A DOG’S TALE


A very good friend was talking about me the other day and described me as ‘a little man in a furry suit’ and I have to admit that description fits me perfectly. I think I am a bit special, maybe more than a bit.


My name is Harvey, kennel name Bourbon of Brynceri. I am from very good stock. My Mum and Dad (Liz & Alan Wyatt) bought me from a top breeder in Faversham, Kent and at the early age of just 12 weeks I was introduced to Ham Polo Club. Of course I had no idea then how much of my life would be spent there. It became my ‘home from home’ and I thank my lucky stars for it. Whether I was chasing polo balls, padding around the clubhouse in search of chips, lazing in the summer breeze at the back of my dad’s car or meeting and greeting fellow pooches, I have loved every minute.


I’ve led a simple life, featuring three major obsessions, my mum, chips and polo balls. Nothing too odd there, in fact my dad’s passions are fairly similar, although retrieving polo balls rather than hitting them was my speciality. I adored running for hours in both the glorious sunshine and the pouring rain (dreadful on the coat) seeking them out and carefully placing them in the back of our car where I would guard them until they were stored safely back at home. During my lifetime I re-homed or purloined (depending on your perspective) just over 1,863 Polo Balls. I’m guessing that must be some kind of record, but perhaps not one to be proud of. In my twilight years, following intense negotiations, I reluctantly agreed to return 1,860 of them. I reckoned my Dad made a big mistake though because polo balls were definitely going to keep going up in price and my stash must have been worth about 3K. I suggested to my parents they take back a couple each week over the next 15 years and seek the 10p per ball that the children get, but they didn’t seem that keen. So in the end, they were duly returned to the club in return for a pat on the head from the Chairman. I still think we should have held out for compensation. Chips were my suggestion.


Chips you see are my other passion and I will remain eternally grateful to those of you that over the years have gazed into my little brown eyes and been moved by my wan gaze during your Sunday lunch. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t actually as close to starvation as my look suggested and perhaps I had already been fed a perfectly acceptable lunch at home earlier, but be fair, everyone can find room for chips, especially Hunt Kendall’s chips, mmmmmmm. They were definitely worth fibbing for. Even if they had been squished under foot, they still tasted good to me. In fact, I feel confident in declaring


OFHAMPOLO CLUB By Harvey


Hunt Kendall’s chips the best in Richmond actually probably Europe. Of course I can’t be certain about the Europe bit because the furthest I’ve travelled is Withey Poole, but you get my point.


Now there will be some of you who will be wracking your brains wondering if they ever met me. You may not, but I’m guessing you will definitely have heard me. I am responsible for occasional bouts of impromptu singing - ok - howling in the clubhouse. The truth is I could never be sure my Mum would return safely if she ventured away from my side even for one minute, so I thought it safer to put the entire clubhouse on full alert. I am aware it’s not big and it’s not clever to howl but it definitely works. For example when I got bored waiting in the back of my Dad’s car for him to finish playing or umpiring, a quick howl and my very dear friends Annie and Nicholas Colquhoun-Denvers come to my rescue. Result! I have to say they were always very kind to me. They even gave me special permission to attend the Players’ Black Tie Dinner with


my Mum. I was about 102 (human years) but still managed to look pretty damn cool in my red bow and was on my very best behaviour. I remember snuggling under the table with my paws and head laid over my mum’s feet and thinking life doesn’t get much better than this.


Now you don’t need me to tell you that life


doesn’t last forever but for us dogs life really is quite short and sadly on the morning of 9th December 2010, Mum and Dad took me for what we all knew would be my last little stroll at the Club. It was the day before my 15th birthday and the sun was shining and a gentle breeze was blowing as I patrolled the clubhouse hedgerow for one last time. Too poorly for chips and too tired to even pick up a polo ball, never mind chase one, my parents stood by my side as I took one last long look and said my final goodbyes to my home from home, Ham.


As we drove through the gates I snuggled down on my mum’s lap grateful for a life lived to the full, for all the love I received and that I was able to give and for never wasting a single day. In short, my tail rarely stopped wagging!


Adios Amigo’s! Keep chasing polo balls, keep smiling and for the sake of my four legged friends, please keep throwing your chips around!


Harvey x The London Polo Club 69


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