Dad’s Diary

In those dim and distant pre-lockdown days, I remember having the liberty to take non-essential journeys. One such frivolous expedition saw me set out on a beautiful spring morning for Tipperary. When the kids asked where I was going, I fobbed them off with an excuse. In fact, I was going to see a man about a dog.

My wife and I are dog lovers, both having previously owned dogs. However, since we married, our work and family commitments had taken us from Cork to Dublin to England and back again for the course of a decade. Between night shifts, small babies and living in rental properties, it had never been the right time to get a dog. Now that we were home for good, it felt like the right time to take the plunge.

de open, knowing all the joy that a dog can bring to a family – but also knowing all the disruption and mess a puppy brings. We’d been researching the best breeds for children, and stumbled upon a cross-breed Irish Wolfhound with standard poodle – a ‘Wolfadoodle’ – known for its calm temperament, good nature and trainability. When a litter became available, it seemed like now or never.

It’s a remarkable moment when you choose a puppy from a litter, for whichever one you take home will become a member of the family and a companion for years to come. Out of the melee, one pup came towards me, seeming familiar. I took him up in my arms, where he was relaxed and affectionate. This was the one. I then double checked that it was a boy, for we have an imbalance of the sexes in our household. I have three daughters, a wife, a mother-in-law and two female cats. Against this horde stand myself and my son – badly outnumbered and in need of reinforcements.

I felt awful taking him away from his litter, but he was ready for the next stage in his life. The journey was long, and there were occasional whimpers from the back, which I attempted to soothe. When I arrived home, my wife and kids were playing in the garden in the sunshine. She assembled them at the front door to tell them we had news. When the squeals of excitement eventually subsided, we told them to be calm as we opened the boot to reveal their new puppy. He seemed glad to see us. He was certainly very happy to get out of the car and begin exploring the garden.

In the weeks since his arrival, the dog – named Seamus by common consent – has already become a much-loved member of the family. Loved by all except the cats, that is. During his first week, my son slept on the kitchen floor next to him so that he would not be lonely after his littermates at night, and to let him out when nature calls. My wife and I have been busy clearing up the inevitable accidents, but he has responded very well to training for such a young pup. Within a week he could sit, come and go down on command.

He is a good companion and playmate for the kids, and everyone enjoys stroking him and being greeted by his enthusiastically wagging tail in the morning. He is teething and has chewed everything from shoes to sofas to wallpaper. We’ve gone through vast quantities of kitchen roll and disinfectant. Our holiday plans will forever be complicated by his presence. Yet all this is overtaken by the joy and fun he brings to the family, and the simple pleasure of taking him for a walk before breakfast each morning, and watching him revel in the fresh new day.