The Daily Alaska Empire

Here's Flor nell Spicy Bit of Halleston, grand champion of the Westminster Kennel Club show in New York. His Royal Doggishness, a wire-haired fox terrier born not quite three years ago in Yorkshire, belongs to Stanley J. Halle of Chappaqua, N. Y.

By FLOR NELL SPICY BIT OF HALLSTON

(Interpreted by JOHN SELBY)

NEW YORK, March 6.—They tell me that I am the most important canine in America, because I was grand champion at the recent Westminster Kennel club show in Madison Square Garden. But I feel just as I did before. Now I am taking my pen in paw to tell my public what I know of me, because I am so important.

I am a wire-haired fox terrier bitch. My name is Flor nell Spicy Bit of Halleston. I was born two years and eight months ago in a place called Stourbridge in Yorkshire and led a happy home life with my mother and assorted brothers and sisters for a while. I don't remember how many brothers and sisters there were, but my mother was Wollescote Colleen, and one of her ancestors was Talavera Simon.

Never Saw My Father

She told me my father (whom I never saw because I am posthumous, in the dog sense) was Beau Brummel of Wildoaks, a very traveled dog, because he went from England to America and back again. Among his ancestors were Signal Warily and Signal Circuit, both famous. I am told we are a well bred family.

I was quite young when I was sold by my foster father, a man named Trowell. This man named me Salad Bowl, which I didn't care about, but had to put up with. When I began living the life of a good dog, which entails a good deal of grooming, very regular diet, regular periods of exercise and very little home life.

Winning My Number

Then (I'm sure he had no idea what a good animal I am) Mr. Trowell sold me to one Mr. James Parkington, who owns the Flor nell Kennels in Blackburn, which is Lancashire and very pretty and green. I was registered with the English Kennel Club, after winning a few small shows. That gives me a number—very much coveted in England.

But Mr. Parkington is a business man and has a relative in the States whose name is Percy Roberts. And this man, so he told me later, goes to England regularly to buy dogs. He took one look at me and bought me on the spot.

So Then To America

And Mr. Roberts after gathering together 10 more dogs, several of whom I detested, put me on the top shelf of a large contraption called a liner and brought me to America. That was in December, I think.

And then (I'm really very popular) a man called a stock broker, named Stanley J. Halle, bought me. He likes dogs and has a kennel in Chappaqua, N. Y., wherever that is. I'm still with Mr. Roberts at Noroton, Conn., because Mr. Roberts plans to exhibit me in numerous places—Boston for one and Buffalo for another.

Shows Don't Worry Me

I still live a regular life and have a charming place to exercise in. At the Westminster show I seemed to be unusual; shows don't worry me, and, although the other 2,400 dogs kept yapping their opinions of one another I simply lay down and slept. So when Mr. Roberts came to take me to the ring I was chipper no end.

I didn't mind anything but the finals. There were six of us, and the judge wanted to see me next to a large, hairy creature Mr. Roberts called a sheepdog. Next to him was another person with curly hair shaved off in the oddest places.

Well, I took one look at the hair and sort of backed in. Thank Heaven they pluck my hair off. Such creatures!