KESWICK: The foxhounds - seldom so-called here but more often referred to simply as “t’ dogs” - have been back in kennels for some weeks now from the farms where they have been “walked” during the summer and are getting in trim for a hard winter’s work on the fells. Many of the old hands are ready to go when the time comes; indeed one hound - Champ, who used to spend his summers near Helvellyn - did not need to be fetched, he just went on his own. He was an independent beast, anyhow, and well-known far and wide. He went for walks with visitors, until they had eaten their lunch, and robbed tents, being particularly partial to bacon and cheese, which he sometimes shared with the farm terrier. The only thing he hated was being bathed. This very seldom happened - only before show days - and once after he was bathed for Rydal show he just took off and disappeared. The old man who was to show him was most upset seeing his promised outing fading as well as his half of the winnings (if any). However, the farmer’s wife knew Champ and left a dish of bones below her bedroom window and sure enough in the dark early hours there he was, crunching away. So Champ and his friend got to Rydal after all but there was no prize that year for so bedraggled a hound. He was greeted with some surprise too by a man from the next valley, over the immense ridge of Helvellyn. “Well,” he said, “ah nivva thowt to see that beggar at Rydal today, he was walking around Patterdale yesterday afternoon.”
