Imagine having a new baby in the house, and at six months, it has grown to 100 pounds. When they hit puberty, people talk about children suddenly shooting up in height and weight and being clumsy. The difference is that the child has matured mentally to know he is a teenager and though frustrated, understands he has grown, not so with the Irish Wolfhound. He tries to go under the furniture he was able to fit beneath just weeks before, knocking off anything that may have been sitting on it. He tried to slip through gaps between furniture, having been able to a week earlier, only to find he knocks them over. Then he tries to get into your lap, where he once sat comfortably being petted, only to find he can barely get his front legs onto it.
This is part of the joy of owning an Irish Wolf Hound. In every sense of the word, they are still puppies, yet they are larger than nearly all other dogs when they reach six months. I marvel at the speed of Feargus’ growth. I laugh as I see him trip up the deck stairs when coming in from the yard. When he turns his joyous smiling face to me, my heart melts, loving every second of being a puppy. Unlike a child, these days will rapidly pass. I will enjoy every minute while I can.
