For the Love of an Irish Wolfhound

Mistyglen's Rising Star a.k.a. Riser

I understood that living with an Irish Wolfhound would change my life. I did my research. I knew they were a rich man’s dog – expensive to buy, feed and maintain. I knew all about the special considerations necessary for his safe growth (Sleep! No running!), accommodation (Lots of space!), feeding (Moistened, elevated.), exercising (Not on pavement! NO RUNNING!), transportation (No Austin Mini for me!), veterinary care (Both arms, both legs, most of my stomach and my mother’s entire left half!) and comfort (Dog beds aren’t available in size ‘extra jumbo large’ but an overstuffed futon mattress is perfect). I knew my Gentle Giant would steal my heart and crush it entirely when he fell into his early grave.

Yes, siree! The very first time I looked into his mystical, golden eyes I understood that life as I knew it was about to change forever. I had no idea how much – no idea at all.

It started with simple, basic changes like clearing off coffee and end tables, then just moving them out entirely for the extra space; or breaking routine habits like leaving food unattended on the kitchen table that my 85-pound, 5-month-old puppy could reach. I started to look at the small city and surrounding areas in terms of grass, gravel and field versus pavement and walkways in order to best strategize sufficient walking routes with minimal joint stressors (pavement) and hazards (cats; glassy alleys; the angry, German Shepherd down the street).

Slowly, as Riser grew taller and health issues began to surface the simple changes became a little more complicated. I changed jobs frequently, ever on the quest for more dollars and less hours away from my sensitive hound. I needed a bigger house and yard so I moved Riser to a farm. The coyotes didn’t bother us – no body or thing ever did thanks to my giant. And of course, my big, beautiful beast outgrew my car.

He had always been a finicky eater or so I thought. It didn’t matter how much money I spent on a particular brand of premium kibble because the result was always the same – one great big snout up! Adding gravy to his food worked for a little while. So did peanut butter, yogurt, steak, etc. Sometimes it worked but sometimes isn’t reliable and it’s certainly not enough.

I even tried NOT feeding him for a day which didn’t improve his appetite one iota and made me feel like an evil wretch. Nothing worked. I couldn’t keep any weight on his slender, growing frame. This became a serious issue when he needed antibiotics for reoccurring urinary tract infections.  Fourteen days of antibiotics equals fourteen less pounds of Riser – most distressing!

Then one day as I was unpacking groceries and not keeping an eye on Riser, he decided to help himself to an entire family pack of ground beef. I thought back to the chicken stolen from counter tops, the sandwiches stolen from the top of the entertainment center, cheese snatched from the table and the Tim Horton’s coffees that mysteriously disappeared when left on the kitchen island. Riser had the most endearing way of gazing into your eyes lovingly and drooling with abandon whenever real food (or ‘people food’ in layman’s terms) was near.

And behold – a great revelation was passed unto me. Riser was not a picky eater. He wasn’t finicky at all! He would eat any real food – meat, vegetables, fruit, dairy, pizza – you name it! I even suspected that he may have been trying to tell me that he just wanted real food all along and it only took me 2 years to catch on! (Yeah, I know. Swift like tortoise.)

So I fed him. And I mean REALLY fed him. I ground up all kinds of healthful dishes for him. Yes, Riser was on a raw food diet. I can hear some of you readers yelling your objections from way over here. Yes, I was aware of the dangers but I’ll tell you this: he ate.  A lot. And he did well.

I eventually took him off the raw food diet because of my fears and compromised with a mixture of kibble and dehydrated raw food (safer). My point is that for the last year of Riser’s life I averaged 500 dollars a month in dog food expenses. That amount came nowhere near his veterinary costs.

• I was running out of money and credit, even with the Bank of Mom. Riser was very sick. Twice I was told the he may never be able to run again and walking would never be the same – twice he recuperated even with his heart problems. Luckily, I had employment with a technology company that allowed me to work from home and care for him.

• I had to start the process of letting go and preparing for his inevitable and forthcoming death. He wasn’t even 3 years old, not even mature.

These were not simple changes but my gentle hound was worth every tortured tear and sleepless night they brought. I’m sorry, dear reader, but I could not possibly describe all the ways the good natured, even tempered and often humorous Irish Wolfhound stands above other canine breeds. I do, however, want to share the Icelandic Saga of Nial with you, just in case you haven’t read it:

I will give thee a dog which I got in Ireland. He is huge of limb, and a follower equal to an able man. Moreover, he hath a man’s wit and will bark at thine enemies but never at thy friends. And he will see by each man’s face whether he be ill or well disposed to thee. And he will lay down his life for thee.

 There are many don’ts , precautions and general inconveniences to be aware of if you’re considering owning an Irish Wolfhound. Here are JennyJuice’s top 4 tips that I must make bold-faced note of:

1) Choose a reputable breeder. Do your research. I highly recommend Mistyglen Irish Wolfhounds and want to make it clear that bad breeding did NOT play any part whatsoever in the health issues I encountered with Riser.

2) Don’t leave a wolfhound puppy unattended in your home EVER and especially during teething. He/she will eat your home. I kid you not. I read this caution on multiple websites of multiple wolfhound experts/owners.

I took one look at my big, calm puppy snoring away, spread-eagle on his back in the middle of my living room floor and thought, “Surely that is an exaggeration. My perfect, mellow puppy wouldn’t eat my house!”.

Nope. Not even a slight exaggeration. Wolfhound-proof your yard, too. My stupidity lost me my first brand new sofa ever (destroyed – frame and all); the living room carpet (entirely ripped out); parts of walls; the seat, metal foot pegs, wiring and other costly parts of my dad’s Harley; the lawnmower and the list goes on – all within an hour or two.

For the record, my wolfhound never had digestive problems (other than the occasional dish cloth that had to be helped out of his rear end) and x-rays never revealed any metals or foreign objects. He was also never punished for these episodes, much to the dismay of some because he was never caught in the act and most importantly, it was my fault, not his. And yes, he had many chew toys and rawhide bones.

3) Do not let a wolfhound puppy run, not even a little. Some breeders advise that it is safe to let them run after their platelets have sealed at approximately eighteen months of age. My next hound will not run until he’s full grown. This may sound extreme but a wolfhound’s growing skeleton is extremely fragile, which I learned the hard way.

Riser’s spine did not grow correctly with the worst consequence being an extreme narrowing of the cervical spine disc space between C6 and C7. Veterinarians assured me this was not my fault and that his spine just happened to have grown incorrectly. Even if I could not have prevented this entirely I doubt that it was likely to have been as bad if I had never let my wolfhound run freely. I had not been reckless but I clearly risked too much. That is a burden that will stay with me forever.

It was Riser’s need of a spinal surgery that he couldn’t have because of a heart condition (valve regurgitation, or heart murmur, and atrial enlargement) which he was on medication for, that was his demise. I  made the decision to end his suffering at just over three years old. It was the hardest, most heart wrenching and least selfish decision I’ve ever had to make.

4) ECHOCARDIOGRAM!!! Say it with me now: echocardiogram. At least once a year. I couldn’t possibly stress this enough. Guaranteed, your wolfhound’s gentle heart will fail him if none of the many known health issues associated with the breed don’t get him first.

In conclusion, dear reader, assuming you actually read this far, if you’re willing to provide the love and level of care required to keep a wolfhound happy, healthy and safe I guarantee you it will be worth your while. I love all animals and especially dogs, dear reader, but there is none that can compare to the magnificent Irish Wolfhound.

My family might tell you that Riser imposed his big self on their clean home and peaceful lives. What they really mean to say is that he imprinted his large, beautiful spirit on their unsuspecting hearts forever.

What do you have to do to earn the love of an Irish Wolfhound? Nothing. To deserve it? Everything you possibly can.

Riser's Last Walk