Going on Eleven Months

34 inches tall, 110 pounds of puppy. Fingal has a wonderful, sweet disposition, but he's a TEENAGER! He smells it and acts it. Walking him and Taz can be pleasant or a trial, depending on how frisky he is. When he starts leaping in circles, there's nothing to do but turn around and go home. I'll take photos as soon as he will stand still. He's into eating paper. Three Library books and several of mine. I accidentally ordered two copies of Phil Rickman's new book, The Bones of Avalon, (see Bibliomania) which was fortunate, because he ate one copy before I read it. As a friend said, I have a very literary dog. He has been bawled out enough to greet me at the front door looking guilty when he's devoured something while I'm away. He looks so pitiful. "I know I did wrong but that (book, magazine,  roll of paper towels, cardboard box) was just lying there.

He makes me laugh many times a day. He's worth the effort. I keep remembering how totally awful Taz was at this age, and assuring myself he's not as bad as she was. He hasn't carried a sofa cushion outside.

Eight Months

Fingal now makes Taz look dainty. Everything about him is heavier. I haven't had him weighed but I'm guessing 100 pounds. He is still pure puppy, pawing, jumping chewing everything. He carries cushions around. He plays with his toys, more than Taz ever did, throwing them up in the air, catching them. Every day he makes me laugh at his goofy behavior.

The interaction between the two is interesting. This morning he did something Taz didn't like and she let him know who's boss. A few minutes later  they were licking each other's paws and mouths. The nice thing about deerhounds is that know the value of naps. Morning and afternoon they settle down for a few hours. Right now Fingal, who has been active since 7 or so, is sprawling on his pillow next to my bed, and Taz is on hers. Earlier when I was at the computer, Fingal came to say hello after drinking, spattering me with water.

His gait is an adult's now. Where Taz moves fluidly along as she runs, Final has a high stepping "guy" gait.
 He is still puppy-sweet, coming in in the morning to bury his head at my side as I read the newspaper. Then he chews up a box of Kleenex. Argh!

Seven Months Old

Fingal will hit his seventh month day after tomorrow. Little by little he's looking less puppy & giving more idea of what he'll look like as an adult. He's still got the deerhound pup face looking at him headon, but sideways, you get the idea. He's just been weighed & measured: 95 pounds & 31 1/2 inches tall.
He is so affectionate, still coming in for a cuddle.
Yesterday he climbed on my bed for about the 5th time. I've let him know it's off limits, but this time I really yelled at him. He then lay flat on the floor and bent his head down, rolling his eyes up at me. I started laughing, he looked so pitiful, and sat down and hugged him.
Taz is doing a good job training him, and they play well together, galloping up and down the back porch, sounding like a herd of ponies.
He whines a LOT, and sometimes I have no idea why. Does he miss his litter? Does he have a pain? Anyway I took him to the vet Thursday, and Lark  could find nothing wrong.
Except of course for that overbite which has to be take care of quickly. I'll have to go all the way to Shoreline to the orthodontic vet, and of course, this is NOT covered by insurance. When I got him  I was told there would be a problem, so it isn't a surprise. Anyway, I wouldn't trade him. He makes me smile too often every day.

Growing Up and Up and Up

Fingal is now nearly seven months old, still hasn't quite grown into his feet and tail, and is as tall as Taz. He's still sweet natured, needing a lot of cuddling, but I'm going to have to work more with him now. He knows four hand signals, obeys most times, but when he gets excited, all bets are off.
He responds to two sounds: the steamer on the espresso machine, and the refrigerator's ice machine. He studies the way I get ice from the fridge door and waits for me to give him a piece. I suspect he will soon figure out he can push the lever with his nose, open his mouth, and serve himself. The steamer is another matter. He and Taz wait patiently, looking from me to the milk container. They watch we I add milk to the coffee, then I give them  what remains in the jug, cooled a bit of course.
Fingal, like the two deerhound males I had before him, likes to drag articles of my clothing to his bed. He doesn't chew them. So, as Taz taught me to put my shoes away, Fingal is teaching me another lesson on being tidy.
Am I glad I gave in and took him? You bet I am. In spite of being exasperated with him (he whines a lot) at times, I smile whenever he come up to me.

Upside Downside

Fingal went to his first obedience class yesterday and on the whole did quite well. We worked on  "Go to bed and down", "Sit" , 'Watch Me","Leave It", "Let's Go", walking nicely on leash and come when called.I had already taught him to sit, and he caught on to the others quite well. Except the leash bit. He pulled constantly, trying to see everything, get to the other dogs, wanting the treats the trainers gave to all the dogs. That one is going to take a while. But I've had Taz trained at Canine Potentials and think highly of Carol Ganaway, so I'm sure he'll do well.
The real problem is house breaking him. He drinks copious amounts of water and though I let him outside a lot, praise him when he urinates outside, he comes in, walks around and pees. While strolling around!My wood floors have never been so clean, but the bedroom carpet's a mess, even after it has been cleaned.
Otherwise, for a puppy his age, he's great. He still comes up to be cuddled, and he's really laid back.
His coat is changing, getting thick and kind of curly and he loves it when I rub it, massaging him.
I will grit my teeth, talk softly (I'm really proud of myself-haven't yelled at him, even when I step in a puddle) and know he'll turn into a fine adult.

Teenager?

Fingal is now 29 inches tall & at a guess, over 60 pounds. This can be a problem because of his enthusiatic greeting of guests, and his wish to climb in their laps.Luckily, on Sunday he begins behavior classes. Right now he sits on command, and comes, as long as I tell him in a "happy voice." A stern one sends him fleeing. He's still not totally housebroken, but he's getting better. Taz and he went to Pampered Pooch daycare yesterday, where they can run, play in a pond and generally be part of a pack. Taz's buddy Kona and Fingal picked on a little Lab, and got a time out, but otherwise Vicky tells me he's really sweet. We'll see what Sunday brings.

Fingal at five months

His first snow. He ate quite a bit. He has grown about two inches, and has learned a few commands. He's cutting teeth so nothing's safe. I'm giving him all sorts of things to chew on, and trying to keep any paper away from him.

Taz is helping raise him, and I don't interfere when she's taking care of things. He's still a delight, goofy and good tempered.. He developed a fullgrown, adult bark, which confused Taz. The first time he barked to come in, she went running past him when I opened the door, looking for the guilty   dog.
When I watch dvd's,Taz lies on the couch, Fingal at my feet. He keeps trying to climb on furniture, so I've resorted to the spray bottle, which  he caught onto very quickly. Smart puppy.

My worries about raising a puppy are gone. I spend so much time laughing at him, I wouldn't have missed this for the world. He seems pretty mellow most of the time, and comes up to me to be cuddled, hiding his face against me.

Now, if only he could get the idea about getting outside in time! It's funny to watch him. He begins his peeping whine. He stares at me.
 I say, "Okay, let's go outside."
But until the whines get louder, he won't move.
Especially at night, when he's curled up on his bed, he doesn't want to move. A couple of times I've had to tip him off the bed, to get him headed for the back door. During the day, he does go to the door when things get urgent. He can last about two hours, then all bets are off. I have begun to time meetings and appointments by Fingal's pee schedule.


                                    

Poopy Goatface

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.

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.

DAY ONE Fingal is the big one on his mom

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.

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....