She had small cross-looking eyes and uncertain always-moving ears; she was bad tempered and most unsociable", but everybody respected her. FitzPatrick describes the puppies: "Five of the litter were fat strong yellow chaps with dark muzzles—like their father. The sixth one was about half the size of the others. He wasn't yellow like the others, nor dark brindled like Jess, but a sort of dirty pale half-and-half colour with dark faint wavy lines all over him; and he had a dark little muzzle.

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Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Other editions. Enlarge cover. Error rating book. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Percy FitzPatrick. Details if other :. Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. Preview — Jock of the Bushveld by J.

Jock of the Bushveld by J. Jock of the Bushveld, published in , has been read and enjoyed by millions of children and is now a classic among animal stories. It remains as fresh and exciting as it was when it was first written and is dedicated by Fitzpatrick to ' Those were the days when big game roamed the land and each sunrise brought a new adventure.

The story of the bull terrier who shared his master's life on the veld has been illustrated with lively sketches by Edmund Caldwell.

Get A Copy. Published July 31st by Ad Donker Publishers first published More Details Original Title. Other Editions Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about Jock of the Bushveld , please sign up.

Why has no one read it? Its an absolute classic in South Afrcia. See 2 questions about Jock of the Bushveld…. Lists with This Book. Community Reviews. Showing Average rating 4. Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Start your review of Jock of the Bushveld. Dec 11, Dirk Grobbelaar rated it it was ok Shelves: ces-recommends , wife-books , must-read-in What we have here is a bona fide local classic.

The tale of Jock of the Bushveld is as proudly South African as biltong and beskuit. Or perhaps not as proudly: the original version which I obtained from the Gutenberg project is absolutely rife with racial slurs. The colonials at the time, and especially, it s What we have here is a bona fide local classic.

In South Africa we have a big problem with poaching. We also have a fairly shocking endangered species list, because of the hunting habits of the colonials, which caused a lot of damage before it was eventually governed. Again, the novel serves to illustrate. She is beautiful, loyal and has a lovely disposition. My wife and I adopted her from a rescue dog shelter.

And that ending! Of all the bloody stupid things to do! Are some people just born daft! The writing is quite powerful and the adventures are often enjoyable. Is it a good book? It probably is. Did I enjoy it? View all 13 comments. Apr 18, Clint rated it it was amazing Shelves: For sure one of the best books I've ever read.

FitzPatrick during the time the book takes place was a transporter, guys who basically ran groups of oxen and natives transporting goods back and forth across the wilderness of South Africa a hundred-something years ago. I didn't know a lot about South Africa when I went into this, but basically they have their own version of the American wild west, with warr For sure one of the best books I've ever read. I didn't know a lot about South Africa when I went into this, but basically they have their own version of the American wild west, with warring natives that may as well exist in a different world from the Europeans who have moved in, wild animals, frontier justice and injustice , etc.

The Jock of the title was a dog that belonged to FitzPatrick, and almost the entire book is made up of hunting stories with this dog. While actually a transporter, hunting was by far Fitzpatrick's main passion during this time, and, though his writing is a little stilted by time, his descriptions of the hunts are brutal and exhilarating at the same time.

The modern reader will probably be struck at times by the callousness of the hunters, but, like Hemingway's hunting stories, there is still a joy and respect for the wild in these stories that keeps the narrator from seeming like a mass murderer, haha.

He does actually kill for food and safety. His love of Jock is on every page, and the book goes from Jock's birth as a runty little dog no one wanted into Jock's prime when he's the baddest dog on the trail to Jock's brush with death by kick to the head which left him deaf, to Fitzpatrick's life finally moving away from the bush and into the towns, and the decline of Jock's usefulness and ultimate, painfully needless death by accident.

His love of Jock, his relationship with the dog, is the stuff of Old Yeller and Where the Red Fern Grows, but has a ring of authenticity that those books naturally lack because they were purposefully written as relationships with dogs, whereas this was actually just describing one that existed.

Also, and this is a major, MAJOR part of the value of this badass book, the bushveld was a dangerous, unforgiving place, death was common, the wildlife was really fucking wild, this was very extreme life, where the wild, primal, fullest part of both dog and man had infinite space to stretch out. The unspoiled beauty of the wild, the danger and excitement of the hunt, the simplicity of relationships; it's a kind of life that is almost never ever enjoyed by humans anymore.

There is an almost Nietzschean hardness and dedication to the fullest life that applies to the natives, Jock, and FitzPatrick himself. Though he comes across as a very friendly man, there is also an almost comical toughness and deep, deep love of all of life in him.

Some quotes showing this kind of writing: "From time to time you do meet people like that. The world's their oyster, and the fit of a masterful and infinite confidence opens it every time: they walk through life taking of the best as a right, and the world unquestionably submits.

There was no need to finish off this one, for it was bound to die, and no one wanted the meat or sin. Who, then, would be so mad as to think of such a thing?

Five minutes earlier I would have answered very confidently for myself; but there are times when one cannot afford to be sensible. There was a world of unconscious irony in Jim's choice of words, 'Come on! Since the night with the lions, when he had been ignominiously cooped up, there had been nothing to stir his blood and make life forth living A magnificent waterbuck bull, full-grown and in perfect coat and condition, was standing less that five years away and a little to the right, having already passed me when he came to a stop; he was so close that I could see the waves and partings in his heavy coat; the rise and fall in his flanks as he breathed; the ruff on his shaggy bearded throat, that gave such an air of grandeur to the head; the noble carriage, as with head held high and slightly turned to windward he sniffed the breeze from the valley; the nostrils, mobile and sensitive, searching for the least hint of danger; and the eye, large and full and soft, luminous with watchful intelligence; and yet mild and calm - so free was it from all trace of a disturbing thought.

And yet I was so close, it seemed almost possible to reach out and touch hum. There was no thought of shooting: it was a moment of supreme enjoyment. Just to watch him: that was enough. I had asked him something about the Zulu war; and that had started a flood of memories and excitement. In the midst of some description I asked why they killed the children; and he turned his glaring eyes on me and said, 'Inkos, you are my Inkos; but you are white.

If we fight tomorrow, I will kill you. You are good to me, you have saved me; but if our own king says "Kill! We see red; we kill all that lives I must kill you, your wife, your mother, your children, your horses, your oxen, your dog, the fowls that run with the wagons - all that lives I kill. The blood must run. So this time I knew it was useless to order or to talk: he was beyond control, and the fit must run its course. If on that last day of our hunting together he had got at the lioness, and gone under in the hopeless fight; if the sable bull had caught and finished him with one of the scythe-like sweeps of the scimitar horns; if he could have died - like Nelson - in the hour of victory!

Would it not have been better for him - happier for me? Often I thought so. For to fade slowly away; to lose his strength and fire and intelligence; to outlive his character, and no longer be himself! No, that could not be happiness! There are a ton of outdated, local, or Afrikaans words in this book. My Kindle's dictionary could tell me about half of them, and about half I had to guess at. I didn't realize until I got to the end of the book that there was a glossary disguised as "Chapter Also it's the original uncut and unedited version.

This is a book written by a white man in Africa more than years ago, so the word "nigger" is pretty prevalent, but not as much as the word "kaffir. My friend who introduced Jock to me is South African, and he can barely even get the word out it's so offensive to him.


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Jock Of the Bushveld

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