On indefinite hiatus, with so much gratitude

Bryn and Mommy at CRF

I haven't posted much here because the summer seemed like a roller coaster - from incredible highs like being able to go out without a mask to the worst lows like Bryn's pneumonia, Ciaragh's surgery for a burst cyst, and on and on and on.

But we persisted, my furry threesome, my husband and I...and continue on for however long the five of us will be a family. We are taking each day with our 9.5-year-old with gratitude. We are working toward Ciaragh making a return to being a Rennie hound. We are following orders from our Combat Wombat, Col. Willow-Pickle
. 

Thanks to everyone that has loved our Bryndled Beastie and her packmates. I want to leave you with a memory that just came up for me on social media, a vision of how I will always remember my time doing faires with my Best Rennie Hound, Bryn:

Possible best moment yesterday - a couple came into the barn to meet Bryn and I could see tears already in her eyes as she asked Bryn's name. She said that it had been three years since she lost her boy and she just missed him so, like it it was only yesterday that he died at the age of 9.  The more she petted Bryn the more tears rolled down her cheeks and I finally said that I felt like I should hug her - if she was a hugger. She was and we did and she whispered "Thank you." 

Our world is so big and fast and loud and bright that we go through the motions a lot of the time. This is true of me at faire - her name, breed, and age just roll off my tongue with barely any thought. I tell the same jokes about the breed hunting wolves, stag, and the English. I keep my fingers wound into her fur to let her know I'm there and she and I just make it through. 

But that bit of interaction with a stranger - who wasn't a stranger, she was Wolfhound Strong even though it was breaking her heart - broke me a little, and not just because I was apparently headed for a migraine. And it broke me in the best way, and it makes all the biting wind and ill mannered children worth it. I hope seeing Bryn and Barley helped her heart a little bit, because it helped mine a lot.

Sláinte and go raibh maith agat, from Our Bryndled Beastie (and Mommy)

 

 

Thoughts from Bryn's Mommy on her Retirement

This is right before I introduced the photographer to my Clobberpaws.

This past Saturday was Bryn's official retirement from performing and I want to share my side of this journey if you'll indulge me. The GARF cast was so incredibly kind to us, and we owe a debt of gratitude for the good wishes, hugs, and the gingersnaps/turkey leg-shaped stuffy toy.

We had no idea what we were getting into when I brought home that 5mo old Jack Russell in a greyhound-sized body, but Anne and I packed her up and took her to the faire the very next day, hoping we would at least wear her out.

What we actually did was create for her a home away from home, where everyone adored her. No one said she was too big or loud. No one worried that she was in the way, or that she would break something. Everyone there quickly became part of Bryn's Faire Family, and they loved her and made a fuss over her - and that is something every rehomed dog needs, I think. 

Don't get me wrong, Bryn knows that we adore her and that we would do anything for her. She knows that she is home and will never be given up again. She knows that even when she chews up the oven mitt or flips over her bowl like it's a table in a bar, we will always be there. But I think it was a new thing for her to meet people that sometimes, quite literally fell to their knees in front of her, hands either outstretched and trembling or pressed against their mouths in sheer disbelief that she was real.

I get that way sometimes too if I'm honest. I was looking at her yesterday and thinking of all the hands that wound their way down her back, fingers tangling in her fur as faces softened and eyes smiled right along in wonder and gratitude that they got to know her...and I was feeling indulgently lucky that I got to sit there on the sofa with her or have her nose nudge under my elbow while I'm driving. I am irreparably hers.

And while I'm not sure where my faire journey will lead me next, I know that it will be with a bit less stress because I won't be worried about her...is it too hot for her? Are her legs getting stiff? Will she forget her training and nip at someone? Is all of this too stressful on her elderly body? 

But as I was walking her out to the car Saturday afternoon, my heart soared and shattered into pieces. I overheard patrons as we passed and, for once, did not stop to greet them. "That's an Irish Wolfhound!" "Those dogs are amazing." "Such magical hounds!" 

"Oh, that one's name is Bryn, I met her here years ago. I'm so glad she's here again."

As much as I wanted to acknowledge that last one, I couldn't because it was impossible to remain in character and not be Bryn's human who frequently becomes overwhelmed with how incredibly fast the last eight years have flown by...

Thank you, my Bryndled Beastie, for all the times you tried to chew through my seatbelt on the way to Faire, and for all the chai lattes that you knocked out of my hand as we wandered the lanes. Thank you for the food I had to replace for patrons after you snatched it off the tables. Thank you for the raised ears and BOOFS at the jousting horses. Thank you for making me interesting, and for letting me show you off to hundreds of thousands of patrons at four Faires in three states.

Thank you. I promise to let you nap as long as you like now. You've earned it, Brynka-Boo, a thousand times over.

Sharing the Wolfie Love...

This is our friend and fellow HOEF cast member, Oberon. We are so proud of him - he came through physical and emotional struggles to become a valued member of the HOEF cast. #WOLFHOUNDSTRONG

One more with Ciaragh...

Miss Emily caught Ciaragh growing into a real Rennie Hound, right there before our eyes.
She healed lots of hurting hearts that day by just looking into people's eyes. 

So, Ciaragh here...

I promised Mommy that I would never run away again and yet, here we are. Somebody explain to her that I'm not a pillow, please?

Sometimes...

My humans are weird. Lucky for me, I was at home when those shenanigans kicked off.
But I still don't understand why Auntie Shannon is a ghost...?

She is STILL not wrong...

She is OH SO RIGHT. Love you, Miss Lisa.

It is not my fault...

...that Mommy is making that face. Not this time, anyway.