Sharon Fleming reminded me of these wee " Tales " in one of her posts. They demonstrate wee Wookey at her best or worst depending on your point of view. She ruled our house of Pulis with a rod of iron through the sheer force of her personality. When Wookey walked into a room , it was like John Wayne entering an Old West saloon. The other Pulis would shift position until she had settled. Boss Bitch, she would suffer no fools no matter what size or breed.
Any new puppy arriving at Rockisland was taken out to the back garden and subjected to a Wookey demonstration of her dominance. Putting the puppy on it's back she would proceed to roll it around the back lawn talking to it all the time " Whooaarghneaghaaaaweeg " non stop, until the pup was under no illusion as to who was boss.
Any attempt by any dog to invade her personal space was dealt with immediately. She demonstrated this at a show down south , where for some reason that escapes me I was walking her into the show ground. Normally The Pulis were trolleyed in with me acting as the mule train.
As we reached the entrance there was a small queue, so we stopped and a guy following behind with his Rottweiler dog allowed it to approach Wookey's rear end and take a deep sniff.
This dog's best friends and advisors would have shaken their heads at this action. Exploding like a depth bomb wee Wookey rose some six inches in the air and with cords flying twirled like a ballerina. There was a clomping noise as her jaws closed an eighth of an inch from the Rotties' nose, she then completed her turn and stood innocently gazing around as if nothing had happened.
I looked down at the Rottie who stood, eyes bulging with shock. I then looked at the dog's owner and said,
" Please stop your Rottweiler annoying my Puli. He may come to some harm ".
We then made our way into the show ground led by the Wooks who appeared to have a smug look on her face.
Her next performance of " We are the Puli People we rule the world " occurred at Leeds championship show in the north of England and this is the occasion wee Sharon reminded me of.
We had finished showing, so as Liz stayed at the ringside chatting to friends, I started to haul the dogs back to the benches.
The trolley was weighed down with three crates, two Pulis and an empty crate loaded with show bags and other detritus required for showing. This meant I had Wookey on her lead.
As we neared the benching tent I looked up and saw that the walkway was blocked by a heaving mass of Dobermans with their handlers. Before I could open my mouth and ask them to let me through, Wookey took control.
Going into her depth bomb routine again accompanied by sharp barking, she caused the Dobes to shy like startled debutantes resulting in total confusion among their handlers. And Lo ( with apologies to any biblical scholars ) The Doberman Sea parted. Wee Wookey gave a regal nod to each group and then led me through the chaos.
James
