Epilogue: Finnegan, our Goonish boy (27/3/10 - 5/10/12)

An Irish Wolfhound takes over your house, your life and your heart.  They are huge in body, heart and personality, once they've adopted you they will follow you to the ends of the earth ignoring the rest of the world.
For an extortionate amount of money we 'rescued' Finnegan aged just over four months.  He had spent his early days in a concrete and wire compound being trained to the show ring but he was going to be too big - yes he really was that large.

This is him with his breeder aged 10 weeks.

 When we got him home he didn't know what the television was, why hair dryers made all that noise, why radios talked, and he never got over his fear of the snake (the cable) that followed the noisy blowy beast that sucked things up off the floor (the hoover), although The Mother Bean says he followed it around watching it intently to make sure it didn't attack her.  It took months to get him to accept the car although evenutally he would walk in as soon the tailgate was opened. With patience and lots of gentling he gradually grew used to life in a house.

Puppy hound on his bag in the sitting room.

And he loved 'his girls', Juno tried to teach him his manners but didn't really have the patience and was slightly worried about being knocked over so she did pull her punches; etiquette training fell to Maia who on more than one occasion came away with a mouthful of ruff.  Hebe just adored her big mate and together they would cause chaos, careering around the house and garden chasing each other, 'mulberry bushing' around the dining table as we're trying to eat until someone (usually us but occasionally one of them) would call a halt and Finn would lie flat out whilst Hebe would curl up and lean against his belly with his hips acting as a pillow.

Let sleeping dogs lie

We started to introduce him to the outside world which was even more scary. It took all of his first summer with us and into the autumn to get him used to cars, buses and motorbikes although he was always wary of them especially if a noisy one approached from behind. We would saunter up into the village and stand and talk with Kevin on the car park until Finn got fed up and lay down letting the vehicles pass him by without shying away every time one moved.
Everyone who saw him wanted to say hello but he would back off, we had to explain that he was only a baby and to approach him carefully never putting your hand over his head. Eventually he did learn to stand there and let people talk to him all the while looking at you with a "must I really" expression on his face.
He was a real mummy's boy and 'whiffled' up your face to say hello.  He loved having the office in the house and would greet everyone with a sniff, a waving tail and probably a soggy beard!  If the door was closed he would batter at it until he gained entry but after a quick head count and a check of the tops and recycling bin to see if there was anything worth stealing he would return to the house and his life of leisure - Finnegan was only ever a reluctant, occasional office hound although he did have to check every package that arrived.

Poor boy never really stood a chance, in hindsight we can see that his problems began when he was just over a year old when his skin broke out with pyoderma which we treated with Katie's herbs after an allergy test came back negative for everything except a slight sensitivity for rice. Then he ate the bottle top (which we now think might have been the first flare up in his guts).  He had a dodgy tum and would pick up whatever bug was going round, regularly got the 'splats' which he mostly did down the yard thank goodness, we went through several kilos of slippery elm and multiple jars of honey. He struggled whenever he'd had a good run, getting windy and more splats.

He didn't help himself being an inveterate thief, everything (and I mean everything) had to be above head height to be out of wolfhound range, all kitchen worktops cleared, nothing left on the table, even the mantlepiece in the sitting room was within range and, according to Finn, fair game.  He could smell a tissue in a pocket from across the room and became a really good pick pocket.  Ash trays were to be inspected and the contents to be snuffed across the room.  The office recycling bin was checked and any little shredding or post-it was carefully extracted before he skipped off to munch, giving himself away in the light, delicate skip out of the door!  The notice in the office kitchen read "Think Finnegan, Description of a Wolfhound: legs like a giraffe, the reach of a not so small elephant, the digestion of a race horse and the appetite of alley cat."  As if a long neck was not enough he had no clue where his feet were and as for his tail, well, it was light years away and would clear low table (or even dining tables) in one long sweep, Finnegan would turn round at the noise of the tea cups hitting the floor with an expression of "what did you do that for?" and then a keen eye for anything vaguely consumable (not necessarily edible). 

Upside down was a favourite sleeping position:
kangarooney hound

He found the outside world fascinating, if a little scary, and would spend hours watching out of the window barking at those turtles that walked by (people with rucksacks), waving his tail at friends (not that they could see it although he wasn't aware of that) and leaving great streaks of wolfhound tongue and nose prints. He bounced up to greet everyone at the door and promptly backed off when they spoke to him.  His house, garden and road were to be protected against all invaders and his people even more so with his great baying barks rattling the rafters, on a clear day when he was in conversation with dogs further down the road you could hear him when standing outside the post office.

 Hounds are well known for not being as bright as Labradors (well, who is? asks Hebe) and Finnegan must be the only dog to have been run over by a stationery car, read this chapter here.
But for all that he was not as green as he was Irish looking and was quite capable of working out how to get at the food, the scraps he wasn't allowed, how to nick Hebe's toys (and destroy them when no one was looking!).  If the kitchen water dish was empty or the contents not to his liking he would head off into the office kitchen for a drink, opening doors and nudging curtains aside to get there.  Some things fascinated him.  When he was a young hound in attempting to take a dropped ball back out of the water dish he discovered he could blow bubbles. After that, for quite a while, he would approach the dish as if he was going to drink but then pat the edge with a foot to make ripples and small waves which he would then bite before finally taking a deep breath and plunging his whole muzzle into the dish and blowing out of his nose making bubbles which if he blew hard enough would explode over the side of the dish to soak the floor.  If the bubbles weren't flooding the tiles enough for his liking he would deliberately tip up the dish with a foot.  However, he didn't like water, either puddles or rain.  He would stand on the back step under cover looking at the falling rain and turn with a "must I really go out there?" expression or if it was particularly heavy a "you must be kidding, I'm not going out there, no way, no how" before returning inside until finally his 10gallon bladder was too full even for him.  Upon his return he would dry himself off on the furniture, the girls, the floor, people anything but the nice warm towel which was waiting over for him the aga rail. 

Despite all that he was a typical wolfie - in other words bone idle!  He took over the four-seater sofa and claimed it as his.  It's ever so empty now.

Oh, it's such a hard life being a hound, it's exhausting!

Sleep well our foolish, goonish boy.

Finnegan: the final chapter

It was too good to last. 
Last Monday evening Finnegan went down hill rapidly; at tea time he was throwing bags around and trying to chase labradors but by the end of University Challenge he was in pain, after a phone consultation we tried easing his symptoms with some metacam but it didn't work so we had a swift dash across the moors (in the dark and pouring rain) for stronger meds.  He had a very restless night (and so did we, I don't do well with sleep deprivation!) and on Tuesday we saw Katie for the next phase of more meds including a quick refresher course on injecting dogs so he could have painkillers every four hours, although these took the edge off he was still uncomfortable and would not stop pacing. He was admitted for sedation and 'knock-out' drops to get him over the hump.  These did seem to work and before long he was up and about again but not really eating properly so he stayed in Pickering for a little while longer adopting Katie as his personal attendant. By Thursday he was looking for us, towing Katie around the garden and the waiting room and generally wanting to come home again. He was delighted to get back home and see his girls, going down the yard to mark it again with large wolfhound sized puddles and several dumps, he spent most of the day looking for food and gazing out of the window. Friday morning he started with the stretching and belching, another phone consultation and I was belting off into town for buscopan which did the trick and he settled.  He had a lovely peaceful afternoon dreaming about I know not what but it involved nose wrinkling and feet twitching. Unfortunately, something happened at just before five and he went into shock, another dash to Pickering where a couple of tests to try to find a possible cause came back within normal ranges while the poor boy was going downhill with every passing minute.  We took the decision that enough was enough and he shambled into his own Room 2, lay down on his bed and went to sleep.

Hound update

Finnegan progressed well, started playing with Hebe again and I never thought I'd be pleased to see him try to pick up a labrador by a back leg! We increased his food and steadily added more eukanuba.  But Finnegan's tummy really doesn't like eukanuba. Over the weekend his ear starts flooding again and by Monday 24th and he's yawning and stretching, both clear indicators of tummy pain and then we notice he's licking his front leg which is red - his skin's flaring up too.  I gave him a full dose of prokinetics which helped, Tuesday morning he seems quite bright and happy but we decreased the quantity of euk however an hour later he's unhappy, stretching, yawning and flat.  More prokinetics.  He's hungry for lunch but we decide no more euk, meat, some left over potatoes and fish only.  I phone Eastgate and Katie agrees that we'll get his allergy tests done as soon as possible, we don't want to risk it any longer but not today, it's the middle of the autumn storm and the roads are awash - and we'll go back to bland food. All Tuesday he's clingy, in pain but still interested in the world and food, Tuesday evening he's being a lapdog.  Wednesday dawns and Finn's a bit brighter but we're not taking any chances, more pills before heading across the moor for his latest blood tests - which proved slightly difficult, he's fed up of being stuck with pins but we did manage to extract the required red stuff, good job he's such a big dog otherwise he'd have run out by now! We have the results of the first battery of tests, his b-vits are normal which means that although his guts are inflamed they are actually working; his thyroid is normal too, so that's double phew.  We invest in some ZD to add to his winalot instead of the euk. He's eating well but by Thursday morning we're now reaching the 24hour mark since he last did a dump, his guts have slowed down again and that filling is causing him pain.  At lunch time a saunter round the garden and he decides that perhaps he is overfull and getting rid of some might be the right idea and a large deposit is made on the lawn, he's much happier after that.
We've now reached Saturday and he's full of beans today and most of those are bad ones!  We're happy with his progress, he's eating well, he's happy and at last beginning to put on some weight.
The sun is shining, the dog is happy and Tigers are winning (even Hebe has gone to sleep in the sun and not hidden away from the oval ball). What could be better?

Finnegan has lost a few more of his lives.

I don't know how many lives a dog has, nine like a cat? or more?
However many it may be Finnegan is now short of a few more.

About two months ago we began to get a little concerned about the hound, he seemed to be panting a bit more than we thought he should but it was hot so were not too concerned.  But then he seemed listless and a bit down and was he loosing weight too?  So an appointment was made to visit Katie for a checkup, we queried heart and possible lungs, perhaps Maia bronchitis was contagious?  Upon examination Katie couldn't really find anything, maybe a faint hint of a heart murmur, maybe his lungs were working harder than they should.  With his family history we all decided that an x-ray of his chest would be a good place to start and an appointment was made for the following Tuesday for Finnegan to be the guinea pig for Eastgate's super new digital x-ray machine.
But Finnegan took things into his own paws.  On Sunday he was really down, flaked out on the sofa and then he turned his nose up at his tea.  Now, he may be a hound but he thinks he's a labrador and not eating is seriously not good.  Then at just after nine he was sick, bringing up his breakfast which was very sour having been in his stomach all day.  He didn't want his bed time biscuit and was sick again overnight.  Consequently at 8:30 on Monday 3 September we were on our way to Pickering with a very poorly hound.  He was booked into his private room, initial tests again showed nothing in particular.  Last time he'd been like this (last year) fluid therapy got him through it so that was the initial treatment along with blood tests for cardiac enzymes and a heart scan.  We'd see how he went and then maybe x-rays, but we were all thinking he'd eaten something and got it stuck.  No significant improvement but no marked deterioration either, the heart scan had shown that his cardiac muscles were doing what they should and functioning well.  X-rays on Tuesday to see if there was anything obvious.

There was.

But not what we thought, the lower part of his guts were full of gas.  Katie phoned at lunchtime to say he was on his way to theatre and she's let us know how he was doing later that afternoon.
It didn't look good, his colon was distended and virtually black and the whole GI tract was in stasis. No foreign object was found and biopsies were taken.  He came through the surgery well and began to recover.  We went to see him on Wednesday taking boiled chicken and pasta (we're old hands at this).  He didn't like being at the vets and wasn't really eating properly, sulking Katie called it.  Thursday afternoon he was deemed fit enough to come home.  He was delighted to see us and pleased to be coming home.  He couldn't settle and paced back and forth until we thought if you don't lie down you'll fall down.  He has so many pills he should rattle, this is just one dose!

Nearly two dozen across three doses in one day. Now he was home he was eating well but hadn't done a dump yet.
His first check up was on Friday morning with another booked for Saturday morning.  Friday morning he was up and about again, quite bright and interested in life, he left a lovely deposit on the car park and Rob declared him well enough not to need to come back on Saturday but we would be back on Tuesday for Katie to check on his progress, stitches and hopefully have bloods and biopsy results.   Huge sighs of relief all round.

Once again the blasted hound took things into his own paws.  Saturday morning he ate his breakfast and seemed to be doing OK but by 11:30 he wouldn't take his pills in juicy chicken morsels and I ended up putting them down his throat.  By three he was burning up and radiating heat.  Emergency call to Eastgate, Helen would come and look at him. His temperature at half past three was 40.4 (should be 38.5).  We would trying bringing his temp down with cool damp towels and fans, he had a shot of loxicom too.  It didn't work, at five his temp was still 40.1, this was relayed to Helen and as expected once again we were back to Eastgate.  Helen and Laura met us, Finnegan slouched into room two and lay down on his already prepared bed. It was decided that they would open him up again there and then. We hugged him and once again said our goodbyes.  Helen phoned at around nine to say he had come through the surgery well; it was, as we'd feared, peritonitis, the colonic biopsy had come apart and was leaking.  They'd cleaned him up, checked the rest of his guts which were pink and looking healthy (one good thing), repaired the leaking biopsy site and double stitched it back up (I think they would have superglued and stapled it too if that would have helped) and left him with a open drain - in other words only partially sewed him up again to let all the foul smelling the fluid leak out.  When he was running the extreme temperature his scrotal skin had become inflamed and damaged so we'd agreed to a castration at the same time as the surgery, as being the quickest and easiest solution.  Because Laura decided on using the open drain technique it was thought that a surgical wound so close to the 'grot' was not a good idea so Finn was left intact (for now).  The next 24 hours were critical.  He was left in peace with IV fluids, anti-everything and painkillers.  His dressings were changed every two hours (even through the night).  Helen phoned early Sunday morning to say he was still with us and looking a little brighter, he'd been out in the garden and done a puddle but they weren't going to offer any food yet.  She'd phone again later with another update, which she did at just after six.  He was improving, looking much brighter and had taken a little turkey, everyone was very pleased with him.  Once again she'd phone in the morning. Monday (10/9) the improvements continued, the drainage fluids were decreasing in volume, looking much cleaner and no longer smelly.  Tuesday morning Katie's back on duty and takes over Finnegan's case again.  The bloods have come back and he's in the lowest risk group for cardiac events, you can never rule it out but it looks unlikely.  The biopsies are back too showing that he has Irritable Bowel Disease but throughout the whole GI tract, she didn't take a sample from his stomach but looking at how far up the tract the IBD is showing it seems likely and sensible to assume his stomach is affected too.  In addition the gut is highly reactive, so he's allergic to something. As if that's not enough on the microscopic level he's got 'leaky guts' meaning that proteins (including the allergens) escape his digestive system and infiltrate the whole body.  On the positive side there is no evidence of any tumours or any markers either.  And even better they're planning to sew him up again and do the castration.  He came through this latest surgery well but by the evening his ear is pouring with green pus, it wasn't yesterday or this morning but now...
All things being equal we can collect him on Wednesday.
Wednesday (12/9) lunchtime Katie phones to say he's raring to come home.  No poo yet but he's eating well and although he's listening to classic fm is just lying around being bored and she thinks he'll recover better at home.  Needless to say we're there within an hour and he's home.  Which so far is where he's stayed giving Mum her favorite birthday pressie of a normal dump on the yard (well she's strange, plus she's his official poo monitor, I deal with pills and gunky ears!).

He's steadily improved, eaten more, gained more energy, shown more interest in the world and is even trying to play with labradors again.  We had a watchful 48 hours after he started dumping again but he came through without any further disruption.  He had his stitches out on Thursday, having healed well, and more bloods taken because now we start trying to work out the root cause and look at future management - Dr House is in the house!  We're weaning him back onto his normal euk and bonios so that in a few weeks when all the usual proteins are back in his system we can do an allergy test.  We're all hoping it comes back for something easily excludeable, like wheat, easier for dogs than for people.
And yesterday's light bulb, OMG moment with the plaster may have a role to play or there again it could be a complete red herring.

Watch this space...

And what do you do on Saturday?

I'll bet it wasn't to chisel plaster off two walls!

We think Finnegan may have been eating the ancient plaster (and 1910's paint - eek) in his dog house - there goes another one or three of his lives.
So today I've taken all the loose, damaged and scratched plaster off two walls and painted over other dodgy looking bits and where the original green paint is showing through.

Hebe is so excited, "look, Finnegan, it's PINK!"  and "Oh, and so am I - oops."


It's not pink just for Hebes, it was the first colour I found that wasn't green or white and we want to see if the hooligan tries to munch any more and to stop any attempts to lick the (probably poisonous) green paint.

Oh yes, and meet our resident Porpoise - it gets cross, swims off its wall and gets into the middle of conversations. (take that apart and put it back in a different order and....).  This wall has been used for years for laying off brushes, thus the odd collection of colours and somehow one of my blues took on the shape of a dolphin; having got the head the tail wasn't entirely accidental.

We're not singing in the rain anymore

 OK, enough is enough. We're fed up now.  Even Hebe is wondering when it will all stop.

It's not a glorious feeling and although we might still be singing, we're not happy about it and certainly no longer dancing in the puddles, even small black is carefully walking around the edge.

I think I'm wet enough now, Bean.
Do we have to go out again?

I'm a hound, I don't do wet.

He's only done it again

Further adventures in the life of Finnegan the Foolish Hooligan.
He's caught the top of his tail on something. It's oozy, gooey and gunky, nice. And now has been clipped to expose the damage for cleaning and treatment.

One raw, gooey patch - not for the faint hearted!

Now for the rest of his medical bulletin (oh, yes there's more); he's got an appointment with Eastgate's new toy next Tuesday - they're getting a digital x-ray machine.  Katie has booked his private room out because he'll need a spot of tranquillizer to lie still for long enough, we're looking at his heart and lungs and being such a huge beast one shot doesn't cover the whole picture - it could be three and possibly a scan too. Like Maia he's huffing and puffing, but unlike her he's only two and is also a little lethargic, plus his bloodline isn't too great on cardiac matters.  Fortunately Laura has just finished a cardiac course so he'll be in the best of hands, with his very own Mandy to soothe his furry brow and stop him destroying the door!
Oh, you stupid boy - who'd have a hound?