(or how we found lifelong happiness with wolfhounds)
We'd always wanted a dog, but didn't consider ourselves in a position to have one until it was possible for Anne to work part-time. For years we debated and argued over which breed we would one day have, getting books from the library (no Internet in those dark days) and quizzing any dog owners we met. We knew we wanted a large breed, and thought we might like more than one (although it is on record that at one point Anne said, "If we decide on one of those great big wolfhounds, then we're only having one - watch my lips!!!").
". . . we're only having one - watch my lips!"
Although we didn't know what breed our dog would be, we'd already chosen the name 'McGinty' if it should turn out to be a wolfhound (a boxer was going to be 'Cooper' which gives some idea of how long ago this was) and we were already speculating about what a great character this imaginary wolfhound would be. There was no doubt in our minds that he would be a very special dog - that he could turn out to be just ordinary was inconceivable.
McGinty - always destined to be special.
Some six years after we first discussed the idea of having a dog we visited Crufts, armed with a short-list of possible breeds, and spent a wonderful and exciting four days touring the halls at the National Exhibition Centre, talking to breeders and generally making a nuisance of ourselves. Each day, we visited the 'Discover Dogs' hall, where examples of every breed are on show, and each day we found ourselves spending more and more time with the wolfhounds, and asking more and more questions.
At the end of the four days it was decision time. We pored over our notes, argued the pros and cons of different breeds, and finally made a decision - we would have a bouvier des Flandres. Although very taken with the wolfhounds, we felt that as first time owners we would be better suited by a more easily trainable dog, and one who wouldn't reach such a huge size. Besides, we really quite liked the the bouvier - a great, shaggy hearth-rug of a dog.
Discover Dogs, Crufts 1994 - Irish wolfhounds . . .
. . . and bouvier des Flandres. No contest, really.
And so began the search for McGinty's breeder, and the rest, as they say, is history . . .
"You wouldn't really have had another breed, would you, Uncle Paul?"
Darcy's sister, Siofra, asks the $64,000 question.
We all have to make difficult decisions sometimes.
Back home, friends and family were waiting to know how we'd got on and to hear which breed we'd decided on. We excitedly told the story of our trip, ending with our decision to have a bouvier. It was Anne's sister who asked why we were having a bouvier, when, according to her, it was perfectly clear from our talk that we had fallen in love with wolfhounds. We explained that we were being sensible and choosing a breed that would be easier to handle and train . . . and as we spoke we looked at each other and we could both see that Debbie was absolutely right - we were being too sensible, and we knew then that in this we had to be ruled by our hearts and not our heads.
"We'll have a dog one day", we said,
A proper one, mind, with a big, handsome head.
He'll be so special, our pride and joy.
(There seemed no question it would be a boy.)
We read all the books; talked to every dog friend;
Spent four days at Crufts - questions without end.
"How much does he eat?" "How big does he get?"
"Will he come when I call?" "Will he bite our vet?"
Bouviers, Briards, boxers and bassets -
We looked at them all and covered all facets.
From whippets to Danes, and the giant St Bernard,
Hell-bent on our quest we left no stone unturnèd. (Sorry!)
By the end of day four we were dog-tired and weary,
Our minds were frazzled, our eyes red and bleary.
Our heads were aching, and our feet in our shoes.
We were kids in a sweet-shop - which one to choose?
We thought the bouvier a sensible choice
For us middle-aged novices. Sorted! Rejoice!
But hang on a minute, this doesn't feel right,
We're confused and befuddled, a terrible plight.
We drew up long lists, all the pros and the cons,
What a waste of time that was - it all came out wrong.
Of the hundreds of dog breeds at Crufts '94
There was one, just one, that we couldn't ignore.
Each day, like a magnet, the 'Discover Dogs' stand
Where the wolfhounds hung out, drew us back, hand-in-hand.
We were totally smitten, in awe and agog,
Enchanted, enraptured - THIS was a dog!
The guy on the stall knew our goose was cooked,
He'd been there before, he could see we were hooked.
We put up no fight. We knew we were beaten.
By then it was simply - "Black, brindle or wheaten?"
We've never regretted the choice that we made
For sometimes in life due heed must be paid
To the call of the heart, not the voice in the head.
And to think - we'd be Torteval Bouviers instead!
