And Shots
And Entries And Travel And Motels Which Cost Lots
Is It Worth It You Wonder? Are You Caught In A Trap?
Then That Favourite Comes Up And Climbs In Your Lap
His Look Says You're Special And You Know That You Will
Keep All The Critters In Spite Of The Bill
Some Just For Showing And Some Just To Breed
And Some Just For Loving, They All Fill A Need
Winter Is A Hassle But The Dogs Love It True
And They Must Have Their Walks Tho' You Are Numb And Blue
Late Evening Is Awful, You Scream And You Shout
At The Dogs On The Sofa Who Refuse To Go Out
The Dogs And The Dog Shows, The Travel, The Thrills
The Work And The Worry, The Pressure, The Bills
The Whole Thing Seems Worth It, The Dogs Are Your Life
They're Charming And Funny And Offset The Strife
Your Lifestyle Has Changed, Things Just Won't Be The Same
Yes Those Dogs Are Addictive And So's The Dog Game
Dear Fur Children ......
When Mom says to move, it means go someplace else, not switch positions so that you are still in the way. Your brown eyes will not win you the best seat in the house. Just because Mom went to get a glass of water doesn't mean you have next dibs on her seat.
The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a pawprint in the middle of Mom's plate and food does not stake your claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor does Mom find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.
The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating Mom to the bottom is not the object. Tripping Mom doesn't help, because Mom falls faster than you can run. So don't complain when your paw or tail gets injured. Mom's cast is a far more serious result of your need to go fast.
Mom cannot buy anything bigger than a king size bed. She is very sorry about this. Do not think Mom will continue to sleep on the couch to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs sleeping; they can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. Mom also knows that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end
to maximize space used is nothing but doggy sarcasm.
When Mom is working on the computer, jumping up and trying to grab the
mouse through the glass is not helpful. Barking at Mom because she's not
helping you achieve your goal does not win you any extra brownie points.
Mom's compact discs are not miniature Frisbees. For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, and try to turn the knob, or get your paw
under the edge and try to pull the door open. Mom must exit through the same door she entered. In addition, Mom has been using bathrooms for years, canine attendance is not mandatory.
The proper order is kiss Mom, go smell other dog's butt. Mom cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you guys to make.
Lastly, please do not drag your butt on the carpet, and if you must puke then look for the linoleum, and if you have a butt cling-on do not hide under the bed, and if you must eat Kleenex eat it all don't leave the bits of wet small gobs all over the house....and if I catch you with my best lace undies on your head one more time you become a permanent
OUTDOOR dog. That means more shots for you and a dingy little house, no bed, and none of the lovely privileges you have already granted yourself.
Much love to you my good buddy. It helps that you are a perfect listener when it doesn't involve anything you have done. That you share your body heat unconditionally. That you seem to have a permanent grin. That your eyelids flap when you hang your head out the car window. That you have a strength and endurance I can only envy. And that you have taught me that there is a time to work a time to play and a time to rest.
Dogs really are a best friend, and I swear you understand every word I say.
Ten Commandments for Pet Owners
1. My life is likely to last 10 to 15 years. Any separation from you will be very painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want from me. Do not break my spirit with your temper, though I will always forgive you. Your patience and understanding will teach me more quickly those things you want me to learn.
3. Have me spayed or neutered.
4. Treat me kindly, my beloved friend, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for your kindness than mine. Don't be angry with me for long, and don't lock me up as punishment. After all, you have your job, your friends, your entertainment. I have only you.
5. Speak to me often. Even if I don't understand all your words, I understand your voice when it's speaking to me. Your voice is the sweetest sound I ever hear, as you must know by my enthusiastic excitement when your footsteps fall upon my waiting ear.
6. Please take me inside when it's cold and wet. I'm a domestic animal and am no longer accustomed to the bitter elements. I ask for little more than your gentle hands petting me. Keep my bowl filled with clean water; I cannot tell you when I'm thirsty. Feed me good food so that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to be by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to share with you my life, for that is what I live for. However you treat me, I'll never forget it.
7. Don't hit me. Remember, I have teeth that could easily crush the bones in you hand, but I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I am not getting the right food, I've been out in the sun too long, or my heart may be getting old and weak.
9. Take care of me when I get old. You will grow old too.
10. When I am very old, when I no longer enjoy good health, please do not make heroic efforts to keep me going. I am not having fun. Just see to it that my trusting life is taken gently. And be with me on that difficult journey when it is time to say goodbye. Never say, "I can't bear to watch". Everything is easier for me when you are there. I will leave this earth knowing with my last breath that my fate was always safest in your hands.
I love you.
A Day in the Life of a Puppy
This morning, I woke up & kissed my dad's head.
I peed on the carpet, then went back to bed.
"The life of a puppy, oh my, this is great."
Then I thought about breakfast, "I hope it's not late."
Mom took me outside, we walked for a while.
This never fails, to make Mama smile.
I sniffed of everything, that we did pass,
I ate something weird -- it gave me gas.
I'm sure God loves me, I know that is true.
He gave me so many great things to chew.
Rugs, plants or rocks, I really don't care.
What I truly like best, is Dad's underwear.
That obedience book, was sort of yummy.
Though it didn't sit well on my poor puppy tummy.
I threw up a bit, but that was all right,
When Mom found it later, I was well out of sight.
I made streamers of T.P., while running at full speed.
Mom's pretty quick -- but I was still in the lead.
I flew under the bed, and Mom flew past,
She stopped -- shook her head, and breathed, "You're too fast."
Mama later phoned Daddy, and said, "It was frightening!"
That afternoon, she was sure I'd pooped lighting.
She'd sat at the computer, while I chewed the cord,
She thought I was mad, but I was just bored.
When Mama had enough, couldn't take anymore,
That's when my tushy got shoved out the door.
I love it inside, but outside is best.
Lay in the cool grass, and had a good rest.
That didn't last long, there was too much to do-Can't quite remember
where I hid Daddy's shoe. I found an old bone, and scratched at a
flea, I watched the dumb squirrels as they jumped in a tree.
I barked at the kids, when they got off the bus.
I can't figure out why this makes Mama fuss.
I barked at the neighbor, I barked at the wind.
I barked and barked, till Mom yelled, "COME IN."
The sun dipped in the west-soon Daddy would come!
I sure love my daddy: we always have fun.
I barked at my daddy, then turned on my charms,
I woo-wooed, "Hello," then jumped in his arms.
Sitting under the table -- it's sooo hard to wait.
Daddy slipped me a goodie right off his plate.
I raced through the house, and scattered my toys,
Ricocheted off the furniture, and made lots of noise.
Mom found her purse -- the one I abused.
Daddy let loose a chuckle. Mom asked "Amused??"
I cowered down low, I must be in trouble.
Dad said, "Wasn't MY boy, it must be his double!"
Mom turned off the TV, and said, "Time for bed."
Dad said "Let's go boy," and patted my head.
I got in my spot, between Mom and Dad,
I thought 'bout my day and what fun I had.
Mama kicked out my bone from the covers below,
Then let loose a sigh -- a sigh deep and low.
She gave me a kiss, and snuggled me tight,
and whispered so softly, "My darling, goodnight."
Whos the stud??!!
You've bred a bitch, a winning thing,
and make her a champion of the ring.
She's sound, she's lovely, a joy to see.
You want to breed her carefully.
Taking lots of time, you look around.
The stud must be both typey and sound.
You study pedigrees till you're blind,
Faithfully building the litter in your mind.
Several possibilities appear,
You write to all, and wait to hear.
Some write back, "My dog's the best".
You never hear from all the rest.
You choose the one you hope is right,
Although the stud fee's out of sight.
You breed your bitch...the die is cast,
The next nine weeks don't go by fast.
Of course, the lady whelps in the middle of the night.
With luck and care, all comes out alright.
The next eight weeks you fret and strain,
Feed and scoop and try to train.
You take such care with the home they get,
This one a show dog...that one a pet.
The new owners call with problems dear,
You're on the phone for half the year.
At last, the grand moment you've longed to know
Your lady's pups have come to their first show.
They all look fine, not one a dud,
Then from behind you comes, WOW...
nice pups...who's the STUD????
Something for all of us as breeders to think about.... To be taken in good humor!
A Good Breeder's Fairy Tale
Once upon a time, four St. Bernard exhibitors were coming home from a big show. They were driving over a mountain pass in the middle of a violent snowstorm when suddenly their car went into a skid, hit a guard rail, and went careening down a slope about a mile into a ravine.The trailer which they had been pulling, containing their four dogs, landed relatively undamaged next to their car. No one had seen the accident in the blinding storm. As luck would have it the breeders were trapped inside their car.The door to the trailer, however, had popped open.
The first dog out was a very "typey" Saint, as this was what his breeder cared about the most. He made it about a quarter of a mile up the slope before he was gasping for air, and his nasal passages began to freeze because of his foreshortened muzzle. After another 200 yards he was blind and hopelessly lost because the driving snow was piling up in his haws.
The second Saint out of the trailer was bred for the "important things" like prettiness, size, color and perfect markings. He was a beautiful sight to behold, but unfortunately, he too collapsed after only a few hundred yards from the ravages of hip dysplasia.
The third dog to try to summon help had been bred for "soundness". His breeder wouldn't have dreamed of using a dog that wasn't X-rayed free of hip dysplasia. He made it halfway up the slope before he collapsed from exhaustion. He could not cope with the high drifts. His breeder hadn't realized that there was more to "soundness" than hip dysplasia and had neglected to include the head, back, shoulders, forelimbs, feet,chest, lungs, heart and hindquarters in his "breeding for soundness".
The fourth breeder was conscious by now and knew that at last all those years of breeding would pay off. He had bred for type, being careful not to shorten the muzzle so far as to obstruct the breathing or ruin the bite. He was proud of his dog's "tight eyes". His dog had "storybook markings", a "richly" colored coat, and was a very "powerful, proportionately tall, strong and muscular figure". He had an OFA number, of course, but was also big-boned, a "very strong and powerful neck" that was properly muscled; his shoulders were "well laid back". He had a "good rib spring"; he had "strong pasterns" and "strong, tight feet". He had perfect rear angulation and his hocks couldn't have been any stronger. When moving, he was absolutely flawless... With great pride and tears in his eyes, the breeder saw his big, beautiful Saint Bernard drive off into the blinding storm just like the hospice dogs of old. The last Saint made it up the slope to the road almost effortlessly. A passing state trooper saw the dog and stopped to investigate. As he got out of the car, the dog attacked and ate him.......
For they had ALL forgotten about TEMPERAMENT!!
"THE JUDGES STANDARD "
GENERAL APPEARANCE - The first impression of a good judge should be that of a tough-minded but fair,alert and gentle specimen. Muscular fitness and nimbleness are desirable but not mandatory as soft living seems unavoidable in the breed.The judge should be stamped with a look of nobility and justice -- difficult to define, but always unmistakable after the show. The good judge has a distinct personality marked by a direct and fearless - but not hostile - expression of self confidence and that certain aloofness which does not lend itself to immediate and indiscriminate friendships ... or at least does not admit to such
friendships until later back at the motel. Secondary sex characteristics should be strongly marked least, when the judge hands
you a ribbon, you say "Thank you, sir" to a lady or vice-versa. The question of monorchids or cryptorchids should be left to your florist.
COAT-In cold climates the judge should be equipped with a double coat. Underwear may vary with the season. At no time, however,
may a judge shed in the ring.
PROPORTION - The most desirable proportions for a female judge are 38-23-36; however you may settle for a 23-23-23 or,
as I have at times 22-35-48. The shape of a male judge is less important -- but great bulk and commanding appearance is greatly preferred.
PIGMENT - Let's not get into this again. ALL colours are permissible! I have not personally seen a blue judge, but there is always a first time.
SIZE - The judge should be neither too tall nor too short. As a rule of thumb, if he must sink to his knees to pat the dog, he is probably too
tall. On the other hand, if he must jump into the air to test testicles, he is probably too short. Measurements should be taken from the top of
the head, with the hair parted or pushed down so that it will show only the actual height of the judge's frame or structure. A judge of desirable
sex and proper flesh should average between 70 and 340 lbs, depending primarily upon sex and how fat he or she is.
GAIT - Judges who tend to motivate on all fours should be avoided, as should those who stagger and fall down a lot. Forward motion should be
achieved by placing one foot in front of the other...hopping is also permitted and, in fact, often makes for better showmanship.
STANCE - While viewing the dogs, the judge should stand in the centre of the ring, feet spread as at "parade rest", the right hand held firmly in
the left armpit with the left crossing over under the right armpit...the chin must be tucked solidly into the chest, eyes squinting. Once the
judge has assumed this position, the steward should count the number of times the class circles. If that count should exceed 20, he might then
unobtrusively poke the judge in the ribs. Older, more experienced judges have been known to doze off in this position while younger
specimens, particularly members of the party-going set, might be still so grassed from the pre-show festivities that they have passed out.
MINOR FAULTS - Muteness: It is preferred if a judge can speak in audible tones, but his vocabulary may be limited to phrases such as "Loose
leads!", "Walk them!", "One more time around" and the number one to three must be heard. If this is impossible, a set of flash cards
should be provided. Deafness is no fault in a judge, in fact slightly impaired hearing faculties are a distinct advantage as the judge cannot
hear the rude comments from the ringside and will be able to literally turn a deaf ear to whispered propositions, suggestions, etc., from the
BLINDNESS - It is an advantage if the judge has full use of both eyes, however, some of best-known specimens manage to get by without any
apparent eyesight at all and, as this does not seem to hinder their careers in the least, perhaps sight requirements are due to be revised
and excluded from the standard.
DISQUALIFYING FAULTS - Judges who whoop, holler and point, or who laugh hysterically at an exhibitor entering the ring with a particularly poor
specimen should be disqualified. Likewise, a judge who delays proceedings while handlers make cheques out to him in the ring is not permitted to participate further. Any judge who attacks a handler in the ring is warned three times in writing after which he must be
So far today, I've done all right. I haven't gossiped. I haven't lost my temper.
I haven't been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish, or overindulgent. I'm very thankful for that. But in a few minutes, God, I'm going to get out of bed; and from then on I'm
probably going to need a lot more help.
"Lament of a Lady who's gone to the dogs"
There was a time, there really was,
When I was sweet and tender;
When SHOW DOG meant a Disney Star,
and Bitch was not a gender.
I went to bed at half past ten;
I went to Church on Sunday;
On Saturday I baked the cakes
And did the wash on Monday.
But then I got a certain pup,
And an erstwhile friend said, "SHOW",
And so I did and so I do,
OH! What I didn't know.
I used to dress with flair and style,
That was the life, don't knock it.
But now each dress from bed to ball
Must have a good bait pocket.
I used to have a certain air,
I wallowed in nice perfume,
I used to smell of Nuit D' Amour,
Now I smell like Mr. Groom.
My furniture was haut decor,
My pets a tank of guppies.
Now I've furniture unstuffed,
And well-adjusted puppies.
Once I spoke in pristine prose,
In dulcet tones and frail,
But now I'm using language,
That would turn a sailor pale.
I was taught to be well-groomed
No matter where I went.
Now all the grooming that I do
Is in the Handler's tent.
I used to long for furs and jewels
And a figure classed as super,
Now the thing I yearn for most
Is a nice new Pooper-Scooper.
I adored a man who murmured verse
Through intimate little dinners,
But now the words I thrill to hear,
Are just three - "Best of Winners"
I rise at dawn and pack the car
The road ahead's a long one.
The one I routed on the maps
Invariably's the wrong one.
I really love this doggy life
I wouldn't care to change it.
But when I get that BEST IN SHOW.
I plan to rearrange it;
When my time on earth is done
I'll go without much nudging
Just give me three week clsoing date
and let me know who is Judging!