I gave my father his first vizsla in 1969. We’ve had these wonderful dogs in our family ever since. Bill and I bought our first vizslas in 1988. They were Summer and Rip (sister and brother). Believe me when I say that all subsequent vizslas have been measured against these two. Both of them won the Ontario Versatile Vizsla trophy (an honoured prize). The breeder of Summer and Rip’s grandmother said, “A female vizsla is a force to be reckoned with.” We totally agree! Here’s a story about Summer. You’ll notice that she’s independent, strong-willed and single-minded. Her brother, on the other hand, is kind, attentive and biddable!

We had just survived one of Ontario’s really long winters. It was near the end of May and we hadn’t had a warm day yet.

I took my four vizslas (Summer, Rip, Cheer and Spring) to the Vivian forest. I know when to go (when no one else is there!!!). I do carry four leashes in case we encounter other people, dogs or critters. The forest is for hiking and riding, no campers, no camping, no bikes, no motorized vehicles.

When we arrived the parking lot was empty. Perfect! I let the dogs out and we walked for an hour (well, I walked, they zoomed). I was on the long, straight trail leading to the parking lot (about 100 metres from my mini-van) when I noticed a truck with a big camper attached to it. Summer noticed it, too. Before I could divert her devious mind she was off like a shot. The other three stayed with me. I got Rip, Cheer and Spring into my vehicle as quickly as possible, then went looking for Summer. She wasn’t visible, but the caravan was. The door was wide open. I called Summer and she walked out of the door and down its step with a bag of hotdog buns in her mouth. She scurried off and had her way with them before I could get my hands on her. No one was screaming obscenities from the camper so I got my butt out of there.

The next day we returned to the Vivian forest. The camper was still there. Hmmm…that’s against the rules…. Before I released the hounds I noticed that the camper door was closed. I saw no human activity.

An hour later we approached the parking lot from the same long, straight trail. This time I saw human activity near the camper. Summer was off like a shot. I frantically leashed the other three and called out, “Summer’s coming!!!! Summer’s Coming!!!” and ran to the parking lot. I arrived just as Summer jumped out of the camper (no dilly-dallying this time). She had a brand new package of hotdog buns in her mouth (twelve) and two irate humans yelling at her.

I didn’t have to worry about the people laying a hand on Summer. She would outfox them, eat the buns and reappear in her own good time. I think the only reason the people didn’t accost me was because they were camping illegally.

While awaiting the return of the thief I pondered the day’s event. I thought about alternative phrases I could call out (while at a dead run) to alert people with food of the imminent arrival of the craftiest, fastest, hungriest vizsla on the planet. “Summer’s Coming!!!” is enough to strike fear into the hearts of the many people who know her, but the depth and breadth of those two words are lost on the general public.