Just a bystander

I went to the pet food and supply store where we enjoyed the grand opening earlier this week, and the cashier recognized me. Sort of. 

"Oh," she said. "You're the one with the Biggest Dog."

However, she didn't say it as, "You're the OWNER of the Biggest Dog."

She said it as, "You're the one who ACCOMPANIES the Biggest Dog." 

As in, "The Biggest Dog's chauffeur."

"The Biggest Dog's go-fer."

"The Biggest Dog's secretary."

"The Biggest Dog's buyer of pet foods."

"The Biggest Dog's personal groomer."

"The Biggest Dog's maid."

"The Biggest Dog's fan club president."

Yup. That's me.

Another beastly encounter

Last week we had an encounter with a bear.

This week, once again I heard Blake barking ferociously. This time it was broad daylight. I ran outside to see what was causing my Irish Wolfhound — who never barks — to bark so amazingly. 

It was a loose bull.

The bull was standing in my driveway with a herd of loose cows and calves. He was mixing it up with my neighbor's longhorns, in the adjacent pasture.  The longhorn steer didn't like the bull's interest in the lady longhorns, and the barbed wire between them seemed suddenly rather fragile.

Blake was standing at the fenceline closest to the driveway, sounding the alarm and ready to take them all on. Thankfully the chainlink separated him from the bull, but who knows how long that would last? He came when I called. 

Thankfully, the bull's owners soon arrived and herded away the trespassers.

Bull versus Bear Market? I was thankful that this time I could see what was going on. Besides Blake, that is.

Name games

My first Irish Wolfhound more than eight years ago was very special as the first, and I searched and thought a long while when it came to naming her and registering her with the American Kennel Club. I looked through Irish dictionaries and delved into other possible sources such as myths and legends. In the end she gave me her own name, because that's who she was: Erin, Rocket Girl of Rysheron. Her call name was Erin ... Ireland.

Harry's registered name is CH Rysheron's Wizard, JC, a tipoff that Harry's name pays homage to the hero of J.K. Rowling's magical classics. 

CH Glenamadda Starkeeper Verity was a bundle of red brindle when she arrived as a puppy from Canada. A smarty redhead with a giant crush on Harry from Day One ... naturally, she named herself: Ginny.

 

 Young Ginny with Harry at dusk in 2007

Her registered name, Verity, comes from being in the "V" litter. Verity means truth, and that's my hope for the foundation of my kennel.

Blake, the youngest, registered as Limerick Blake at Gryffindor, comes from a litter of 12 magnificent wolfhounds that are all named after tennis players! 

He's the Man

A new pet food and supply store opened over the weekend. Blake and I went to the grand opening celebration, where he was mobbed by adoring fans. He had great fun being a celebrity! He enjoys all people of all ages and races and disabilities. He even liked meeting the people dressed up in furry costumes as giant dogs and cats. People snapped photos of themselves with him. The store held a contest and Blake won ... Biggest Dog. Woo hooo! I loved the store gift card but Blake sniffed it expectedly and wondered why it wasn't a treat. We also got a studio photo taken for free and I have to say it's a pity I'm not one of those people who resemble their pets ... Blake is so handsome!

Tails of Boy Meets Girl

Usually Ginny has her tail straight up in the air when she's playing or having good Irish fun. But here (in front), I think maybe she's showing her "flirty tail" to Blake ... and his tail says it's working.

On Patrol

Since our bear encounter,  Blake has assigned himself patrol duty.

Provoked

They say about Irish Wolfhounds: "Gentle when stroked, fierce when provoked." 

And it seems there is no dog sweeter or more gentle than happy young Blake. For example, Blake is extra gentle, very mindful, and careful around children and people who are disabled. I'm hoping he has a future as a therapy dog.

Last night, however, I saw the "provoked" side of my sweet boy.

It started with a great commotion around 9:30 p.m. in our Canyon. I had let Blake out in a small fenced yard behind my house, before I brought him in for the night. The neighbors' dogs were barking frantically, and amazingly, so were a pack of coyotes. Usually when the coyotes are having a teasing exchange with the neighbors' dogs, they cackle and howl. This time, however, both wild and domestic canines were barking ferociously. What was up?

In less than 10 minutes,  I heard Blake barking and growling as I have never heard him before. I ran out to the yard and Blake was standing in powerful majesty at the fenceline. In the porchlight, all his fur seemed to be standing on end. He was gazing into the dark wilderness, the national forest beyond our fence. When he saw me he immediately placed himself between me and the fenceline, his barking and growling continuing all the while. There was little moonlight to see what was out there. In the darkness, there was ... something. I called and he came to me. 

This morning my neighbors said it appeared that a bear had knocked over other neighbors' very large and heavy trash cans. And when I let Blake out in the morning light, he ran to that same spot near the fence, growling and looking around. Then he stopped and came to me with a wolfhound grin. He was satisfied that the danger was gone.