John Taintor Foote (1881–1950)

Old dog books can be fun. This one says copyright 1917 but the copy I have was published in 1040. There is also a version of the book that has this book as well as two others of the authors books included in it.

I would like to start by reading you some from the forward, by Rex Beach, who I looked up and (September 1, 1877 – December 7, 1949) was an American novelist, playwright, and Olympic water polo player and wrote some adventure novels, influenced by Jack London, that were immensely show more popular throughout the early 1900s. Beach was lionized as the "Victor Hugo of the North," but others found his novels formulaic and predictable. Might be fun to look up some of his books, but unfortunately don’t look like ‘dog’ books. Anyway, the forward starts with:

The first time I read “Dumb-Bell of Brookfield” I laughed and I cried. The second time I read it I laughed more and I cried more. The third time – but I love dogs and I am emotional. If you are not a dog lover, do not read the book for it is an example of brief, simple, sincere writing that should bring joy to anybody, and I cherish the spiteful conviction that a person who does not love fine dogs does not deserve a fine book. He has missed so much anyhow that a little more cannot make any possible difference.

Good start, the book is funny and sad in places.

The book is pretty normal size but has the huge margins to stretch the amount of words on more pages, so a quick and fun read. It is broken down into six chapters. It starts with the death of the old champion where they set aside his chair to wait for the next one:

And so there was a chair which no one ever sat in standing in the bay window of the living-room. And it was understood that the chair would remain empty until a dog was born at Brookfield who could lie in it without shame.

What follows later is an impudent runt puppy who goes and sits on the chair. You can guess what happens to the runt eventually. But first the young dog runs off. He eventually is reunited but there is a lot more of the story leading up to the point. There is one paragraph where the N word is used to indicate they think he was raised by an African American gentleman. Other than that word used a couple of times in that paragraph I didn't see any signs of racism.

Then eventually of course the dog becomes a champion. Love how they define hunting dog champions in mythical descriptions:

‘He’s a flyin’ mchine, with a telescope nose. You got a grand dog, Mr. Gregory, a grand dog. A gamer dog never lived – he’ll try all the way; but this here dog that old fool’s go a hold of somehow aint’t human. In three hours he’ll find all the quail in the state!

"It was the nose of a champion still, and wind and dark and snow could not prevail against it – there was a grouse in the brush heap."

And later they emphasize the importance of being a champion:

The winner of the National or the All America has Champion written before his name from that day on, and never again may compete in open trials. He is a crowned king, whose sons and daughters are of the blood royal. He may not stoop to struggle with more common clay.

The author, or perhaps of course the main characters, seems to enjoy disparaging Pointers in favor of our hero the Setter. One year the Pointers seemed to be doing better at the trials:

He came home quite gloomy, though, because the pointers were winning all down the line, ‘ ‘ Ell-ooping all over the country like a lot of gray’ounds,’ is what he told me. ‘Don’t they find birds?’ I asked, and I gathered from what he said that when a pointer stumbled over a bevy, he stopped in astonishment.

There are other stories in the chapters. One where the dog trainer is getting married and some of his dogs track him down to the wedding after going through a swamp:

Down the ribboned aisle, the rubber smell discarded for the more certain scent of Peter’s footsteps, came two animated mops of dust and swamp ooze. They came swiftly, surely, and they threw themselves with abandon at Peter, who they had come so far to find.

The bride is more upset at the grooms attention to the dogs instead of her and had a perfectly reasonable reaction:

Then, for the first time in her married life, Leona addressed her husband.
“Assassin!” she gasped, and fled.

There is another story where our hero Setter Runt is about to take on a three-hour challenge match against a champion pointer but is sick:

The white ghost knew what all these horsemen meant; he knew what was expected of him that day; but he knew that is body ached, that his throat was dry, and that the rolling stubble called but faintly to him. The day before he had eaten a piece of tainted meat no bigger than a lump of sugar, and now it was better to lie quietly I the soft straw then to pit one’s speed and nose against another over those long, long miles.

Another story where someone comes to help with the lady’s orchids and winds up leaving his ugly yellow bull dog. The dog later goes on the save the lady from a bull. Be aware it that this part is pretty brutal. Here is how the visitor and the dog are described:

One day ‘ere comes a specimen up the drive – it’s a long-necked Scotchman with reddish ‘air like, ‘E ‘as a shiny black ‘amper in one ‘and an’ a bundle tied with rope in the other. At ‘is ‘eels was a yellow-‘ided butcher’s bull as big as ‘e was ugly.

Kleenex is needed at the end of the book, but the dog goes out in grand hunting dog style. Some people don’t like it when the dog dies in the end, but what scares me are the thought of thousands of dollars of vet bills. But when our hero crosses the rainbow bridge, you are told that, ‘His spirit was sweeping like the wind over Elysian Fields and flashing into point after point on celestial quail.’

Love the old books. Although not a masterpiece, where else can you find language like “‘Me an’ the mister ‘unted cock alone all the week an’ the next.” and not snigger because you know they are talking about Woodcock birds. Or use the big word in this paragraph:

One day he had hunted quail from a pink dawn to a red eye. They had taken out as a brace mate young Susan Whitestone, who was something of a flibbertigibbet. The perverse creature had insisted on flying to far dim thickets in her searchings, leaving nearer cover unexplored. It was that way with the young -success was always just over the hill. Dumb-Bell had humored the silly thing, had even been caught up by her infectious, sweeping flights He had run without restraint, without dignity, with abandon.

Hope that has given you a nice flavor for the book. Not great literature but good fun. show less

Old dog books can be fun. This one says copyright 1917 but the copy I have was published in 1040. There is also a version of the book that has this book as well as two others of the authors books included in it.

I would like to start by reading you some from the forward, by Rex Beach, who I looked up and (September 1, 1877 – December 7, 1949) was an American novelist, playwright, and Olympic water polo player and wrote some adventure novels, influenced by Jack London, that were immensely show more popular throughout the early 1900s. Beach was lionized as the "Victor Hugo of the North," but others found his novels formulaic and predictable. Might be fun to look up some of his books, but unfortunately don’t look like ‘dog’ books. Anyway, the forward starts with:

The first time I read “Dumb-Bell of Brookfield” I laughed and I cried. The second time I read it I laughed more and I cried more. The third time – but I love dogs and I am emotional. If you are not a dog lover, do not read the book for it is an example of brief, simple, sincere writing that should bring joy to anybody, and I cherish the spiteful conviction that a person who does not love fine dogs does not deserve a fine book. He has missed so much anyhow that a little more cannot make any possible difference.

Good start, the book is funny and sad in places.

The book is pretty normal size but has the huge margins to stretch the amount of words on more pages, so a quick and fun read. It is broken down into six chapters. It starts with the death of the old champion where they set aside his chair to wait for the next one:

And so there was a chair which no one ever sat in standing in the bay window of the living-room. And it was understood that the chair would remain empty until a dog was born at Brookfield who could lie in it without shame.

What follows later is an impudent runt puppy who goes and sits on the chair. You can guess what happens to the runt eventually. But first the young dog runs off. He eventually is reunited but there is a lot more of the story leading up to the point. There is one paragraph where the N word is used to indicate they think he was raised by an African American gentleman. Other than that word used a couple of times in that paragraph I didn't see any signs of racism.

Then eventually of course the dog becomes a champion. Love how they define hunting dog champions in mythical descriptions:

‘He’s a flyin’ mchine, with a telescope nose. You got a grand dog, Mr. Gregory, a grand dog. A gamer dog never lived – he’ll try all the way; but this here dog that old fool’s go a hold of somehow aint’t human. In three hours he’ll find all the quail in the state!

"It was the nose of a champion still, and wind and dark and snow could not prevail against it – there was a grouse in the brush heap."

And later they emphasize the importance of being a champion:

The winner of the National or the All America has Champion written before his name from that day on, and never again may compete in open trials. He is a crowned king, whose sons and daughters are of the blood royal. He may not stoop to struggle with more common clay.

The author, or perhaps of course the main characters, seems to enjoy disparaging Pointers in favor of our hero the Setter. One year the Pointers seemed to be doing better at the trials:

He came home quite gloomy, though, because the pointers were winning all down the line, ‘ ‘ Ell-ooping all over the country like a lot of gray’ounds,’ is what he told me. ‘Don’t they find birds?’ I asked, and I gathered from what he said that when a pointer stumbled over a bevy, he stopped in astonishment.

There are other stories in the chapters. One where the dog trainer is getting married and some of his dogs track him down to the wedding after going through a swamp:

Down the ribboned aisle, the rubber smell discarded for the more certain scent of Peter’s footsteps, came two animated mops of dust and swamp ooze. They came swiftly, surely, and they threw themselves with abandon at Peter, who they had come so far to find.

The bride is more upset at the grooms attention to the dogs instead of her and had a perfectly reasonable reaction:

Then, for the first time in her married life, Leona addressed her husband.
“Assassin!” she gasped, and fled.

There is another story where our hero Setter Runt is about to take on a three-hour challenge match against a champion pointer but is sick:

The white ghost knew what all these horsemen meant; he knew what was expected of him that day; but he knew that is body ached, that his throat was dry, and that the rolling stubble called but faintly to him. The day before he had eaten a piece of tainted meat no bigger than a lump of sugar, and now it was better to lie quietly I the soft straw then to pit one’s speed and nose against another over those long, long miles.

Another story where someone comes to help with the lady’s orchids and winds up leaving his ugly yellow bull dog. The dog later goes on the save the lady from a bull. Be aware it that this part is pretty brutal. Here is how the visitor and the dog are described:

One day ‘ere comes a specimen up the drive – it’s a long-necked Scotchman with reddish ‘air like, ‘E ‘as a shiny black ‘amper in one ‘and an’ a bundle tied with rope in the other. At ‘is ‘eels was a yellow-‘ided butcher’s bull as big as ‘e was ugly.

Kleenex is needed at the end of the book, but the dog goes out in grand hunting dog style. Some people don’t like it when the dog dies in the end, but what scares me are the thought of thousands of dollars of vet bills. But when our hero crosses the rainbow bridge, you are told that, ‘His spirit was sweeping like the wind over Elysian Fields and flashing into point after point on celestial quail.’

Love the old books. Although not a masterpiece, where else can you find language like “‘Me an’ the mister ‘unted cock alone all the week an’ the next.” and not snigger because you know they are talking about Woodcock birds. Or use the big word in this paragraph:

One day he had hunted quail from a pink dawn to a red eye. They had taken out as a brace mate young Susan Whitestone, who was something of a flibbertigibbet. The perverse creature had insisted on flying to far dim thickets in her searchings, leaving nearer cover unexplored. It was that way with the young -success was always just over the hill. Dumb-Bell had humored the silly thing, had even been caught up by her infectious, sweeping flights He had run without restraint, without dignity, with abandon.

Hope that has given you a nice flavor for the book. Not great literature but good fun. show less

94 minutos