When I first became interested they weren’t called anything but rough coated hunt terriers. I was in England in 1929 when I read of a lady in Windsor who was selling rough coated terriers for three quid a piece. I went there and picked up this creature – he was a black and tan and I called him Snuff after my father’s steeplechaser. Sylvia Warren’s Tuff would throw black and tan, though red himself. So did his son Simon. My little Snuff was a tough little customer, but when I returned home I left him with my friend Molly Barnard and he lived quite happily until he died of old age. I imported Tawny Pipit, named after an apple, and she was a lovely little thing, beautiful, marvelous color and she had three puppies. I got other bitches from England and one I bred to Tuff and got Simon. He was very good stock. I obtained Pound from Barbara Fournier and I bred Iguana, also both excellent stock and good producers. They loved the ladies. Finally, I have a stud of first quality – CH Hatchwood’s Crème de Menthe of Cracknor – the gayest rascal we have around. I have been very lucky.
Showing has never played a large part in the kennel life. I bred dogs for temperament first, hoping they would level out in form which finally came. I had few problems with whelping and much of that success was due to my kennelman, Bob Young, who died two years ago. The Norwich Terrier Club, as it was then called, was quite different. We used to hold meetings ringside at matches, but after all, there were only a few members then. Life was much less complicated, as was the business of the Club itself.
I worry about the size of the Norwich and Norfolk, always thinking about that 9-inch drain for going to ground. I am also concerned about moving, striving to have that nice reach in front that comes with good shoulders. I would like to see the breeds preserved with its original temperament, for working in the field and doing what should come so naturally.