You don’t see so many Old English Sheepdogs around these days but in the 1960s through to the 1980s they were very popular what with the Dulux advert and Boot in the Daily Mirror cartoon this was at a time when their tales were allowed to be docked which the vets decided was not good for their health but it made them look chunky and attractive. In our midlife family period we had five – not all at the same time of course – we called them: Mumps, Measles, Bunkles, Pimples and Bumps. (We also had a cat called: Shingles) They somewhat restrained our life style though as we didn’t like putting them in kennels and so chose cottage holidays where we could take them with us so missing out somewhat on foreign travel but they were worth it.
I’ll feature on our third dog ‘Bunkles’ he was the biggest of the five.
The first time that we saw him he was standing in the middle of a Carlisle farmhouse – a tiny figure with bright blue eyes. ‘He’s the first out of the basket,’ said Mrs McCollum, his breeder. Behind him could be seen his less adventurous siblings heaving about in the basket. We called him ‘Bunkles’ but invariable it was shortened to ‘Bunks’: he was a dog and a half. As he grew we tried to keep him in the back of the estate car but as Paul, our son’ once remarked: ‘If he decides to climb over the seat – he’s unstoppable.’ When we were forced into an even smaller car: Volkswagen Polo, the four of us plus Bunkles and our other sheepdog bitch: Measles, the availability of space became acute. I recall the incredulous look on the faces of a couple on a seat when we all squeezed out of the Polo at a picnic spot.
They liked to sit on your knee but they were a bit too large for that
Bunkles spanned the life of two of our ‘girl dogs’ Measles was here when he came and pimples when went. Dogs tend to have an effect on each other for good or bad. All three were great dogs, If you have a well-behaved dog and you bring along a pup half way along its life, chances are you’ll get another good well behaved dog. That’s the way we found it anyway. Measles took her cue from Mumps, Bunkles from Measles and Pimples from Bunkles. Last of all we had Bumps – he was a lovely dog too but he always had hip problems that curtailed his walking capabilities.
It is one of the sadder facts of life that man outlives many dogs in a lifetime, but you don’t replace a dog, you bring another into your life along with its own unique character and most like they will give you great pleasure: you’re never in the ‘doghouse’ with your dog. Measles was a sheepdog in the truest sense, if we were walking in crowds she didn’t like the party to become dispersed into dribs and drabs. If this happened, she would run around barking and trying to round you up into a tight group again as if you were sheep. Mumps loved to play with the football, when we were kicking in before a match he would run onto the field and steal the ball; he could get a full sized football into his mouth and carry it about with us chasing after him. He loved walks but hated thunder and the smell of alcohol. He invariable had diarrhoea the smell of which we tried to mask with perfume; I recall it was Esther Lauder perfume so that the conflicting smells of diarrhoea and Esther Lauder have become ever associated together in the household. One day when we visited a cousin in Bingley she has baked us a dinner plate size apple pie on the way home someone said Mumps is quiet and we looked Mumps wasa licking his lips having devoured the full pie. Measles was relatively timid, Bunks boisterous and Pimples mischievous; she would run after other dogs barking away, if they turned and chased her she would run and hide behind Bunkles and let him sort the matter out.
at the sea side
The occasion I remember best on this score, however, concerned Measles and Bunks who was about a year old at the time and on top of his form. We had been walking in heavy brush on Becket’s Park – Measles and I emerged from the cover on top of a hill with Bunkles lagging some way behind. Upon seeing Measles a pack of four retrievers charged up the hill in line, apparently baying for her blood. Poor old Measles was petrified; she just stood there trembling to await her fate. The lead dog was almost upon her when Bunks burst out of the brush a huge figure in his elevated position and looking for all the world like Superman, stripped of to the ‘S’. The lead dog immediately applied the brakes and just like a Disney film the other three slammed into his backside – piling up all over each other before turning tail and baying and yelping back down the hill at an even faster pace than they had arrived. Bunks didn’t even turn a hair. On another occasion he happened to be sniffing an electric fence and it gave him a jolt and he looked at us with a hurt expression as if it were something we had done to him that the thought he didn’t deserve.
There is evidently something about Old English sheepdogs, which, seems to make horses nervous. One particular time when this happened and nearly had disastrous results occurred when we having a footpath walk on the outskirts of Bradford. When horses were around we always made sure the dogs were kept on a lead – not that the dogs themselves would attack the horse but rather that the horse itself read more into the sight of them than was really there and it seemed to spook them. On the particular day in question I heard a horse approaching from behind and put Bunks on a lead, the rider touched his cap in thanks and rode past at a walk. All seemed well, although I could see the horse was eyeing Bunks up sideways, he was obviously quite nervous. Anyway we walked on and as the path was clear ahead we let the dog off the lead again and he wandered about twenty of thirty yards ahead. Without warning the rider came thundering back from the other direction, galloping to an extent that Roy Rogers would have been proud, unfortunately, it left us with no chance to grab the dog before the horse got to him. The horse met the dog, which stood his ground in the middle of the path and the horse didn’t like it. In fact he didn’t like it so much he bucked and dispatched his rider in two somersaults over his head and into the wood before setting off at a lick on his own, not to be seen again.
‘Are you alright?’ I asked the rider who was trying to extract himself from the brambles.
‘I am but I’m not well pleased,’ he said limping off in the direction that the horse had disappeared.
I got the impression that he thought the dog was to blame, which was hardly the case but we beat a hasty retreat anyway in case litigation came up.
Bunks was a gentle giant who’s back stood as high as the table: he feared naught and could walk a good twelve miles in his prime, yet was gentle enough for the cat to come and lay between his giant paws or soft enough to fall asleep playing with the ruche from the cushion making.
One last memory: the three of us: Bunks, Pimples and I once attempted to climb a dust covered mound, which eventually proved far too steep for me to climb. I began to slip back down and Bunks who had been further up than I came steaming back down on his belly with his legs spread-eagled and nose ploughing up the dust. Pimples who had hardly dared make a start on the hill became so excited by it all she bit his nose as he as he flashed by – to add to the spectacle.
Those are just a few choice memories out of years with true friends. We couldn’t manage them now – wouldn’t be able to lift them over stiles they’re in the garden now, close to where you would sit on a nice summer’s day, but I’ll not dwell on the sadness of their parting but rather them in their prime when as Paul quite rightly said of Bunkles ‘He was unstoppable.’
East Leeds Memories 