Shortly after my fifth wedding anniversary, my father asked to see me in his office. My mother had been grumbling about a lack of grandchildren. Expecting another intervention, I sat down across the table. “Sam,” he began, “I really think it’s time you got a dog.”
His top priority was ensuring we could continue to flight the ponds on our farm in Suffolk when the weather looked promising, without having to rely on a keeper or guest with a dog. His labrador was too old and he wasn’t sure he had another dog in him. It was time for me to take responsibility. So the search began.
Having always had labs, this was my first consideration. My wife wasn’t so keen. We almost plumped for a cocker spaniel. Then I started to read about HPRs, or hunt, point and retrieve breeds to those
