The Garden was just ordinary–common flowers, everyday shrubs, apple-trees. Like a turbulent river the Bobtails raced among gay flowers and comfortable shrubs on their way from sleeping-pen to play-field, a surge of grey movement weaving beautiful patterns among poppy, rose, delphinium, whose flowers showed more brilliantly colourful for the…

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In the early morning the dogs burst from their sleeping quarters to bunch by the garden gate, panting for a race across Beacon Hill Park. Springs that had wound themselves tighter and tighter in their bodies all night would loose with a whirr on the opening of the garden…

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 Loo’s strong,beautiful pups found a ready market. A soldier in Victoria owned a fine Old English Bobtail Sheepdog. When he went to the war his Bobtail was desolate. I heard of the dog and went to the soldier’s house, saw the shaggy huddle of misery watching the street corner around…

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