My son Andrew began calling Fingal this after seeing what he seems to be full of and the comment of a neighbor about his long face and floppy ears. We have survived Christmas with the addition of a 3 foot pen around the tree. Fingal still is a charmer looking, as he does right now, like an assembly of spare parts: huge feet a tail that drags the ground, the aformentioned floppy ears. It's hard to see the elegant hound he'll grow into. He's pretty smart; he knows when he sits, he'll get a treat. Sometimes he stands looking bewildered, sometimes biting wildly, due to cutting teeth.Oddly, when he whines, he has a little peeping voice, but he has a full fledged grownup bark. The first few times we heard it, Tax went racing past him, looking for the dog who made the noise. Even Fingal looked a little confused.
He has been to Pampered Pooch, the dog sitters, a couple of times and was very good, except for his habit of mounting everything in sight. He's obviously already considering himself an alpha male.
Right now, he's the laid back Fingal, listening to Scottish music, lying beside my chair as I write.
He's grown in the few weeks I've had him (or he's had me) and is starting to get a fuzzy face. I think the hardest thing right now will be his teething. His gums are swollen and he's constantly rubbing his jaws against things. I've found ice cubes help.
I find myself watching him, the awkward puppy doing goofy things, and smiling. Things could be worse.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Update on Fingal: Home Alone
I'll be adding pictures of Fingal taken by Barbara Heidenreich, of Fernhill Kennels, Fingal's birthplace. The first I posted is selfexplanatory. Deerhounds usually have pretty big litters, and you can see that Fingal seems to be the largest.
He's still mellow,though he did attack and kill a library book while I was gone.My fault. I'd left it on a shelf near his bed.
Our day goes something like this. I wake early, walk out to get the paper. He comes with me, empties his enormous bladder, then I have my tea and read the paper as he snuggles next to me, his nose inside my slipper.
An hour or so later, Taz wanders out, yawning, and the two go outside again, then lie around till walk time.
Until Fingal's arrival I had been training Taz off leash, by taking off her collar, having her come to me, getting a favorite treat. I tries it yesterday with both of them. They took off, Taz ignoring my calls, ran around the hill, so I saw occasional gray shapes floating through the trees.
I went looking for them, came back to find them sitting on the porch, grinning at me. No more off leash.
He's still mellow,though he did attack and kill a library book while I was gone.My fault. I'd left it on a shelf near his bed.
Our day goes something like this. I wake early, walk out to get the paper. He comes with me, empties his enormous bladder, then I have my tea and read the paper as he snuggles next to me, his nose inside my slipper.
An hour or so later, Taz wanders out, yawning, and the two go outside again, then lie around till walk time.
Until Fingal's arrival I had been training Taz off leash, by taking off her collar, having her come to me, getting a favorite treat. I tries it yesterday with both of them. They took off, Taz ignoring my calls, ran around the hill, so I saw occasional gray shapes floating through the trees.
I went looking for them, came back to find them sitting on the porch, grinning at me. No more off leash.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Deck the Halls
I've now had Fingal for a week, and so far, so good, Yesterday my son Andrew & I took the two dogs to pick out a Christmas tree, and they both had a great time. Then we began to decorate the tree and the fun began. Fingal plucked an ornament out of the box, took one look at my face, and ran into the bedroom. I caught him in time. Then he found the stockings. Then another ornament. Today, before we went out, we put his x-pen around the tree, and came home to find nothing but two good dogs and one Christmas tablecloth, unwrapped. No damage.
Andy and I sat in the tv room, watching Jeeves & Wooster, our laughter and the tv covering sounds in other rooms. Did I mention that I had moved the pen so I could add more ornaments?
Damage: two glass ornaments, an angel and a wooden sailboat.
Otherwise, Fingal is delightful, smart and sweet. He's much calmer than Taz was, and learns quickly. Still a few puddles, but he's learning. His paws are bigger than Taz's whose 3. His coat is still smooth rather than rough, and his ears have a life of their own.
I find myself smiling just watching him lollop across the porch. I'd forgotten how puppies can simply collapse and fall asleep in seconds.
Andy and I sat in the tv room, watching Jeeves & Wooster, our laughter and the tv covering sounds in other rooms. Did I mention that I had moved the pen so I could add more ornaments?
Damage: two glass ornaments, an angel and a wooden sailboat.
Otherwise, Fingal is delightful, smart and sweet. He's much calmer than Taz was, and learns quickly. Still a few puddles, but he's learning. His paws are bigger than Taz's whose 3. His coat is still smooth rather than rough, and his ears have a life of their own.
I find myself smiling just watching him lollop across the porch. I'd forgotten how puppies can simply collapse and fall asleep in seconds.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Raising Fingal December 10
Last Sunday, my son Andrew and I did a 14 hour round trip, and came home with an unnamed Scottish Deerhound puppy. He was just four momths old and weighed 55 pounds.
I had not raised a puppy in 40 years but he needed a good home. He's not show quality, having a pronounced overbite. While I was waiting to get him, friends and I went through a name search, but when I saw him, one name seemed right: Fingal. There's a Fingal's Cave on the Hebridean island of Staffa, an Irish legend of the Giant's Causeway of basalt columns in the Irish Sea, connecting to the basalt columns in Fingal's Cave, connecting to the Irish hero Finn MacCool. Anyway, after I saw the puppy's feet, a Hebridean giant's name seemed fitting and proper.
So, Fingal came home to join Taz. I had lost one wonderful deerhound last year on Christmas Day. Oona had been a most remarkable dog, but with so many genetic problems, she died at the age of six. Taz, or Topaz, had been the sole deerhound for almost a year, and it was obvious she was lonely. I began looking for a buddy for her, and though I had no intention of having a puppy, he needed a home, and I gave in.
I decided today, after cleaning up two puddles, that Iwould keep a record of his and my relationship.
So far, in less than a week, he knows his name, has learned to go up and down stairs, and knows to go to a bed to get a treat.
The first night he was here was a learning experience. I put in him a large pen by my bed, turned off the light-andlistened to his pitiful whines. At 1am, I moved Taz off one of her beds, put Fingal near her on the other, and everyone slept. This is how it has gone. He sleeps until I get up. I let him out when I go for the paper, I watch as he pees-on and on and on, and then we go in the house, he goes back to sleep, and everything is quiet.
This is what I like about deerhounds. They do not spring to life at sun up. Theirs is a more leisurely schedule.
Right now it's evening, and the two of them are galloping on the back porch. When it's time to go to bed, we go into the bedroom, the baby gate goes up, (they have no idea they can step over it) and everything settles for the night. Taz zonks out. Fingal protests if I keep the light on too long.
Fingal is a most affectionate puppy, and right now I'm glad I made the decision to get him. We'll see....
I had not raised a puppy in 40 years but he needed a good home. He's not show quality, having a pronounced overbite. While I was waiting to get him, friends and I went through a name search, but when I saw him, one name seemed right: Fingal. There's a Fingal's Cave on the Hebridean island of Staffa, an Irish legend of the Giant's Causeway of basalt columns in the Irish Sea, connecting to the basalt columns in Fingal's Cave, connecting to the Irish hero Finn MacCool. Anyway, after I saw the puppy's feet, a Hebridean giant's name seemed fitting and proper.
So, Fingal came home to join Taz. I had lost one wonderful deerhound last year on Christmas Day. Oona had been a most remarkable dog, but with so many genetic problems, she died at the age of six. Taz, or Topaz, had been the sole deerhound for almost a year, and it was obvious she was lonely. I began looking for a buddy for her, and though I had no intention of having a puppy, he needed a home, and I gave in.
I decided today, after cleaning up two puddles, that Iwould keep a record of his and my relationship.
So far, in less than a week, he knows his name, has learned to go up and down stairs, and knows to go to a bed to get a treat.
The first night he was here was a learning experience. I put in him a large pen by my bed, turned off the light-andlistened to his pitiful whines. At 1am, I moved Taz off one of her beds, put Fingal near her on the other, and everyone slept. This is how it has gone. He sleeps until I get up. I let him out when I go for the paper, I watch as he pees-on and on and on, and then we go in the house, he goes back to sleep, and everything is quiet.
This is what I like about deerhounds. They do not spring to life at sun up. Theirs is a more leisurely schedule.
Right now it's evening, and the two of them are galloping on the back porch. When it's time to go to bed, we go into the bedroom, the baby gate goes up, (they have no idea they can step over it) and everything settles for the night. Taz zonks out. Fingal protests if I keep the light on too long.
Fingal is a most affectionate puppy, and right now I'm glad I made the decision to get him. We'll see....
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