The Show Ring, Dog Breeds and Dingoes

[In 1870] Sydney “show” breeders were, for the first time, able to acquire Hall’s Heelers. Although  these dogs were deemed the perfect cattle dog by stockmen and drovers in the “bush”, the Sydney “show” breeders felt the need to “improve” them. After some weird and wonderful experimental breedings, and by their own admissions, the city breeders dogs “lost a lot of working ability”.

Bert Howard, Australian Cattle Dog Historian

The Walters were one of the few cattle dog breeders whose dogs were both excellent working dogs and excelled in the show ring.

While Berenice was involved with the show dog world she saw first hand how the conformity of dogs changed from at the whim of breeders.

It was the reason she never wanted to see the Dingo in the show ring.  

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From Cattle Dog Kennels to Dingo Enclosures

Wooleston, Berenice and Bern Walters Cattle Dog kennels was the most famous in Australia but Berenice’s love for dingoes saw their property transformed over 40 years.

Wooleston Australian Cattle Dog Kennel

The kennels in the early days of the dingoes

Over the years Berenice and an enthusiastic team of volunteers gradually transformed the property into a haven of native plants. The sanctuary won many awards in the loval garden competition.

 The runs are now more suitable for dingoes. They are larger runs with dingo proof fencing. 

Names of the dingoes and their sponsors are shown for the information of visitors

A new entrance is built

By 1998 the grounds were relaxing and peaceful. Although Berenice was suffering the later stages of Motor Neurone Disease she delighted in the spending time in the gardens with the dingoes she loved.

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A Dingo’s View of City Life

Adapted from a Merigal magazine article from 1980

Like many of my kind I was born a Dingo, brought to the city for many reasons some for zoos, sometimes just to make a quick buck, and many other reasons which we won’t go into. My boss got me when I was six months old and I was told I had to forget my wayward past and learn obedience and discipline to receive the 'order of freedom' from the Government.

So my first real test was four weeks holiday in a place called Gladstone, some 940 miles away. I was told to get into the back seat of the car, which I did without question; my first lesson. I managed to stick it out till we got to Tamworth, our first fill up for petrol. Tamworth is a place I want to forget as for the first time I found my true identity. 

While lying asleep I heard the garage chaps voice sing out, "Christ, look at this, a bloody Dingo”.

Funny how travel teaches one many things, including ‘identity’. We made Gladstone in 32 hours, a day before we were expected and had to stay over-night in a Flag Motel where I learned my second lesson. Being a Bloody Dingo, I cased the place in no time - lovely view, TV, toilet, air conditioning, carpets on the floor. One thing, only 2 beds. One for master and one for son, John. This was a bit hard to take. Where do I go?

“The balcony is your spot”, I was told. “Lovely breeze off the harbour”. What a Dingo in training has to put up with; hope; I can finish the course. Being me, I looked over my balcony and to my horror saw three domestic dogs eating out of a dirt tin; disgusting, why can’t they learn to do a course like me, tough as it is.

It upset me so much I couldn’t sleep out there thinking of those poor animals, so I went inside and slept on the carpet. Next morning, I was awakened by a knock on the door. Can’t a poor animal get ANY sleep? Little did I know we have room service - eggs, bacon, toast, tea, weet bix, and pineapple juice. Boy, I'll be in this, I thought to myself, only to find out mine consisted of weet bix and milk, two rounds of toast and the left overs. This course is tougher than I thought.

10 am we left for our final destination, a house five minutes from the bitch. I pricked up my ears and thought, this is where my training goes by the board, only to find out it wasn’t a female dingo (bitch), but a beach! What a let down.

The following day I was taken to the beach; while my master and son swam, I had a good look around to see if there were any of my nob around. No such luck, only mongrel dogs all having a good time, so it wasn’t long before I found a few mates. So, a little bit of good advice to Dingoes; if you want to enjoy yourselves, learn mix even if it means coming down a peg socially. I am grateful I have been taught properly and learned to mix as my daily routine was up at 8am, swim and run the length of the beach, home for breakfast, then to bed - and I must have my pillow. Life wasn't meant to be easy but being me, I accept the good with the bad.

I often think of those poor domestic dogs roaming the streets and finishing up in a dogs’ home. I've decided to stick by my Boss. I've got a beautiful yard, and the best of everything. I will keep in touch with my fellow dingoes and relate from time to time how I get on, and pass on hints to future owners of how a bloody Dingo should be trained.

PS I goofed my first day back from Gladstone as I got in next door and killed two guinea pigs. Is this what is meant by you can't make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear? Lucky for me my boss doesn’t expect the impossible. But one thing I have learned he loves me, and I love him.

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