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....