Irish Wolfhound... minds me... Years ago, my landlord got this pup for a watchdog about five months before I moved in to the old farmhouse. He never walked it. What a shame. At five months, this Newf (father) and Shepherd (mother) mix was over a hundred pounds, had long legs and coal black hair. I re-named him "Bear" and I walked him every day.

On our daily walk, we crossed a fairly long bridge with three foot high concrete barriers on the sides. One day, when Bear was about six months old, we were on the bridge and I spied a fellow walking his Irish Wolfhound along the river road we were approaching. Bear and I got to the end of the bridge when the fellow and his dog were about a hundred feet away. I was apprehensive.

Bear spotted the Wolfhound and I got ready. When the Wolfhound spotted Bear he raised his head and stared intently. Bear began barking wildly, made a mad dash to the end of his leash, and fetched up. Despite my command to heal, he continued to bark and fight the leash.

The old leather leash let go and Bear burst forward like a pony out of the gate. He ran about twenty feet before he locked up all four wheels and slid to a stop in the gravel. He looked over his shoulder at me as if to say, "Aren't you going to stop me?" The Wolfhound let out one little snort and Bear, tail between his legs, ran back past me, turned and wedged himself betwen my legs.

Now, as if the fellow and the passersby (and the Wolfhound perhaps) weren't laughing hard enough, Bear began to bark again, at which point I yelled, "Shut up!!" and cuffed him, gently, of course. I led him back home by the collar and I could still hear people laughing when I got to the other end of that long bridge.