How much is that Doggie in the window?

I’ve managed to buy another copy to add to my growing collection of Observers’ Books of Dogs. I now have copies from 1987, 1979, 1973, 1967 and 1964. I’m not sure how many editions there were in all, but it was first published in 1945. I’ve been having a look on the net and the ones from 1957 seem to be going for about £20. Blimey! I’m not going to pay that much – I’m sure if I look around I’ll eventually get them all, and at a more reasonable price.

The older editions are fascinating, showing how the breeds have altered over the years. The main differences seem to be purely cosmetic, with coats being much more profuse and glamorous; however they aren’t necessarily practical for the breeds’ original purpose. Bearded Collies, for example, now have long, straight coats which often have a parting down the centre of the back, which would be disastrous for a decent working dog. Rather than being weatherproof, any rain will get straight to the skin – a stormy day’s work rounding up sheep in the hill country where the breed was developed would leave a dog seriously chilled and not able to do its job properly. Some of the breeds in the earlier editions seem to have disappeared entirely, while other varieties, rare at the time, are now quite commonplace.

The later editions are re-written/edited by Catherine Sutton, but the earlier ones were the work of Clifford (known as ‘Doggie’) Hubbard, who I had the pleasure of meeting on his bookstall at the Championship shows. And it was indeed a pleasure to talk to him – he was a delightful man with a shock of white hair and an enormous stock of anecdotes; I once nearly missed my class listening to him recounting how as a boy he did a ‘Dick Whittington’ and walked from his home in Bath (though he was born in Wales) to London to look for work, sleeping in haystacks (and once on top of the ovens in a bakery – cosy!) as he had no money to spare for accommodation. The show scene lost one of its most knowledgeable and more colourful characters when he died.

Oh, and Happy Birthday, Boy! Crikey, that's come around quickly.