insensibly — but oh! so swift. Swift as that swallow
which skims alone on high: so high, so small,
it seems neighbour to the moon which hangs,
pure and silent, impassive witness to the scene.
In the marsh cat-tails (now bloom'd) and grasses' whisks
stand — glowing spectres, creatures of the falling dark.
Time to turn back; now time to call my dog
whose vesper bell, alone, fills the silence of this hour:
Come 'round! — we're done.
K.M. 11/12/10
Festie
Hawklawn Silver Sixpence Sire:Innsegall Malery Dam: Shannonlee Ptarmigan Of Hawklawn Whelped: Aug. 15, 1988
Festie was the first of the Irish Red And White Setters at Caniscaeli. She is also the first of her breed to be registered by the Canadian K.C., first in Miscellaneous Class, then for full CKC registration
Festie is pictured here with some of her first litter of 8 puppies, born May 9, 1993 (Mother's day). This was Canada's first IR&WS litter.
Festie age 9, 1997
Achievements: Festie's most important achievements were as a mother, and a beloved member of our family. Her legacy is an important one to the breed. Her temperament was impeccable, and we are proud to have had her as our beginning in the breed.
Rare Breeds Ch. Shannonlee Fire Finch Sire: Vanders Special Vintage Dam: Shannonlee Marbled Teal Whelped: Aug. 25, 1994
n
Our Liam at home.
Liam was so light on his feet, gliding effortlessly out in front of me in the show ring. I have lost count of the number of judges who said to me, "Your dog floats". My final day showing was with Liam, who garnered a Best In Show (Rare Breeds) over approximately 85 other dogs. And he's handed down that breathtaking movement to many of his descendants.
Other snapshots in my memory are Liam trotting around the property carrying a cob of corn from the back fields. Or Liam throwing an empty plastic pop bottle into the air, springing up and catching it in his front feet.
Liam handed down his love of water to many of his descendants who also love to swim.
Liam was a sweet, friendly, soft, trusting boy who liked to be told he was the bestest boy in the whole world before he'd eat his meals.
He was without vice, a great ambassador for the breed at a time when there were very few of the breed in North America.
He was tragically killed on the road at only five years old. But his legacy lives on here in Canada and in our home.
Aug. 1994- Jan. 2000.
Caniscaeli Half A Sixpence Sire: Meudon Classic Dam: Hawklawn Silver Sixpence Whelped: May 9, 1993
Titch is Girl 6 that we chose to keep from Festie's first litter.
On May 9th, 1993, which was Mother's Day, five boys and three girls were born in this house. Dam was Hawklawn Silver Sixpence (Festie) and sire was Meudon Classic (Matt). This was Canada's first IR&WS litter on the books at the Canadian Kennel Club. From that litter we kept Caniscaeli Half A Sixpence, who was born sixth in the litter. All of the puppies in that first litter had their birth order in their registered names. We called our girl Titch, or more often Titch Mouse. Three weeks ago, Titch fell on the floor, just a few feet from where I am sitting now. I thought at the time that it was a stroke, but our vet believes she had a brain tumour. Something had happened last summer, very much like what may have happened three weeks ago, but Titch managed to rebound from that. This time she did not regain her strength. She has been fading, but she has seemed in no pain. Early this morning before dawn, Titch died peacefully in her sleep, here at home. We were blessed to have shared her company for almost thirteen years, we will all miss her in our family. But today it was time for her to leave us to be with her beloved mother Festie again.
1993-2006
Caniscaeli Song Of Sixpence Sire: Shannonlee Fire Finch Dam: Hawklawn Silver Sixpence Whelped: Oct. 31, 1996
Trea
Trea was born here, third born from our Festie's final litter--the Hallowe'en litter of 1996. She lived with us for twelve years, and was a good pet and a loving mother, an integral part of the fabric that makes up our family. This fall she was diagnosed with bone cancer, left front leg, distal radius. I always worry that we won't know the right time to let our dogs go. But today Trea told us the pain was more than the meds could help. She and I sat together this afternoon until it was time to let her go. Now she is whole again.
She was firstborn of our Festie's Labour Day litter- born at the vet's office, pulled out with forcepts at 3:00 in the morning. And with only a bloody tongue to show for the ordeal, she must have been meant for great things. And she was. She was sold as a puppy to Nancy Bingham on the east coast. Brammie came back to us to finish her Ch., and get her field title in Ontario. She then stayed here for her two litters that produced some very special IR&WS's. Then she came back to stay when she was ten, until she died. We are grateful to Nancy for allowing us to share Brammie's life with her. She was so dear to all of us.
Bramble had been doing so well, we thought she'd have at least one more summer of enjoyment. However, a few days ago, it became obvious that that was not to be. Yesterday was the day she needed to leave us. I could tell you so many things about her life, and how proud we are of what she's accomplished over the years. She loved to go places and do things. What is most important to us, though, has been her presence with us. I will miss her pretty self, her beautiful head that I have seen again on a great-granddaughter. But I will never see her own big dark eyes again, never again stroke her face when I put my hand down to her special place--the dogbed on the right beside my big chair. She leaves sisters and a brother, children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, many of whom have made noteworthy contributions to the breed. Some of them live here with us, and are loved for themselves. Her lines will continue in various countries around the world, which is as it should be.
But she leaves a hole here at home, that I know will be filled in the future by our memories of her.
Part of the routine at our house, is that sometime after the supper dishes are done, I will come into the computer room here. There are generally a selection of several dogs who come and go during the evening. But Tessa is always here with me when I am here. She usually is already on the couch behind me, when I arrive. If I turn around and smile at her, she will always smile back. If I laugh, she will laugh. If Tullia comes in, I will hear the "thonk, thonk, thonk" of Tessa's tongue as she washes Tulli's face for her. Tessa is the most motherly of R&W's and loves everybody, human or canine. If we are watching TV, or have company, she will be on the living room couch with us. Tessa has always been a quiet but integral part of our dogs' and our own lives.
Thursday evening after supper I heard a soft cry from behind me. She seemed to be in some discomfort, which was concerning. She went out at bedtime as usual, but did not want her bedtime biscuit, nor could she settle in her crate. She paced around the house, and at 2:00 am I gave her some Metacam for pain. She settled until morning. I watched her outside, where Leslie had put her in the smaller yard with a couple of the older girls. She peed, then lay down on the gravel, and Titch sat down next to her, touching her for comfort. While the dogs had breakfast, she lay quietly on the kitchen dogbed. Our vet is a distance away, but when we got her there, she walked in as usual, and smiled at everybody in the clinic, also as usual. The X-ray showed an enlarged spleen and some masses below, which our vet said were probably something cancerous. But most importantly, her stomach had torsioned. Since bloodwork was normal, we chose to try surgery. But it was too late, and Tessa died in surgery Friday. She was always so healthy, I had not thought to lose her for a long time yet. It was a shock.
She was the demo dog when her breeder, Joyce Webb, brought her to Canada in 1994 in whelp, to give a seminar to judges and other interested people, and to start Jill Taylor in the breed. She was one of Canada's first imports. When Jill gave her to me six years ago, Tessa was always a part of the breed seminars I have presented. Once we got recognition of the IR&WS in Canada, she came to our National Specialties in altered class, and last year at the age of twelve, she took the two altered class points. We always spay our bitches after their final litters, so she was not eligible for a regular Canadian Ch.. She and her progeny were always "Best Brood Bitch" though. Being easy and sweet, Tessa was the grandchildrens' choice for our community fall fair children's pet show, and last year won "longest tail" category among others. She does leave progeny, she was birdy, she was Canada's oldest IR&WS for several years.She was plenty of things that I suppose might be considered important. But to us, her real importance was in herself, and the vital part of our family that she was. She was everything anybody could ask for in an IR&WS, and so much more. I will always miss her here with me, and her precious smiley face.
1991-2004
Shannonlee Snowy Owl Sire: Vanders Special Vintage Dam: Shannonlee Magnolia Whelped: June 1, 1995
Tawny
We brought Tawny from England when she was 22 months old. She was accompanied by three puppies from her first litter --Kim Spelmer's Lainie, Diane Martineau's Forex, and Lyn Paymer's Liffey--all of whom have been much loved and done exceptionally well in several disciplines. Tawny herself was immediately fine with me, but never having met a man before, was afraid of Leslie. For the first month here, she would not voluntarily go near him. As Leslie has an aura that all dogs are attracted to, this was a first for him, and he was not pleased. A friend suggested that she was afraid of Leslie's beard, and he should shave it off. Leslie replied that he wasn't about to shave off his beard for any dog! This shyness didn't last long of course, and Tawny soon decided that Leslie was wonderful, and her most beloved person. She was quiet about it, but she always managed to get herself close to people so they could pat her. This was especially so if we had company. If they stopped patting her, she would reach out a paw and put it on their arm, to remind them--meanwhile studiously gazing off ino the distance.
She was also one of those dogs that we could let out the front door loose and know that she wouldn't go far. And she would always come back when called--except when she had found something tasty in the burning pit where Leslie had been burning kitchen garbage. But she never spent much time outdoors anyway. Her place was indoors, usually on her chair.
Tawny was our queen. She was the most benign of despots. But she had a presence about her that the other dogs respected.. Her place was as head of the household, and her throne was the big brown leather chair in the living room. She would sit on that big chair with her head held high, as befits a queen.
Her other place was on the dogbed in the kitchen, when food was in the offing. I would come down in the morning, and Tawny would greet me with dancing, and often smiling. I would make my coffee, and she would wait quietly on the dogbed. Because, with coffee, came toast! There would always be a bit of toast for Tawny in the morning.
Last winter she started coughing. A check-up and an X-ray by our vet revealed an enlarged heart. The coughing became more frequent over the months, but she didn't seem bothered by it. Then one day in August, she didn't want her breakfast. More importantly, she didn't want her morning toast. Two days later, she died here at home where she belonged.
Her daughter, two granddaughters, and one great-granddaughter are here with us. They have each inherited some of her traits, and are loved for who they are. But our Tawny was unique in so many ways. She leaves us with wonderful memories.
June 1, 1995-Aug. 16, 2008.
Ch. Caniscaeli Moonlight Sonata Sire: Ch. Caniscaeli Starfire Ember Dam: Caniscaeli Song Of Sixpence Whelped: July 2, 2001
She was Can. Ch. Caniscaeli Moonlight Sonata, and we called her Tullia--or Tulli, or Tools, or Tooli-Wooli... It means "the quiet one", a special name for a special pretty girl with the big dark eyes. She was a tidy little personage, gentle and tactile, springing nimbly onto laps for a cuddle, or onto a couch with dogs, bodies entwined. And she would always make herself part of the action, parking her little body in doorways or on stair landings. But she would deftly move over when asked politely to "excuse me".
If Tawny was our Queen, Tullia was our Princess. She was lovely to look upon, and she carried herself with a self-contained regalness that was undeniable. Tullia was the only member of the pack allowed to sit on the kitchen chairs. And oh, she was motherly. She adored puppies--anybody's puppies. She was intelligent and endearingly gentle, but under it all was a core of strength. Though I know she wouldhave preferred to stay, the burden of the cancer became too great for herand us. Wehad to let her go. May the spirits of her friends and her ancestorsbend low with love to receive her. She left us too soon, in June 2009.
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind".
Ch. Caniscaeli's Whitehot Toddy Sire: Ch. Corranroo Chaos Dam: Ch. Caniscaeli One Fine Day (Bevy) March 12, 2004
Toddy
March 12, 2004--Oct. 5, 2008
Toddy, we have photos to remind us of you, and the pleasure you gave us.
We chose you, Toddy, at eight weeks of age, from Chaos and Bevy's litter. There's your eight week stack in my big maroon pedigree book.
Toddy at eight weeks old, taking Tullia's bedding from her crate, dragged several hundred yards into the orchard, so you could lie in comfort on bedding on the grass, chewing on your big bone. What a cute little thing you were in that photo.
Toddy, there you are, lying on the couch with a couple of the other girls, heads on bodies, all comfortable for a winter's eveing in front of the TV.
Toddy in the kennel yard, pulling on a toy, Connor on the other end.
Toddy chewing on a big branch, along with two other girls.
Toddy lying on the couch here, keeping me company while I typed.
Toddy on this same couch, your big belly ready to give us puppies.
Toddy the loving mother, adoring her babies, me sitting with you, watching them grow, day by day.
Toddy at the front door, ready to go wherever we were going, always enjoying a car ride.
Toddy at handling class, already a Champion, but enjoying the outing with the folks.
Toddy of the huge flashing smile, dashing at us and talk-talk-talking, reminding us you're there, not to forget your supper.
Lainie came to live with us a year ago September, when Kim died. Kim and Lainie were very bonded so if we had time to consider her individually among all the others, it was to marvel at how quickly and well she did adapt to living here. She became the Queen of the household within five minutes of arriving. She wore her title well, as did her mother Tawny before her.
Lainie especially wove her way into Leslie's and my lives. She had no intention of us going anywhere without her. She was with one or preferably both of us, up to and including the day she died. She always went with us, contentedly lounging on her two dog cushions behind the driver's seat grocery shopping, when we went out for a meal, to the vet's, to meetings, to dog events including shows, and when we visited friends or my parents. She would potter around their condo, checking out everything, and pushing her head under my dad's hand to tell him to pat her. Life was a big adventure to Lainie, and she loved to go places and do things. She would lie on the front hall mat where she could see Leslie or me going out the doors, for whatever reason. I would call her name, and she'd always be ready to go--whether a trip in the car or around our small acreage. Often it was just outside to wander around the gardens, me with my morning coffee in hand. I would put my fingers on the back of her head, as a signal she should come too. The other dogs weren't invited out that back door. She would wander with us, or sit with us, whether we were working around the place, perhaps in the gardens, or having a before-dinner glass of wine. And the others understood it was because she was Lainie--the queen. I took so many photos of Lainie in so many places over the past year, that it's been impossible to choose just one that illustrates her life with us. I have many of Lainie--on the couch with her head on Leslie, on her dogbeds, here in the computer room, front hall, out in the orchard, walking around the river in Stratford (there are ducks and she pointed ducks), standing by the garden swing with us, checking out the plants around our property. And running along the paths of the grove. She loved the exciting bird smells in the grove, and I was always ready to leave before she was. Even more than that, she loved standing intently, tensely, watching the quail in their pen, and always had to be pulled away. She was born for bird hunting. She was also Canada's first female conformation Champion.
Ch. Caniscaeli Bravo Encore
Sire: BISS Ch. Shannonlee Whiskey Jack, CDX, FDZ, CGC Dam: Ch. Caniscaeli Tandragee Bramble, CD, FDJ Whelped: Nov. 16, 1998 Died April 23, 2012.
Connor at 13 Connor in 2006, the year he was Number One IR&WS in Canada
What can you say about a dog as special as Connor was.
Following the death of his grandmother, Queen Tawny, Connor became King of the family pack. He was already king of our hearts. Like Tawny before him, he was benevolent in his dealings with all the others, was respected, admired, and loved for his kindness and confident strength of character. He was the solid centre of the family, and remained so until the end of his life.
Connor lived his life with happiness and contentment in our family for 13 1/2 years. It’s never long enough of course, and all the more so because Connor was special to us. His sire was Diane Martineau’s beloved Forex, out of another special one, Brammie. Behind them were other dogs remembered with love--our Tawny, Festie, and Liam. He was an interesting mix of several endearing traits he inherited from those family members.
We discovered his penchant for water when we took him up to Galbraiths to hunt with his sister Maggie when he was eight months old. We threw a stick in the pond, and Connor swam in after it. He loved it when we’d take him anywhere he could swim. Once we forgot, and thought we were merely taking him for a walk around the river in Stratford. Connor suddenly threw himself sideways, and there he was In the Avon River, blissfully swimming along.
Connor also loved toys. You know, soft toys with squeakers inside. We gave him one for his 13th birthday, and listened as he squeaked it with his usual joyful abandon. However, when the squeaking stopped a few minutes later, we also knew it was time to take it away until another time, because that’s when the ripping and shredding was about to begin.
And much as he loved those toys, he was always willing to share them with puppies. Connor was the guardian of puppies, and would play tug (and let them win) or share his toy with whatever baby happened to be in the house at the time. Puppies idolized Connor, and wanted to be with him the most. They grew up both loving and respecting him. The ones born here knew him as “daddy” because, regardless of their actual parentage, he always considered puppies his own, from the moment they were born, or arrived in the house. When they were born, he'd sit outside the puppy room door, waiting to meet them, and making sure no harm came to them. He would leap over any barrier to be with them, and never landed on a puppy, no matter how many were in the puppy pen. The mothers understood this, and calmly accepted him in the box with their babies.
Connor was the dog we always took to the Hunting Dog Shows in the early days in Toronto. He would point the stinky bird in the stinky cage, where many other dogs had marked territory already. But his real joy was the meeting of the people on these occasions, enjoying their attention and admiration. He like to go places with us. He was also the first, along with his mother, to greet visitors at the door when they came here.
Connor also loved dogshows. Perhaps too much so because, when he was young, it didn’t occur to him that there was anything more to it than running around (or walking), socializing with everybody and checking out who might be at ringside. He would leap about gleefully, or trot sideways with his nose in Leslie’s bait pocket, when he was supposed to be showing his movement to the judge. One memorable day, just as the judge was casting a final eye down the lineup of Specials, Connor suddenly threw himself on his back in the grass, kicking his legs in total abandon, enjoying the feeling of the cool grass on a warm day. He lost to his brother that day. It didn’t matter, as he always made me smile.
Pedigree
Parents
GrandParents
GreatGrandParents
SIRE
BISS. Ch. Shannonlee Whiskey Jack, CDX, FDX, CGC (Forex)
Born May 8, 2002, Shaki came to live with us permanently in June 2010.
From the moment Shaki emerged from her crate from the plane, she was ours, settling in with us as though she'd always lived here. Part of the couch was hers. She would have enjoyed continuing the field part of her life, but she enjoyed showing, and finished her Ch. quickly here. In looks and in personality, she was very Shannonlee, and the one most like her grandmother Festie -- happy, adaptable, well adjusted.
Being one of the older dogs, she was always part of the small group allowed loose while Leslie and I eat our suppers. Licking plates was a treat she appreciated.
We bred her to Bertie for her second and final litter, from which we kept our Artie. Like all our girls, she was a superb mother. That's her son Artie coming in from behind, on the photo above.
But mostly, she loved Leslie and me, her people. When we would come home from shopping for instance, all the dogs run back and forth, barking in excitement. Shaki, however, would wait for the other dogs to run outside. Then she would pop off the couch to do lovely sits on my left side, where she would get her petting and loves. How I will miss that. She died on Feb. 28, 2014.
Shannonlee Red Robin
Robin was born Sept. 29, 200, and died on Feb. 8, 2016.
We had a wonderful healthy 15 years with Robin, and his going has left a huge hole in our hearts. Robin never wanted to be king of the pack, but he was indeed a prince among dogs, and loved by all. The other dogs have all said good-bye to him. He enjoyed being part of the pack, especially when we went out to the orchard. I wish we could have worked with him more, as his bird sense was excellent. He was the happiest dog we have ever known, always waggy tailed. Robin's smile was unusual and quirky, in that he'd lift and tighten the corners of his mouth. He was one of the first to greet new people, always ready, indeed determined, to be patted. But he saved his special love for Leslie and me. We'll miss him terribly for some time to come.
Ch. Fougere Song In My Heart
Dec. 14, 2004, to August 2018.
Fiona was always a happy and interesting girl, loved being at dog shows, was easy on the grooming table (she's the model for our article "Grooming Made Easy"), though car trips were not enjoyable for her at first. She invariably went along if we went out to the orchard, as she loved being with us there too.
She was the Queen of the computer room couch, her favourite place to be. And she expected, and got, attention there. Other dogs were welcome in "her" room so long as they behaved sensibly. If they thought they could play boisterous games in her room though, she was quick to disoblige them. Rising up to her full height, she'd give "the look", and of that was ignored, a quick, loud "Argh" would get her point across. That couch was the place she ensconced herself when new puppies were across the hall in the whelping bedroom. If you mentioned those puppies, she'd smile broadly. She was such an excellent smiler.
She was also a most devoted mother and nursed the remaining couple of puppies in her final litter until they were almost twelve weeks old. She was also happy to mother another bitch's puppies. She loved them all. Her daughters have kept the tradition alive; we can cont on that mothering instinct to be strong.
Fiona had a quirky sense of timing. For whatever reason, she was always sure getting-up time was an hour before it actually was. And she'd start bugging us about supper around four o'clock. And don't even look at her around nine in the evening, as she'd got that timing wrong too, and was watching for the "last outs" signal.
What an escape artist she was too, especially in winter as the snows were driven against the dog yard fence. We would see her eying the place she intended jumping that fence, and the Boss would be there also, eyeing her. She'd wait until his attention was deflected, and over she'd go. She never went far. Her aim was to run the perimeter of the dog yard fencing, goading the rest of the dogs into running along beside her, inside, barking, while she led the merry chase from the outside. She'd come to the front door when she was ready, and no sense calling before she was so tired she couldn't stand any longer. A couple of times the Boss had to rescue her from under the back deck, where she'd chase a rabbit in there and get herself stuck. Once she thought it would be fn to chase a skunk. That didn't work out well for any of us.
But all good things must come to an end, and her body gave out on her this summer. Her ashes lie in a pretty wooden box with her name engraved on the top, buried under a big lilac tree just outside the dog fence. She'd like that. Ch. Caniscaeli Just One Look
March 4, 2005 to September 2018
Tandy was the last of the string of "T" girls. We had Tessa, Titch, Tawny, Trea, Tullia, Toddy, and finally Tandy. She was what I consider "Shannonlee" in type, very much like her great grandmother Festie. She was strong-minded like Festie too. She finished her Championship quite quickly and happily. She also greeted people who came to the house with that same friendly attitude. And she was a world-class counter surfer to the last, so we learned never to leave food out.
Tandy was, above all, my morning toast sharer. She'd hear me opening the toaster door, and she'd be right beside me, waiting for her piece, which she always got. Just Tandy, nobody else. This morning I had to take it to her where she lay, and she ate it slowly, a matter of habit only. She wasn't even in the kitchen. Her favourite spot for the past few weeks has been on the kitchen floor between the stove and the fridge, right where we couldn't get past without stepping over her. It made cooking meals very awkward, a one-dog obstacle course. She didn't miss much, though lately she'd eat only people food. No kibble thank-you. Raw pork was her favourite. She no longer bothered getting up to greet people who came to the house these past few weeks. Nor did she accompany the pack and Leslie and me out to the orchard this summer.
The strong-minded Tandy was slipping away. And this morning, after a difficult night, we all knew it was time. We took her for a short walk to relieve herself this morning. But the old Tandy, interested in life, had gone. She had no strength left, couldn't walk properly. Maybe a stroke in the night, we don't know and it doesn't matter. Sleep well Tandy.
Canadian Grand Champion Excellent/Am. Ch./Int Ch./MBISS Shireoak Caniscaeli Windsong, CGN
Nov. 7, 2005 to March 16, 2020.
We hadn't expected to have a puppy from that litter of Kady's, born on a cold windy day. But when I saw that puppy stack at almost eight weeks, I knew he had to be ours. The Boss agreed, we should have a son of Tanner's.
That was the start of our amazing journey through the next fourteen and a half years of the life of our once-in-a-lifetime Eamon. He began his winning ways as a puppy. Without any training, his first show at six months he was Best Of Breed over all the older dogs. It was as if he was born for this. He finished his Can. Ch. at eight months, handled by the Boss, Leslie. By fourteen months he was taking Group placements. Our friend Sharon Ouimette was handling him by then, and she was on the lead in Canada for the next four years as he took multiple Specialty BOB's, and dozens of Group placements. His structure and movement were unparalleled. And what a showman he was!
One of those judges told us that Eamon was the "template for the breed" and he would see to having him shown in the USA when the breed became fully AKC recognized. When that time came, Eamon went to a handler and again, was a sensation. He was never defeated by any other IR&WS in the USA, was the second Am. Ch., the first Group winner, BOB at the first AKC Specialty, the first Westminster BOB, the first Nationals BOB, and again multiple Group winner. Breeder and friend Kim Spelmer and I went down to New York to see Eamon take another Specialty BOB, and the Westminster win, and brought him home after that.
Eamon fit back into the pack with no fuss, and though Sharon and Leslie both continued to show him to more Breed, Group, and Specialty wins for the next few years, he came home to us at the end of the shows. And his first trip outside when he got home was to throw himself on the grass for a roll. He'd come inside again with the top of his head sporting a green streak. We called him Mister Greenhead, of course. We took him to one final show last year, just to hang out. He was so happy to be there, his tail wagged almost continually, and he never sat down the whole time. One of the handlers tossed the old boy a piece of bait from the ring, which of course expert Eamon caught. He spent some time being fussed up by his friend Sharon, who tossed him one last toy for him to take home.
So many things we will remember about our boy: in the orchard his tree limb collection, his big digging hole, his enormous leaps into fruit trees to nip off apples and especially his favourite pears. He'd walk around underneath the tree, on his hind legs searching for the fruit he wanted. Then the giant leap to bring down that fruit, trot to the top of the orchard to eat it, then back for another. He taught that trick to Torin and Nally, to continue the tradition. But Eamon was the master. And after the pack had had a good run around, they would lounge under the shade tree with me on the bench. And Eamon would be standing like a shepherd guarding his flock. He was our King.
Inside, he also took guard duties seriously. For most of his life, until a month before his death, his last duty of the day was to come upstairs to check out all the rooms, before going back downstairs to spend the night in the living room. In all his years though, anyone who came to the house was welcomed by a waggy tailed Eamon. He loved people, his pack, new dogs in the house, puppies, his toys, oh and food! What an ambassador for the breed he was. And everybody who knew him, loved him also. But especially Leslie and I, who will miss him forever.
His ashes now lie under the big lilac tree, with Fiona and his mother Kady. We have our treasured memories of our "amazing Eamon" to take with us into the future.
Ch. Caniscaeli I'd Do It Again
April 27, 2013 - June 9, 2020
I liked the boy from our Cavan X Maisey litter but really, we didn't need another boy. Well it ultimately appeared that we did need Torin and he did fit in well with the pack.
Our clingiest dog, he always needed to be on his back next to the Boss on the couch, or standing in front of me, for more patting. As he matured, it became obvious he was second in command after Number One dog, our King, Eamon. It was Eamon who taught Torin to leap into fruit trees to bring down his own apple or pear. We looked forward to many more years of that trait, handed down to Torin.
Like our other dogs, Torin waited until Eamon was gone before taking over the reins of power. He had held that position for three months, when one day he didn't want to eat. That was not like Torin. So, after four days of his picky appetite, I phoned our vet. I had a suspicion he might have eaten something that impacted his gut. He stood in front of me for patting for a few minutes before he left with the Boss. Leslie phoned me after he'd talked with the vet, got some X-rays. It was cancer, and would be cruel to let him linger.
It had never occurred to me I would never see him again. His name, I'd Do It Again. Yes, to have another Torin, we'd do it again.
Ch. Whitehot Caniscaeli's Chorale
May 5, 2009 - Sept. 25, 2020
She was our Coradorable, our Pocket Rocket, our little sweetheart. Such a happy girl, she took each new aspect of life in her stride, comfortable wherever she was, just happy be there. She enjoyed dog shows, and finished her Ch. quite easily and quickly. Always happy to meet new people, her little body wagging. And she smiled. Oh how she smiled. She smiled with a toy in her mouth, she smiled when anybody arrived at the house, she smiled when we came in the door from shopping, she twirled circles and smiled and crowed with unabashed delight at seeing us, every time.
My goodness, she was birdy too. I wish I could physically have taken her to do field tests. I guarantee she'd have got a title or two without much effort at all. But I won't leave our dogs with anybody else. If I couldn't do it, it wouldn't be done. So she never got the titles.
She had special places she used to like to hang out at home. One was halfway up the first flight of stairs, another under the kitchen table, yet another under the Boss's feet when he'd sit in the living room. We used to say Cora was always "under foot", and that was literally.
I would get her up on the grooming table more often than the others, just because she'd grow nails and feet hair so quickly. Therefore it hadn't been too long, when we got her up a couple of months ago, and I saw and felt the mass in her mammary. I don't swear much, but I did that afternoon. It was fast, aggressive mammary cancer, which our vet confirmed when she saw her. Cora started on Tramadol, palliative care. She did amazingly well on that, though we knew her time was limited. Two days ago, we took the pack out to the orchard, and Cora came along as usual. That has often been the favourite place for the dogs to be, with the Boss and me. Cora loved it too, and two days ago, her eyes were bright. I took her picture. That's it below. But the time had come, and it wouldn't have been fair to keep her even one more day.
I remember picking her up, a little more than eleven years ago. We plunked her in the crate in the back of the car, drove her home from the other side of Toronto. Not a peep out of her, no car sickness. When we got here, I set this happy eight week old baby on the grass, and she trotted off to explore her bright new world. Wherever she is now, I hope she's still got that grounded, relaxed attitude she alway had. We love you and miss you, Coradorable.
Ch. Shireoak Iced Flame
Jan. 19, 2009-Jan. 28, 2023
The Boss and I are sad to say that our Bertie- Mister Bert, Bertster, Bertie Bumbles, Can. Ch. Shireoak Iced Flame died over night. We knew he was failing, but he ate his supper as usual last night, had had a pretty good day yesterday, and climbed onto his couch for the evening as usual. But it was his time.
Bertie arrived here as a "Fosterdog" puppy from Kim, originally just to socialize, not to keep. But Bertie's plan all along was to live with us. He wasn't going anywhere. He and Cora were fast friends in those early days, chasing and wrestling in the orchard. He was the epitome of "agile". Good times. He finished his Championship at thirteen months, enjoying sitting on his chair at ringside waiting for his turn in the ring with the Boss.
Bertie was never a dominant dog, never a cross word from him either. He was perfectly content to live a quiet life at home. In latter years his favourite place was on the end of the couch. If another dog had got there before him, he'd stand in front and stare, until the dog vacated his place, usually with a grouch at Bertie, which he ignored as he climbed up.
But if people arrived, Bertie was always ready to welcome them onto his couch. So many times when visitors came here, it was Bertie they remembered, Bertie the one so many said they'd like to take home. Aside from the Boss, the last person Bertie welcomed onto his couch was our two year old grandson.
Good-bye Bertie. We loved you.
Caniscaeli Cindy Cindy
2008-2023
We got Cindy back when she was seven years old, and she lived with us until she died at age fifteen. Her greatest pleasure was to be outside with the other dogs and us. In her younger days she would run across the yards and the orchard at speed, then lie on one of the benches on the dog porch, watching her world. Inside, her preferred place was the big dog pouf at the edge of the living room. And when we had puppies, they would be just next to that dog bed, so she could enjoy watching them. She loved puppies, even though she had never been bred from.
The older boys in particular annoyed her though and if one of them barged into her space, she'd let them know, with a grouch at them. However, she was in no way aggressive, but just needed to let them know if they were too close to her resting place.
We had to let her go because, even on pain medication, her hips were arthritic and painful by age fourteen. But her appetite was good to the end, as were her brain, her eyes, her hearing, no signs of cancer or any other ailment. Just her sore hips. One more winter, one more summer, we said. And then we said good-bye.
Can. Ch. Shireoak Ice Crystal Jan 19, 2009 to July 10, 2024.
I had admired Maisey (pet name for Kim's aunt, registered name courtesy of the Boss) since she was seven weeks old. I admired most of that Monty X Kady litter though. But we hadn't thought to have a pup, and we already had brother Bertie. When Kim died though, we went up to her place and brought the dogs here, as Kim had required. There were four dogs in crates in our dog car that trip, and Maisey, twenty months old, travelled on the floor between my legs. She found it very scary here at first, never having been anywhere but Kim's place. She was OK with me (Gail) but she saw the Boss as very frightening indeed. It took her a couple of months to adjust, during which time we called her "Crazy Maisey". But once she realized the Boss was not out to kill her, she decided he was actually Mister Wonderful. She had finally become our dog. So I determined she should be shown. We had finished Championships on girls with typical head markings, red patch at base of tail and no other body patching before. But oh, that pearly white did shine brilliantly in the sun. Judges had the good sense to judge dogs, not patching. And that spring we'd finally been able to transfer ownership of the dogs Kim had left. We would get to the shows an hour ahead of time, and I would sit at ringside with her, people milling about, some stopping to pat her. Boss would show her. And she was OK with that. So long as either of us was on the end of the lead, she was content. And she finished in just a couple of weeks. We only took her out once after that, to our National Specialty in Long Sault. She didn't do anything in the show, but that was entirely beside the point. She showed well, and walked on a loose lead with no concern at noises, big RVs with generators, the hotel, her total faith in the Boss and me. We considered her Amazing Maisey by then. She did it for us, though, did not have the sparkle in the ring that her half brother Eamon had. She was a home body, running in the orchard, eating pears her brothers collected for her. Indoors she would pop in and out of her second storey crate, often choosing to watch the world go by from the comfort of her bed with her collection of fruit or toys beside her.
Jackie Howatson came to visit after her Specialty judging assignment in 2012, and was quite taken with Maisey, reiterated that several times. "She's really nice, Gail". So we bred her, to Ch. Shireoak Spring Frost, FDJ (Cavan), the dog I knew Kim wanted used. From that line breeding, Ch. Caniscaeli I'd Do It Again (Torin) is the one who continues the story. In fact, our youngest, Rossa, has Maisey as her great grandmother, dam side.
When people came to our house, most didn't even know Maisey existed. In earlier days she might have been leery of strangers, but as old age set in, she'd cruise through the living room, sometimes stop for a pat if the visitor insisted. Or if someone made a point of befriending her, she would stay a while. But she didn't need their attention. She only wanted the Boss's and mine.
She was also my best toast girl, never leaving my side once the bread was cut ready for the toaster. She watched and she knew, quietly insistent, certain of her favoured status.
We couldn't have asked for a better pet around the house. Kind, gentle, loving, and so very beautiful.
When she turned fifteen, I was not surprised. She was sturdy, her (OFA) excellent hips never let her down, her eyes just starting to cloud, her hearing still the best. I thought she'd easily make sixteen. I know she'd had a happy life, and I wanted more of it. But that was not to be. It was the mammary cancer that did her in. Once their appetites fade, you know the time is coming. And it's always sooner than we are ready for. When sleep was more necessary than an offered bit of buttered soft toast, we knew that was it. Oh Maisey-mo, fifteen and a half years were not enough.
Can. Ch. Caniscaeli Art Song (Artie)
Nov. 5, 2010-Aug, 20, 2024
We hadn't meant to keep Artie actually. But he hadn't got sold so we entered him in a couple of nearby shows and he finished easily in a couple of weeks, at eight months old. By that time, of course, Gail was attached, so when someone did ask to buy him, the answer was "sorry, he's mine". When people came to the house, the Boss often put him in a crate, not because he was shy, but because he was so happy to see strangers that he couldn't help but leap up on them. This never changed. I had a broken leg when Artie was still young, so I taught him to "sit" so I wouldn't get knocked over with his exuberance. With the result that the first time he went into the conformation ring, he automatically sat. Conformation people understand that is a no-no, and I heard a chorus of "that's your fault" from ringside. And when someone came to meet the dogs, and told Artie "Sit", he did so. He came over to my side and sat there. But he loved people, and other dogs, fit easily into the pack, following his dad, Bertie whom he idolized. There was a brief flurry of "the teenaged brain" when he was about two, and thought he would move up the pack. But that was short lived and the pack order remained with Artie at the bottom. Even the girls disdained his hormonal shrieks when they were in season. Leslie and I would tell him to stop; "you sound like a girl". But those boys at the bottom of the pack, they are kindly, sweet dogs to live with.
Artie could have done so many other things. He had point, he had retrieve, he was eager please, and he had a superior nose, would have done well in the field. Or he would have loved agility if he'd had the chance.
It wasn't until his eyesight dimmed in his old age that he slowed down. But he still appeared relatively healthy and I thought we'd at least get him to fourteen, especially as he was by then eating people food to tempt a failing appetite. He had fallen a couple times during this past year, but a few minutes later, regained his strength. But in late August he fell suddenly again, and this time he couldn't get up. Artie, you were always a good boy.
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