Old-fashioned Black and Tan English Shepherd Association
I grew up the son of a preacher. I can remember a time during my childhood when dad was in-between churches. During that period, we spent about eighteen months living on the northside of Memphis in a neighborhood called Frayser. Times were tight without dad working. To make some extra money for the family, we … Read more
By the time I found grandpa, I had cried myself out of tears. As I recall, I was about eight years old at the time. Ever since I could remember, our dog Old Shep had been by my side. He was my constant companion, and my keeper. But at breakfast that morning, dad told me … Read more
In the summer of my twenty-fourth year, I earned my living by working as camp tender on a Montana sheep ranch. The great western ranges, unlike other sheep countries of the time, were devoid of sheep fence. As a result, we herded sheep every day of the year except during the winter when we kept … Read more
I turned eighteen in the spring of 1968. That was a controversial time in our country’s history. But my family has a long tradition of military service, so I enlisted in the U.S. Army on the very day of my majority. I was due to ship out to basic training in early June. By late … Read more
Prince was a wiry dog who weighed a lean sixty-five pounds when wet. He was a farm shepherd, alert but non-spectacular in any noticeable way. In looks or general behavior Prince shared little in common with bench-show dogs. He had a glossy black coat, a tan spot above each eye, and a tan bar across … Read more
I grew up on a farm in Appalachia. We were a small community that was still isolated even when I was growing up in the seventies. I cannot imagine they ever used dog breeders there. At least not as we know them now. I recall so many dogs in the area that looked pretty much … Read more
Twelve years ago this past March, my husband Arlo came home with a six-week-old puppy. He had stopped off at a dairy farm in Liberty, North Carolina to make a delivery for work. There he found a litter of puppies who reminded him of the farm dogs his family had owned growing up in Tennessee. … Read more
When I was a boy, my family operated a small general store. Part of my duties was to deliver goods to nearby homesteads and settlements. By far, my favorite delivery was to Mr. Bridges’ place. The Bridges’ lived on Factor’s Fork, where the old Natchez Road crosses Shoal Creek. Mr. Bridges himself was an older … Read more
Today I live in Nashville where my eldest son is a prominent businessman. But this story begins thirty-one years ago. It was then that I married, in Jackson, Tennessee, as pretty a girl as that village had ever sheltered. She had been well brought up but had no fortune of her own to speak of. … Read more