Gwinn

I shall foot it
Down the roadway in the dusk,
Where shapes of hunger wander
And the fugitives of pain go by.
I shall foot it
In the silence of the morning,
See the night slur into dawn,
Hear the slow great winds arise
Where tall trees flank the way
And shoulder toward the sky.

The broken boulders by the road
Shall not commemorate my ruin.
Regret shall be the gravel under foot.
I shall watch for
Slim birds swift of wing
That go where wind and ranks of thunder
Drive the wild processionals of rain.

The dust of the traveled road
Shall touch my hands and face.

Carl Sandburg

Ruairi (Rory) was Don's boy. Pick male from our 2nd litter, at 13 weeks, Ruairi fell while playing with his siblings and severely injured his stifle. Because of his age and the rapid growth of Wolfhound puppies, surgery was not an option. Faced with a life of constant pain, euthanasia was suggested. Ruairi was already in our hearts, so this was not an option for us. Instead we tried hydrotherapy and each week Ruairi showed more strength and less pain. He recovered 100%! He moved with power and drive and was true coming and going. His first show was at 13 months of age. He won 3rd place in the Bred-By- Exhibitor Hound Group. Since then he won first place in Wolfhound Specialty classes and again won 3rd place in the Bred-By- Exhibitor Hound Group at the Cascade Hound Specialty. We looked for great things from this young boy. At age 2 he split his tail and we almost lost him. We spent months trying to save the tail and then then trying to save him. He rallied, the tail was perfect again, and he picked up more points. He lacked one major to finish and was in his prime. Then a strange affliction hit. He was diagnosed with Ulcerocrustous Spongioparatotic Lichenoid; basically he was auto immune. Very little is known about this affliction. Luckily neither he nor his sister were ever bred. We battled it for 13 months and appeared to be winning. He spent his last day in my lap, happy, while I groomed him. A couple of hours later, he suddenly collapsed and it was evident that we were losing him. To spare him more agony we rushed him to the vet and released him from this world. The prednisone he was on killed him, not the disease, ironically. There was never a sweeter or gentler hound.