Champion Appraxin Sensation at Timbreblue came to us in 1996 as a five-month-old ugly duckling. We bought her from Cal Perry, Appraxin Whippets in Bristol, Tennessee, possibly to show and breed, but mostly because I just wanted a whippet puppy. At that age she was all legs and didn't look like a show prospect. At all.
Frankly, I didn't care whether or not she ever had a show career. I fell in love at first sight. I'd never had a whippet with a "mask," and it gave her an intriguing, mysterious look. Her father was Ch Sporting Fields Kinsman, one of my favorite whippets, and her mother was Ch Appraxin Chadwick California Girl, a girl I had admired at dog shows on several occasions.
Ivy was very busy her first year with us. She divided her time between stealing various household items and sitting sweetly in my lap while I worked at the computer. She hid her booty under my daughter's bed, and we would regularly clean it out and return the loot to its proper place. She was an energetic, rambunctious puppy, usually in trouble. Her name expanded to Poison Ivy. She became an expert "counter surfer," but only when no one was around to catch her at it. We added Climbing Ivy to her list of names. Her favorite game with the collies was swinging from their necks by a mouthful of white ruff. Hanging Ivy.
We didn't even think again about showing her till one day when she was about 14 months old. my daughter was watching Ivy trotting across the backyard and she said, "Mom, Ivy isn't ugly any more!" So we sent off some show entries, and the next thing we knew, she had won a five-point major under a respected breeder-judge and a Best Opposite Sex over specials...pretty impressive winning for a puppy out of the 12-18 months class. (Winning a major means there were a fairly large number of whippets entered at the show, and "specials" are dogs who have already completed their AKC championships. Best Opposite Sex is essentially second place. If Best of Breed is a male, BOS is the best female, and vice versa.)
Due to other things going on in our lives, we showed her sparingly, but Ivy finished her championship easily with two more majors to become our first whippet champion. She had a businesslike approach to showing -- no playing and cutting up once the show lead went on -- but she loved the show ring and would pose for as long as anyone would watch. Ivy knew she was the best whippet at every show. If the judge didn't see it, she considered that his problem, not hers.
We tested her breed instincts. Though we never competed, she enjoyed lure coursing and racing at a practice course nearby and has a fierce prey drive. After health screening proved her sight, hearing, and heart were okay, we decided that she really did have something to add to the breed and made plans to breed her. Ivy became the foundation of our little kennel here at Timbreblue and, now spayed and retired, she remains a joy (and a challenge) to live with. She is truly the dog everyone dreams of owning -- a once in a lifetime companion.
At twelve years old, Ivy can still steal a McDonald's salad off the middle of the dining room table, carry it to the living room without spilling it, and devour the entire thing in about five minutes. Tomatoes and all. And she's still an unrepentent thief. She's my "Velcro dog," always underfoot and trotting up and down the stairs behind me, though now that she's older, she waits on the sofa for a few minutes to be sure I'm not coming right back down.
Ivy is good with the grandpuppies and great-grands, though she tolerates no nonsense. When Granny enters the room, everyone clears the way. She plays with the little ones until she decides she has had enough, and no one but no one argues with that. She serves as the Fun Police should any of the other whippets get out of control and have too good a time.
Herself sleeps in a laundry basket outside our bedroom door and no matter how many fancy beds we have offered her, she prefers that old white plastic basket from Walmart. Should she lose her covers during the night, she comes to the bedroom door and quietly woofs until I come to cover her back up. She also comes to fetch me, Lassie-style, whenever she's having a problem with one of the other dogs, she needs a walk, her water dish is empty, or the cookie jar is calling her name. I think she's been reading Walt's training books behind my back. Her methods seem to work better than mine.
