I was once asked how I had become interested in the Irish Wolfhound. I have the long version and the short version. My answer is a long one so please bear with me. My husband, Dick, was "City" raised (as in Manhattan, New York) and had once had a Saint Bernard for a pet. His toddler memory of that dog was of huge masses of hair and body and a wet chin. We eventually moved to our five acre ranch in Southern California in the late 60's and he commented that we now had the space for a Saint Bernard or an Irish Wolfhound. To which I said: "Over my dead body will you get a Saint into my house, but what's an Irish Wolfhound?" A few months later I had my first introduction to a magnificent male IW at a dog show. I was in LOVE!! In less than a year we had a couple of wonderful pet Irish Wolfhounds and they brought such pleasure to all of us--we've 7 kids between us (6 boys and a girl), so there were lots of people to be cuddled and cared for by our first hounds. We lost Bonnie to a fall off the mountain; Clyde was inconsolable for months. We did not then know of the bonds and attachments these hounds make, our lifestyle had sped up and we just did not think about getting Clyde a playmate...we were enough for him, I believed. In retrospect, however, he was not his "old" self after Bonnie's death. He was 7 when his frailties and spinal paralysis necessitated that he be released to The Rainbow Bridge.

Now, we were inconsolable. Children were in high school or off to colleges, Dick's job was as much social as it was work, my job kept me on the road 4 days a week, so there simply was no time to research for another hound. Finally, I discovered the Irish Wolfhound Rescue Trust, thinking I might adopt an older hound and not be "burdened" with puppyhood. I got on the list and I waited... and I waited... and I waited. I can smile at my frustrations now, but not then. Finally, I retired from the 8: to 5: workforce and could concentrate on getting us a dog. When it seemed we would never get a hound from the Trust, I called a number of breeders and got on their puppy buyer lists. Lo and behold, a lady in Texas had a nice show-quality male. But, I wanted a female, so I said, "No, thank you, we'll wait for a female." Another breeder called a couple of days later--she had a female puppy, but it was show quality, was I interested. Hey! What did I know about exhibiting? Absolutely nothing! But, what the heck, sure, send her along...the check's in the mail. Puppy to be sent in a month.

Suddenly, things really started moving. Another breeder in Arizona had a 16-week-old female--the stud fee puppy which she had to relinquish, was I interested. What the heck, sure, we'll be over next weekend. "Bring cash, we don't take checks." So, okay. We got Numero Uno on 4th of July weekend when the temperature was 110 in the shade...at 10 a.m. in the morning!! That little love leaped into the backseat of our Chrysler, curled up with her nose facing the air conditioner and stayed that way until we got back to California. Another "show quality" female. Hummm. What was I getting myself into? We're still a week from getting our other 10-week-old female when Dick says: "Call the lady in Texas and see if the male is still available." Say what?!! That would make three... all under 6 months old, and I had wanted an older hound so I did not have to go through the puppy mess. Ah, well. So, I called; yes, the male was still available and she could ship that weekend. I sent check; he came, all 12-weeks of him. The next weekend the other female came and, oh, I almost forgot this part. During all these negotiations, Dick had seen an ad in a newspaper: "Irish Wolfhound Puppies, $250 and up,.Six weeks old." He said I should go look at them and find out what a $250 IW looked like. Afterall, the three we had "in transit" were certainly more expensive than that! What to name them, hummm. Dick is a "punster" and he kept giving me such awful, off-the-wall things which simply did not fit the dignity of this breed. Then, he hit on it. Four hounds, 2 males and 2 females--you bet we were crazy. I'd never do it again that way. But, I digress. You know the Irish melody called "How are Things in Glocca Morra"? Sing these names to that tune: Howell, Tien-sen, Gloch and Moira? Ya dig it? I loved it and all four of them! Sadly, Gloch and Howie were neutered and re-homed after about two years. Gloch made height, Howie did not; Gloch had no coat; Howie was small-boned (he was our 250 dollar hound--oh, I forgot to tell you--yeah, I bought one). Howie showed well as a youngster, but Gloch never liked the ring. Moira became the world's most multi-titled bitch; Tien became our foundation bitch. You can see her picture on our Family Tree along with her progeny, et al. There is, of course, much more to the saga since our acquisition and breeding of other Sighthounds, but I think I'll leave you guessing. You'll have to call and get . . .

"the rest of the story" . . .

Update January 2011: Presented with AKC Award Breeder of Merit for Exemplary Commitment as Breeder of the Irish Wolfhounds.