Is a Scottie for me?

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Before you decide that a Scottie is the dog for you, please take the time to find out more about the breed.

The Scottish Terrier is a sporting dog; he is a terrier through and through. As the Breed Standard says “A Scottish Terrier is a sturdy, thick-set dog of suitable size to go to ground, placed on short legs, alert in carriage and suggestive of real power and activity in a small compass….. with keen intelligent eyes and sharp prick ears the dog looks willing to go anywhere and do anything.” He is has all the traits of a large dog in a small compass.

He has so many different characteristics, he is loving, yet can be aloof, wise with a strong sense of understanding in all that goes on around him. He is not a yappy dog, only barking when it is necessary, he can also be very obstinate, with a mind of his own, but most of all he is a faithful and loyal companion to those he cares for.

The Scottish Terrier coat grows thick and profuse and requires regular grooming. His coat should be trimmed at least every two months to keep him in the correct shape and brushed twice a week to keep his coat free from knots and tangles.

Always buy your puppy from a reputable Breeder. Details of litters currently available can be found on the puppy list. This is a good place to start your search for a puppy. Please be careful of newspaper adverts – although many are OK, some are puppy farmers who care little about the health of their litters.

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Two articles written by Bob Cooke (Committee member of NESTC)

In appreciation of a First Scottie
First published in Scottish Terrier Club  (England) 1987 Year Book

One reads of someone gambling their last pound and becoming a millionaire.  When you are young you sometimes do silly things and get away with them.  As a young couple my wife and I fell into both these categories when we spent our last few pounds on a Scottie dog puppy.  It was a silly thing to do, but we were to be rewarded many times over, just like the gambler who comes up trumps.

We had had many discussions about a name for our pet, but when we collected him he was already known as Hamish and the name stuck. He spent his first car journey home sleeping on the rear window ledge apparently quite content and quickly showed what he thought of us be going to sleep on our feet in the house at every opportunity, thus rendering us incapable of moving away without feelings of guilt for disturbing him.

Knowing nothing about Scotties, we entered him for a show but his slightly bowed front and cow-hocked rear did not endear him to the judge and thereafter his outstanding feature – his character – was what mattered.

Hamish could be infuriating.  He was an escapologist of the highest calibre.  Colditz would not have held him and a two-inch gap in the door or gate would lead to the cry of “Hamish is out”, resulting in a mad chase up and down the road until he decided that the joke was over and allowed someone to catch him.  He could be annoying at night when he went out to do the necessary and then refused to come in again, particularly if it happened to be pouring with rain or snowing – weather in which he revelled.  I have not even mentioned the time as a young puppy when he chewed the back off Granddad’s best shoes!

Yet Hamish was so affectionate and trustworthy.  Each of our four children could be safely left on the floor to play with him from the earliest age.  Indeed our eldest son was left with him for just two or three minutes on one occasion and that was long enough for them to curl up and go to sleep together on the hearth rug.  The same pair were responsible for the transformation of Hamish into a Westie when a carton of talcum powder was left within reach!  To each of the boys Hamish at various times represented a horse to be ridden, a wild animal to be chased or a target for water-filled Squeezy bottles, yet to him all these things were merely part of the fun of life and the boys were indeed fortunate to grow up with such a pet.

An enquiring mind was certainly part of Hamish’s character.  He would investigate other dogs as long as they were twice his size) and even set out to see how far he could swim across Coniston Water before he found the challenge boring enough to come back.  The sound of the front door opening meant a welcoming bark and the trotting of paws to see if the arrival was of possible interest to him.  The jingle of his lead, however far away, brought a black streak round the corner for walkies, as did the sound of a can opener or rattle of dinner plates, Hamish could not really be described as inquisitive where food was concerned, his one aim was to remove it as quickly as possible.  There were never any scraps in our house when the “Four-legged Dustbin” was around.

Anyone accepted by us was accepted by Hamish. This even applied to a very strange new arrival. The word ‘cats’ was enough to send him flying into the garden (and he really did take off from the end of the path on to the lawn), but when he was about nine years old we bought a kitten. It took us two weeks of restraint and forceful reminders to convince Hamish that this creature was here to stay, but once he accepted that, it was not unusual for the two of them to curl up together and share the same bed.

One day Hamish and the cat were in the garden together when the passing of another dog outside set his hackles rising. Being unable to investigate the other dog because of the garden wall, Hamish turned and the word ‘cats’ could be seen flashing across his brain. He charged like a wild bull but just a couple of feet from the quarry he remembered that this animal was different, this was HIS cat. Unable to stop his high speed travel he took off, cleared his startled friend by about a foot and landed in the flower bed beyond.

Yes, Hamish gave us affection, laughs, loyalty and many happy hours. As he grew older his front became more bowed and his cow-hocked rear became more pronounced and eventually seemed to almost inadequate for the purpose of carrying him.  Then suddenly there was evidence of the onset of kidney failure and he began to be uncomfortable as he tried to lie down and rest. The only kind action was to pay a final sad visit to the vet.

Hamish was over twelve years of age. He might not have exactly match the standard for the show ring, but he lacked little else. It’s all his fault really, the fact that we are ‘into’ the breed and have learnt much about Scotties. We can only hope that those who follow him will give as much pleasure as we have had in the last twelve years. They will have to work hard to match out first Scottie, our Hamish.
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Our Bruce – 26.07.88 to 6.08.99
A doggy biography (First published in Scottish Terrier Club (England Year Book)

We first saw Bruce when he was about two weeks old, in company with his mother (Killisport Mixed Spice) and his two litter brothers. I very much liked his grandfather Archie (Killisport Town and Country) and we had often met his father Sam (Kentwella Chevalier) in the ring, so the chance of a puppy from these ancestors was too good to miss.

After our first sight of the litter our as-yet-unselected puppy it was give a code by my wife Christine, who labelled him ‘BT’ this had nothing to do with telecommunications, but rather was short for ‘brown thing’, the colour of his coat still being very dark at this stage.

A month or so after our first sight we returned to make our selection. We sat in the September sunshine and watched the three pups playing for some three hours before we finally made our decision and no-one can know how many times each of the pups was selected before Bruce finally became our ‘BT’.

The public face of Bruce was most widely known in the show ring, although this part of his life was only a fraction of the total. He was a joy to take in the ring, having a natural desire to show off; the bigger the ring and the larger the crowd the better. He first made a mark at just over six months of age in a terrier club show where all terrier breeds were scheduled, by doing the ‘treble’ of Best Puppy in Breed, Best of Breed and Best Puppy in Show. If that wasn’t enough he repeated this in similar circumstances before his puppy days were over.

At Championship level he received his Stud Book number from his breeder Elizabeth Blower, something of which of course could not happen now, but anyone putting this down to favouritism quickly had that idea squashed just a few weeks later when Mary Sheppard placed him first in Junior Dog at Crufts. He went on to be a proud representative of the breed, frequently winning Best of Breed and Best Terrier at Open Shows as well as Best in Show and Reserve Best in Show accolades.  His beautiful golden coat would glint in the sunshine and automatically draw the eye of anyone watching. The puppy ‘BT’ and the finished article were akin to the duckling and the swan.

As previously stated, Bruce’s show life was but a tiny part of the whole, so what of the rest? The people who wrote in the standard that a Scottish Terrier must be prepared to go anywhere and do anything must have had Bruce in mind.

He was an excellent traveller; indeed he loved going anywhere as long as he was with you. On one occasion he was entered at Birmingham Champ.Show when we discovered that our eldest son needed to be in Cambridge the same day. No problem, I drove the 240 miles to Cambridge, back to Birmingham for Bruce to show really well and be placed second in a large Limit class, back to Cambridge to collect our son and then home. A round trip of 700 miles and he loved it! He would often work his way through from the back seat of the car to sit on the front passenger seat, where he would survey the passing world until boredom set in and a lie down was called for. He was rather upset when we changed the saloon car for an estate car and put a dog guard behind the rear passenger seat. No matter, a Scottie nose can slip between the window and the bars and slide them across, giving access to the proper part of the car!

Go anywhere! Bruce was never happier than running free in the countryside or high on the fells. He did not need a lead and romped joyfully around, frequently accompanied by our Staffordshire Bull Terrier, Sophie, eighteen months his senior and the matriarch of our canine clan. They were of similar calm and reliable temperament and complemented each other perfectly. When running free they were never far apart and were a joy to watch as they explored their own areas of interest in the hedges and fields before joining up together again for a while.

At weekends the two dogs used to go with me to cricket. They were well known in the local league and they would settle down comfortably in a cool spot while I was fielding. Often members of other players’ families would take them for walks round the ground and even opposing players did the same while waiting their turn to bat. They were even known at County matches and the month before Bruce died I was at the Lancashire vs Glamorgan match it was too hot for the comfort of the dogs, so they were left at home.  I was greeted several times with the question, “So where are the dogs”, and that was in a crowd of several thousand!

Go anywhere!  Bruce even tried his hand or rather paw, at mini-agility, not seriously but in a recreational mode. Somewhere there is a photo of him trotting gaily along a plank about six feet off the ground, but his exploits in the tunnel were less successful because he believed that it was a game to hide and seek and as soon as I went to the far end he would turn round and go out the same way he had gone in.

Go anywhere! When Christine was taken seriously ill Bruce began to go to school with me, spending the day sitting happily in my office and wandering the classrooms when the children had gone home. Staff and governors became used to the extra ‘member of staff’ being there and he became well known to the children.  The older children were allocated lunchtime telephone duty in the office and it became the first question from each child on the day’s rota to ask “Is Bruce in?”  One boy was so attached to him that he persuaded his parents to buy him a Scottie! While Bruce was attending school the number of meetings demanded of headteachers mushroomed greatly and he found himself attending meetings with me in County Hall, in the District Education Office, in other schools and even in hotel conference suites! He might have become the most educated dog in Lancashire but for the fact that he had one advantage over me – an advantage of which he made the most use – he could curl up and go to sleep while all the nonsense was being dissipated!

Bruce’s temperament has been alluded to previously. He was indeed a calm dog, a fact commented on each time he saw a vet. He was never heard to growl at someone who he perceived as trying to help him and after the last operation he had (to remove a small growth at the end of his muzzle) the vet did not even put a collar on because she knew he would not scratch at the stitches.  I have also mentioned his relationship with Sophie, but just as notable is the fact that even Toby, our Russian Blue champion cat would rub against him and treat him as a friend.

Without being aware of it, Bruce was involved in some humorous situations. Two spring immediately to mind. At a show without Scottie classes but with a terrier judge, Bruce won the A.V. Terrier Open class, beating a fox terrier into 2nd place. After the class the owner of the fox terrier challenged the judge. The conversation went something like this: Exhibitor: “What do you think you’re doing?” Judge: “What do you mean?” Exhibitor: “What are you doing placing that dog (Bruce) before mine?” Judge: “I happen to consider him the best dog in the class”. Exhibitor: “Rubbish! What’s it supposed to be, a Scottie? It’s not even black!”

Another occasion I recall was at the point of selection of Best in Show at an Open show. As we went into the ring Christine surveyed the winning dogs and said to me “If Bruce wins Best in Show from them I’ll eat my catalogue.” Oh ye of little faith. She still hasn’t told me what a catalogue tastes like.

Another amusing incident occurred at the Club Championship Show at Towcester. Bruce was entered and for a day out I also took Cleo (Krystalbrook Sweet Pickle) one of our top winning French Bulldogs. As Bruce and Cleo walked around the car park together Carol Annan passed by. She stared at the odd couple and made a single statement “Overtrimmed”. We still do not know to which dog she was referring.

It was a mark of Bruce’s appeal, that when I retired my staff presented me with a cake on which sat a map, a pair of boots and a marzipan Scottie. They also gave me a framed poem in which Bruce was mentioned by name and which has caricatures of him, one of which shows him sticking his head above a rock with a rucksack on his back.

Some of our last photos of Bruce show him with our current little girl Katie (Katie Birnie of Krystalbrook). They show how he could relate to her as well as so many others. He certainly related to all the people he met and it is a mark of this side of his character that when the time finally came for his to head for the great kennel in the sky we even received a letter of condolence from one of our senior vets. Thank you Bruce, for eleven great years. Rest happily.