'The unicorn of the dog world': Why the Glen of Imaal terrier is the best dog you've never heard of
Resembling a wolfhound after a boil wash, the Glen of Imaal terrier is capable of executing the ultimate charm offensive, finds Lucinda Gosling.
I’m starting to wonder if I should get business cards printed for my dog. Glen of Imaal terrier owners — and there aren’t many of us — will understand this. Go anywhere with a Glen and it will elicit smiles and questions, including the tentative, yet inevitable: ‘What is he?’
You tell them, enunciating the name slowly because ‘Glen of Imaal terrier’ is a mouthful and liable to be misheard. You repeat it, perhaps twice, and explain a little more about the breed. ‘He’s so lovely,’ they say. ‘What a character’ — and you part company. Every time, you’re left wondering how a breed that attracts such admiration can remain relatively unknown.
Country Life previously described the breed as ‘an extremely game little dog’.
Lucinda and Feargal.
Glen of Imaal terriers are named after their place of origin, a remote area of Co Wicklow, where they worked on farms to keep predators such as rats in check. The breed was so localised, it was barely known across the rest of Ireland, let alone further afield, until the end of the 19th century. In 1956, a reader of The Field from Co Antrim wrote to the magazine asking: ‘Could any reader give me a description of the “Glen of Imaal Terrier?” Is it still in existence?’ In the same year, the Glen received a brief mention in Country Life, as ‘an extremely game little dog’.
By 2008, a litter of Glen puppies was considered such a novelty, it was reported in both the Daily Mail and The Times. Today, they remain unicorn-like, a fixture on the Royal Kennel Club’s list of vulnerable native breeds; only once in the past decade have more than 100 Glen puppies been registered in a year.
Ancient and brave
Theories about the Glen of Imaal terrier’s genetic origins vary. One explanation dates them to the 16th century, when mercenaries from the Low Countries were hired by Elizabeth I to put down a Gaelic rebellion in Ireland. It is thought they brought bassett-type dwarf breeds that bred with local terriers and the result was the Glen. It’s possible that Huguenot immigrants to the Wicklow area introduced a similar dog, but DNA tests have also identified links to the Molosser canine group, which includes large breeds, such as mastiffs. Good for hunting underground, the Glen’s sturdy physique made it ideal for work as a turnspit dog, although those who own Glens are sceptical, finding it hard to imagine this independent-minded dog tolerating such repetitive drudgery. The breed was late to the show ring, first being recognised by the Irish Kennel Club in 1934 (even then, they had to earn a Teastac Misneac or ‘Certificate of Courage’ before they could enter a championship show, requiring them to hunt and pull a badger from a maze of tunnels in a timed test). Remaining in obscurity as a tough, working dog meant the Glen’s ‘unrefined’ looks avoided any genteel adjustments to follow fashion, so Glens still exhibit ‘ancient’ physical characteristics, probably recognisable in the terriers of the Elizabethan era.
I’ve had my Glen, Feargal, almost five years and have yet to bump into another by chance. The breed is ruggedly handsome, with a charmingly unkept coat available in shades of wheaten, blue and brindle. They have half-pricked ears, soft panda eyes and a jaunty gait. According to the breed standard, their tail should be ‘carried gaily’ and a good Glen will exhibit ‘maximum substance for size’. In other words, they’re pleasingly chunky.
‘Years ago, we had a very fine West Highland terrier who was quite a character and large for his breed,’ reveals broadcaster Clive Anderson, who — with his wife, Prof Jane Anderson — owns Ailsa. ‘I didn’t think I could find another Westie quite like him and was attracted to the idea of a Glen, a fairly similar, sturdy breed.’ The Andersons’ bitch is named after Ailsa Craig, a small, granite island (of Olympic curling-stone fame) off the west coast of Scotland. Given her heavy-set stature, the name ‘seems to suit her,’ notes Clive.
True to type, she loves everyone in the Anderson family and beyond, but ‘definitely has a mind of her own and will sit or lie down in the street if she feels it is not really time to go home yet’. Described as a big dog on short legs or, as I prefer, an Irish wolfhound after a boil wash, the breed is achondroplastic — a dwarf breed — bred specifically to do a job: digging out badgers.
Their short legs, bowed outwards like those of a Queen Anne chair, operate like mechanical diggers. Behind that mop of shaggy hair, they have long jaws with a scissor bite and their muscular physique makes them extraordinarily powerful. Try taking a Glen for a walk — that strength combined with a low centre of gravity means you’ll need to hold on for dear life if they spot a cat or a fox. However, their occasional pugnacity melts away in the presence of humans. They are incredibly friendly and, at the end of a walk, Feargal will sit often outside our front door as I discard walking boots, surveying the street on the off chance a neighbour, the postman, a passing builder (anyone, really) will stop to tickle his tummy.
Irish inspiration
Across the pond, Bruce Sussman, writing partner of Barry Manilow, has long been an advocate for Glen of Imaal terriers. His dogs inspired a song he wrote for the 1988 Disney animation, Oliver & Company. The title? 'Perfect Isn’t Easy'.
Few and far between
Associations in several countries zealously promote the breed, yet the Glen Imaal terrier remains a rarity. Kathy George of the renowned Romainville kennel in Herefordshire, obtained her first Glen as a suitable pet for her children in the late 1980s and, to date, she numbers 16 champions and four Best of Breed at Crufts among her dogs. She believes supply is a factor in the breed’s continued scarcity: ‘Because the wait for a pup can be lengthy, people are impatient and buy something more easily available.’
Unlike most terriers, they rarely bark (a trait from their working days, when they were bred to remain silent underground). Fireworks, sausages sizzling under the grill or a fire alarm are the only things to trigger his deep, sonorous bark — so, although he might invite burglars in and even point out where the valuables are, I am at least confident he’d save us in the event of a fire.
Strong and mostly silent, many Glens reveal their mulish character on walks. When a member of a Glen of Imaal terrier Facebook group posted a photograph of their dog flopped on the pavement refusing to move and asked if anyone else had experienced similar behaviour, members responded with photographs of their own Glens doing exactly the same thing, sprawled across kerbs or in the middle of roads; a damning body of evidence testifying to the breed’s legendary stubbornness.
They will walk for miles if they can do it at their pace. However, if you’re the active type and want a dog that will trot alongside you on a morning jog, think again, as they have a habit of putting the brakes on without warning.
The Glen of Imaal terrier challenge certificate winners with judge at the National Terrier Championship Dog Show, 2007.
The 'Glen Sit', as demonstrated by Feargal.
A sweet charm offensive can be found in the form of the ‘Glen Sit’ — a unique, secret weapon guaranteed to dent the resolve of the most determined owner. They sit up, unaided, with their hind legs out in front of them and fore paws by their side, a feat made possible by their solid muscular bodies. It is both odd and adorable. ‘He looks like a Gummy Bear,’ hooted an astonished walker when Feargal performed a Glen Sit in our park. Whether begging for a toast crust or angling for a chest rub, they know exactly when to deploy their special superpower.
