‘I gave up my career for the Sealyham’

A lot of vulnerable native breeds have their fans, but not all have someone as determined to save them as Harry Parsons. Julie Harding travels to Sealyham HQ to meet his latest litter of puppies

- Julie Harding

AN Aga adornment, a loyal and loving attendant, an able and enthusiastic hunting machine, sometimes boisterous and, at other times, quietly contemplative, the Sealyham terrier is a multifaceted canine beloved by farmers, footballers’ wives, the showing fraternity, actors and the aristocracy.

Longish, quite low to the ground, propped up on succinct legs ending in substantial paws and boasting copious amounts of facial hair (if not brought into contact with the groomer’s clippers), which includes a bushy moustache punctuated by a prominent ebony nose, these personable dogs characteristically come in a white hue, but their uniformity can be interrupted in some by patches of black or brown.

Today, a dozen working Sealyhams are in hunting mode on a West Country farm. Having failed to locate a rodent in the hen house, they are now loping through long ryegrass, tongues lolling, short, sharp pants the only sound from these focused creatures that never seem to bark. Here is the quiet and unassuming Enid, the empathetic Tilly, fiercely loyal Grace and the exceptional ratter Peggy. Striding ahead at the front of the pack is Harry Parsons, dressed in a burnt-orange and mustard-yellow check shirt that rivals the weather for its sunny demeanour. Almost single-handedly, 64- year-old Mr Parsons has also brightened the future prospects of this breed that has frequently stared into the abyss of extinction —and, indeed, still does to an extent.