Ugly, but only in looks

There's a contest for just about everything these days - how far you can spit watermelon pips, who can roll a pumpkin the furthest downhill and, of course, the World's Ugliest Dog Contest.

Walle, a 4-year-old mutt from Chico, California, has achieved the dubious mantle of being the ugliest canine in the world, a title he won at the expense of 29 other finalists.

The huge-headed, duck-footed pot licker is of decidedly mixed heritage being part beagle, boxer and bassett hound and - although judges have made no comment in this regard - it's my bet what Walle lacks in looks he makes up for in personality.

My dear old dad loved dogs, which probably accounts for my luke-warm feelings towards them nowadays apart from one special rascal that I will soon tell you about.

Dad was particularly enamoured of German shepherds, or Alsatians as we always called them, and before my arrival on planet Earth apparently had some pretty reasonable show dogs, including a favourite of his with a tongue-twisting kennel name but whom he called Rinty.

My first encounter with Dad's dogs was with a Duke von Wunderlich - shortened to just Duke around home - and he was a brainless coot that was apparently hard to train, rebellious and certainly not a favourite of mine.

Looking back, I think he finally managed to break my father's love of Alsatians because, on Duke's demise, Dad changed direction and bought a little brindle-and-white pedigree English bull terrier puppy we named Barney.

I can still remember peering into the wooden crate Barney was housed in for the journey from his Kapiti Coast breeders to our home and getting my first glimpse of the only dog I was ever really to take a shine to.

He oozed personality and it was obvious from the start he was intent on a life of mischievous enjoyment.

By virtue of his breed alone, he was capable, once he got a bit of size on, to put the frighteners up anyone who wandered on to our place, including one or two of my mates who scaled trees or sat on top of our mailbox as soon as he appeared.

I loved him for it.

In truth, Barney was an extremely intelligent, lovable guy who wouldn't hurt a fly and certainly not a human but he had one failing - he loved a dog fight.

He sat inside our gate in eager anticipation that some unfortunate mutt would wander by and, in a flash, he was out there and into them.

The more saliva, blood and guts flying the better he liked it and he could scrap too.

As a kid I knew how to safely disengage Barney before he got too serious and locked his jaw on the throats of his victims, which would have been curtains for them, and he never succeeded in sending any to the happy hunting ground in the sky.

What he did succeed in achieving over the years was a face full of scars, his long nose was a mass of them, which had the effect of terrifying more and more people who invaded our living space.

By his senior years, he had achieved a profile I have no doubt would have qualified him to contest the World's Ugliest Dog title but whether he could have dethroned Walle is, sadly, something I will never know.