CAVALIER KING CHARLES SPANIELS UK ONLINE
Long Living Cavaliers
Asmena Sun Beau Oliver (Tiger)
Oliver’s Story
Back in 1990 my one desire was a male puppy from a beautiful blenheim I had seen called Champion Alberto of Kindrum. My friend had mated her maiden bitch to him and as sometimes happens, she had missed. I was so disappointed and so when I was at a show in the summer of 91 and someone told me that a breeder there had had a litter by Alberto but unfortunately the boy in the litter had been born with only one eye, I knew he was the one for me! To make it doubly so, I had just lost a blenheim boy who had suffered with eye problems all his life. To me it was written in the stars.
Oliver’s breeder was not so sure however, she didn’t know me and I think she was so worried for him that she intended to keep him herself. It was heartbreaking for her, she too had wanted a son of Alberto and when this beautifully marked blenheim boy was born she thought she had her showboy, until he opened his eyes!
I pestered her and managed to convince her that he belonged with me and a few weeks later he was mine. That was fourteen years ago this year, he was born 17th June 1991. What a boy he turned out to be. What he missed with his sight his nose more than made up for. From the first day we took him for a walk onto the moors he became a true spaniel and flushed grouse all day long. To watch him quarter and point instinctively was a joy to behold, and luckily I caught it all on tape with my camcorder. He was always in sight of us, but would be so far ahead he was just a dot on the horizon. When he was sure there were no more grouse left that day, he would return tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and he still had enough strength to do a run and jump straight into my arms with an excited yap and a kiss.
This behaviour was his way of life whether he was flushing grouse on the moors or flushing pheasant in the woods. Many is the time he has disappeared into the forestry and I have been distraught thinking he was lost forever, I would whistle and shout and shout and whistle, but he would only ever come back when he was ready and always he came back to the spot where he had left us, it was uncanny, so I learnt to stay put when he went. I had to go along with it, as no matter how frightened of his loss as I was, I just couldn’t curtail his fun. He always came back with that tongue lolling out and a yap!
My friend’s bitch took on the return mating to Alberto, and so although I hadn’t planned to have a puppy from her after getting Oliver, Harry chose me. For some reason every time I visited her and he heard my voice he went mad and cried until I went over to the puppy pen. How can anyone not fail to be flattered but such a clever pup!! Anyway, Harry came to join us. This was when the trouble started. Oliver took Harry hunting, but Harry wasn’t the least bit interested in birds, he wanted rabbits and so would leave Oliver’s side to do his own thing. Harry however, had no sense of direction whatsoever and what a problem that caused until I decided to train him to a referees whistle, (well have you tried to whistle on a freezing cold winter’s morning). I also bought several cat bells and tied them to both their collars, so I had at least an idea where they were. It worked, we never lost either of them thank goodness and although at times I worried myself sick whilst waiting for Oliver to return and I always vowed I would never let him go again, I couldn’t do it to him – hunting was his life. Or at least I thought it was until he discovered girls – my vet had already told me that Oliver’s eye wasn’t hereditary (in fact his breeder and I believe it was caused by crop spraying, she realised to her horror she had walked Oliver’s in whelp Mum by some fields where they were spraying).
Anyway, my friend had another maiden bitch that she had travelled the length of the country on two seasons, to mate, without success. She just wouldn’t let the dogs near her, and although a sweet girl normally, she would become aggressive. My friend had called to see me to tell me that she had given up the idea of ever mating her bitch, when we suddenly heard a lot of growling and commotion from the garden and bingo, Oliver (tongue lolling) had mated her.
The litter was born on New Years Day 1993 and I kept a blenheim son, but that is another story.
Oliver has always loved the girls and was never happier than in 1999 when we took in a big blousy rescue girl who adores him. She is the love of his life and they are inseparable. He saves his tongue lolling for her these days. His nickname, because of his way with the girls is Tiger!
April 2005
Back in 1990 my one desire was a male puppy from a beautiful blenheim I had seen called Champion Alberto of Kindrum. My friend had mated her maiden bitch to him and as sometimes happens, she had missed. I was so disappointed and so when I was at a show in the summer of 91 and someone told me that a breeder there had had a litter by Alberto but unfortunately the boy in the litter had been born with only one eye, I knew he was the one for me! To make it doubly so, I had just lost a blenheim boy who had suffered with eye problems all his life. To me it was written in the stars.
Oliver’s breeder was not so sure however, she didn’t know me and I think she was so worried for him that she intended to keep him herself. It was heartbreaking for her, she too had wanted a son of Alberto and when this beautifully marked blenheim boy was born she thought she had her showboy, until he opened his eyes!
I pestered her and managed to convince her that he belonged with me and a few weeks later he was mine. That was fourteen years ago this year, he was born 17th June 1991. What a boy he turned out to be. What he missed with his sight his nose more than made up for. From the first day we took him for a walk onto the moors he became a true spaniel and flushed grouse all day long. To watch him quarter and point instinctively was a joy to behold, and luckily I caught it all on tape with my camcorder. He was always in sight of us, but would be so far ahead he was just a dot on the horizon. When he was sure there were no more grouse left that day, he would return tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and he still had enough strength to do a run and jump straight into my arms with an excited yap and a kiss.
This behaviour was his way of life whether he was flushing grouse on the moors or flushing pheasant in the woods. Many is the time he has disappeared into the forestry and I have been distraught thinking he was lost forever, I would whistle and shout and shout and whistle, but he would only ever come back when he was ready and always he came back to the spot where he had left us, it was uncanny, so I learnt to stay put when he went. I had to go along with it, as no matter how frightened of his loss as I was, I just couldn’t curtail his fun. He always came back with that tongue lolling out and a yap!
My friend’s bitch took on the return mating to Alberto, and so although I hadn’t planned to have a puppy from her after getting Oliver, Harry chose me. For some reason every time I visited her and he heard my voice he went mad and cried until I went over to the puppy pen. How can anyone not fail to be flattered but such a clever pup!! Anyway, Harry came to join us. This was when the trouble started. Oliver took Harry hunting, but Harry wasn’t the least bit interested in birds, he wanted rabbits and so would leave Oliver’s side to do his own thing. Harry however, had no sense of direction whatsoever and what a problem that caused until I decided to train him to a referees whistle, (well have you tried to whistle on a freezing cold winter’s morning). I also bought several cat bells and tied them to both their collars, so I had at least an idea where they were. It worked, we never lost either of them thank goodness and although at times I worried myself sick whilst waiting for Oliver to return and I always vowed I would never let him go again, I couldn’t do it to him – hunting was his life. Or at least I thought it was until he discovered girls – my vet had already told me that Oliver’s eye wasn’t hereditary (in fact his breeder and I believe it was caused by crop spraying, she realised to her horror she had walked Oliver’s in whelp Mum by some fields where they were spraying).
Anyway, my friend had another maiden bitch that she had travelled the length of the country on two seasons, to mate, without success. She just wouldn’t let the dogs near her, and although a sweet girl normally, she would become aggressive. My friend had called to see me to tell me that she had given up the idea of ever mating her bitch, when we suddenly heard a lot of growling and commotion from the garden and bingo, Oliver (tongue lolling) had mated her.
The litter was born on New Years Day 1993 and I kept a blenheim son, but that is another story.
Oliver has always loved the girls and was never happier than in 1999 when we took in a big blousy rescue girl who adores him. She is the love of his life and they are inseparable. He saves his tongue lolling for her these days. His nickname, because of his way with the girls is Tiger!
April 2005
Tiger
