Loo had been gone two days when a dowdy little woman came and held out a handful of small change. “A guardian and companion for my daughter–delicate, city-bred, marrying a rancher on a lonely island. She dreads the loneliness while her husband is out clearing his land.

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Loo reached me first, her motherliness, always on the alert to comfort anything, pup or human, that needed protection. I had watched someone die that night. It was the month of February and a bitter freeze-up–ground white and hard, trees brittle. The sick woman had finished with…

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Punk in his prime was siring magnificent puppies, but I had to think forward. Punk and Loo, the founders of my kennel, would one day have to be replaced by young stock. Bobbies are a long-lived breed. Kennel sires and matrons, however, must not be over old if…

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