wee Roddy

RODDY CLAYHALL BENDETH AUGUST 22, 1991 - MARCH 15, 2008

Today my darling boy had to go home to heaven. His sweet life touched so many people over the years. He would lick children in wheelchairs, never start a fight, always be the quiet sweet little soul who never begged but just loved to be near

Please say a prayer for my dear Roddy's little soul
Marian
Hello lads and lassies! Ma name is Roddy (named after Rod Stewart) cause aye ave some wee hot legs and I love life, have an eight-year old Westie bitch as my g/f (not bad for an old guy)! and live the life of a top dog!

As ya can see in ma video, I can still run at sixteen years of age, mind yu, ma eyesight is not too great but there's some life still in ma!

Ode To A Westie

W  for White as he should be

E   for Eagerness all must see

S   for Sight keen the quarry to spy

T   for Terrier spirit and never say die

H   for the Happiness they always bring

I   for Inquisitive--doing their own thing

G   for Good measure in such a small frame

H   for Hi there, how about a game?

L   for their Laughter and love in their hearts

A   for Amenable right from the start

N   for Not minding if Mum should look stern

D   for Delight upon her return

W  for Welcome, so warm ans so nice

H   for Hunting and catching those mice

I    for Intelligence--more than most

T   for Top Dog--no idle boast

E  for Evermore Westies--our toast!

Anonymous.

From Westie News, Vol. 2, No. 3

West Highland White Terrier Club of England

The Terrier From The North

Losh' Bogie man haud off your han';

Nor thrash me black and blue,

Frae fools and foes I seek nae praise,

But frien's should aye be true.

Nae silky-haired admirer I

O'Bradford Toys, Strathbogie;

Sich thoughts, I'm sure cam' in your head,

While dribblin' o'er the cogie.

I ken the Terrier o'the North,

I ken the towsy tyke --

Ye'll search frae Tweed to Sussex' shore,

But never find his like.

For pluck and pith and jaws and teeth

And hair like heather cowes,

Wi' body lang and low and strang,

At hame in cairns or knowes.

He'll face a foumart, draw a brock,v
Kill rats and whitteritts by the score,

He'll bang tod-Lowrie frae his hole,

Or slay him at his door.

He'll range for days and ne'er be tired

O'er mountain, moor, and fell;

Fair play, I'll back the brave wee chap

To fecht the de'il himsel'.

And yet beneath his rugged coat
A heart beats warm and true.

He'll help to herd the sheep and kye,

And mind the lammies too.

Then see him at the ingle side,

Wi' bairnies roond him laughin

Was ever dog sae pleased as he,

Sae fond o'fun and daffin'?

But gie's your hand, Stratbogie man'

Guid faith' we maunna sever.

Then 'Here's to Scotia's best o'dogs,

Our towsy tyke for ever!".

(The Live Stock Journal, Jan. 31st)

By Dr. Gordon Stables, 1879