[I sent a part of this essay to the program 1A on NPR this morning, but it had to be short. If you have met an Irish Wolfhound, you know that there is nothing short in that experience, so here is the rest.]
Bryn (L) and Ciaragh (R)
When I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, my Irish Wolfhounds really saw me through it. This is my thank you to them...and don't worry, Willow-Pickle has her own story.
Ciaragh at GARF
Ciaragh (Keerah), my younger girl, was diagnosed with lymphoma shortly after I started chemo. At almost 7, she didn't make it through that battle, even though we were briefly on in the same chemo regimine, so when I rang that bell in Dec of 2023, I could feel her clobberpaws on my chest. You can see it in the video... It looks like I grabbed the rope and got knocked backwards a step or two. Our Cailín Ádh. We were the lucky ones, my Kiki-Bear.
Bryn after a successful heist at GARF
When I finished treatment in 2024, I didn't know it at the time but I was being given the time to focus on walking my 11.5 year old wolfhound Bryn home to the Bridge, as she deserved. Always there with her silly expression and snuggly nature, she made sure that I never gave up because someone had to feed her and give her treats when my husband was at work! Our Bryndled Beastie, who taught us so much about living with these giant, mythical dogs...and how to hide my snacks up HIGH.
Stanley, the Ken Doll of Irish Wolfhounds
And now that I'm navigating my new normal and new body, I have Stanley... He is a huge, gorgeous, blond boy who has learned to help me up off the floor and is just always there, carrying the souls of my two big girls in his beautiful caramel colored eyes. Our Bánbhuí Beastie...my sweet protector and buddy, here to lead me out of my sadness and into the backyard.
🍀
Go raibh míle maith agaibh, a mhadraí luachmhara. Is leatsa mo ghrá go léir.
I will be brief today because the song takes a lot of breath control. Give it a try! Also, it will forever remind my of my Irish Fae Dog, Bryn, who would thump her tail in time to this version.
O-ro the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o
O-ro the rattlin' bog, the bog down in the valley-o
And in that bog there was a hole, a rare hole, a rattlin' hole
With the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
And in that hole there was a tree, a rare tree, a rattlin' tree
With the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that tree there was a limb, a rare limb, a rattlin' limb
With the limb on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that limb there was a branch, a rare branch, a rattlin' branch
With the branch on the limb and the limb on the tree and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog
And the bog down in the valley-o.
(Repeat, adding a line each time)
Now on that branch there was a twig, a rare twig, a rattlin' twig.....
Now on that twig there was a nest, a rare nest, a rattlin' nest.....
Now in that nest there was an egg , a rare egg, a rattlin' egg.....
Now in that egg there was a bird, a rare bird, a rattlin' bird.....
Now on that bird there was a feather, a rare feather, a rattlin' feather .....
She started working at the Carolina Renaissance Festival the Sunday after Anne and I picked her up. "How old is she?" patrons would ask. I would say 5 months. "Oh, how long have you had her?" I would look at my arm like I was wearing a watch and say, "About 36 hours."
She was the queen of the Georgia Renaissance Festival, stealing sandwiches from under patron's noses and barking like crazy during the joust.
She even put up with me when we dressed up as Vikings at the Enchanted Chalice Faire.
She loved her brother from another mother, Bo, as much as her real brother Barley. But she was also madly in love with Barley's roommate, Charley, according to her Aunt Tamara.
She fell in love with Kathleen E. Lazenby and Robin Willoughby's Duke, so she laid on top of him to keep an eye on him. He wasn't a fan...
She got to pretend to be a Beezer at Auntie Shannon and Uncle Justin's house, but that didn't last long. They had far more energy.
Her first best friend was Anne and Damian's Boston, Millie. I bet when she got to the Bridge, Millie grabbed onto Bryn's underside (true story) and they went for a run.
She was a fairy dog who far outlived her usual lifespan, beating pneumonia when she was 9. And I hope she found our Daisy Mei Mei, who she loved more than anyone, Ciaragh, the epitome of enemies becoming best friends, my dad who probably laughed that deep laugh and clapped his hands, and Miss Heather, who helped me discover a wider world of Bryn's family, including her big sister, the Other Kiera as we called her here and her other Auntie Stacie.
Brynka Boo, being your Mama has been the honor of my life, as they say. Don't rush, but don't wait too long before sending us another breeze block noggin to love, eh?
Go maire tú chomh fada agus is mian leat, agus gan aon ní a bheith uait mar a mhaireann tú. Is breá liom tú, mo chailín lúide. Go raibh maith agat as a bheith linn.
The Rattlin Bog, as performed by the Craic - Bryn and I listened to this on the way to Faire and she'd wag her tail IN TIME to the music, no matter how fast it got. My rattlin (splendid) Irish Fae Girl...
