Not too long ago, I was talking with a group of exhibitors at a dog show. Nothing unusual about that, I’m always talking with somebody. But, in this case, a long-time Dalmatian breeder brought up a subject very dear to my heart. She wanted to know about the future of her kennel. “Is it possible to leave your kennel to somebody?”

“You mean, like in a Will?’ a Chihuahua breeder asked.

“Last Will and testament?” a Basset owner inquired.

The Dalmatian lady nodded. “I’m thinking about it, but my lawyer isn’t sure if it’s even possible.”

Possible? Of course it’s possible! My kennel “Lochranza” is living proof that.

Years ago, a remarkable woman who later became the model for Esmeralda von Havenburg in my novel “The Blue Ribbon,” started a kennel at her Victorian house on the edge of a town called Manheim. As the years went by, she enjoyed many shows and made friends all over the country because of her fine dogs and wonderful personality. One of those friends was a young boy the unmarried woman would mentor in the world of dog shows. He would feed the dogs, groom them and study their pedigrees. Together, they would drive to many dog shows and he would handle her champions in the ring. As time went by, they planned to develop a bloodline around her best champion and searched far and wide for the foundation broods to produce the puppies that would carry on the kennel name. And then it happened. The dreaded phone call, the ambulance, the hospital and the funeral where her greatest champion of all mourned beside the roses at her casket.

She was gone. The woman who’s life had infused every aspect of the kennel was gone, never to see her beloved dogs again. But, before she left, she had made a decision: her dream – the one thing that had brought joy to her life for so long – would live!

Lots of people thought the kennel wouldn’t continue. “It won’t work,” they said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” And, anyway, didn’t she let her AKC kennel registration lapse? She had, indeed. Despondent and ill, she hadn’t renewed the registration of the kennel name she held so dear.

I was determined to save this kennel that I had known since I was a child. Between you and me, I wouldn’t have cared what she had raised. It was her dream, a part of my life, too, and itmattered. I wanted the AKC and everyone else to know that Lochranza Kennels was here to stay – and that I would protect it with everything in my power.

At first, they weren’t too helpful. The lady taking my call for the AKC asked in a rather critical tone, “Why did she let her kennel registration lapse?” That was easy enough to explain. She was dealing with a terminal illness and had other things on her mind. Like many of us, she didn’t know there was a way to assure the continuation of her kennel. What did renewing a name for another few years matter if she wouldn’t live that long?

But, it mattered very much. In that lapse of time, during which the kennel’s name wasn’t protected, the AKC had registered other dogs bearing the name “Lochranza.” And they weren’t Collies.

After making it clear that I would trademark the name and no one would be permitted to use it without my permission – including them – I felt our negotiations entering a different and more serious level. At no time after that, did anyone scold my dear friend for neglecting to take care of her kennel paperwork.

In her bequest, Jackie had left to me all of the dogs, kennel supplies and all of the kennel’s records. Going through the files, I had found records of breedings, shipping, pedigrees and fascinating correspondence from around the world. And, most important of all, I had found AKC certificates of the kennel name, going all the way back to the 1940s.

When I produced copies of these certificates, there was no doubt of my claim to the name “Lochranza Kennels.”

The next step in securing the kennel’s future wasn’t so easy. Because my name hadn’t appeared on any kennel paperwork – even though we owned dogs together and I helped to plan breedings – the AKC required that my name appear on all kennel paperwork and that I personally show the dogs for the next five years before they would transfer Lochranza Kennels into my name. In the meantime, I agreed to allow the names of any dogs registered with the name “Lochranza” that had slipped in while our protection had lapsed, to stand undisturbed. I accepted these terms, fulfilled them and the kennel officially continued into its next generation

Today, as the kennel celebrates its 60th anniversary, I think of my old friend. I look across the lawns to the building which houses the beautiful Lochranza Collies she loved so much. I think of how they inspired the kind of novel she used to read on nights that were more lonely than anyone really knew, wondering what would happen to her dogs when she was gone.

I think about those things and say, “You have nothing to fear, my friend. The dogs are safe in their kennels. Everything is the way you wanted it. You and your dream will go on forever.”