An injury to his spine at four months old resulted in temporary paralysis of his
back legs, and his courage in allowing us to teach him to swim (not easy for a
wolfhound) as part of his treatment was heart warming to see. He showed the same
plucky determination in his attitude to his resultant lameness, never allowing
it to dampen his high spirits or his love of the chase. He accepted Darcy as pack leader without question, but on walks he took upon himself the role of keeping the pack together, ensuring that if any of the others venture too far 'off-piste' (a regular occurence) they were not left behind. Until McKenna's arrival, his relationship with Hogan was simple: sparring partner, best friend and partner-in-crime in whatever mischief they could concoct . . . but after McKenna, Hogan was often too busy drooling over her to pay much attention to Bran - not that it seemed to cramp his style too much, mischief-wise. McKenna herself was beneath his notice - a girl, of all things. He tolerated her, but with about as much patience as a ten year old boy might have with an irritating three year old sister. He was by far the most demanding of our dogs, and much inclined to imposing himself physically on whoever he decided should be paying him attention, either by inflicting large, wet kisses or simply positioning his bulk in such a way that he could not be got around or over without receiving the attention he felt was his due. Not particularly tall, having tired of growing nine months old and a modest 33.5", his genial character and easy going nature made him an outstanding ambassador for the breed, who charmed the public and accepted their adoration as his natural right. In December 2007 he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma (bone cancer). Amputation was out of the question because of his pre-existing lameness, so he underwent chemotherapy and treatment with zoledronic acid. For six months he fought valiantly, but when we could no longer control his pain it was time to let him go, and he was put to sleep at the age of five years and two months. The vacuum his going left in our home and our hearts is simply indescribable. |
Branigan was bred by John Bosanquet of the Santir kennel in Liverpool, one of a litter
of thirteen. We brought him home at the age of eight weeks, and he quickly
settled in and arranged for the household to be run in accordance with his wishes.Even
McGinty, our first wolfhound, didn't have quite the impact on our lives
that this young man did. |
His Liverpool charm and humour won the hearts of all who meet him, and his
roguish affability somehow compensated for the fact that almost every piece
of furniture in the house soon bore his puppy teeth marks. He always laughed
off our sternest reprimands, and even our ultimate weapon, time-out in the garage,
was accepted with cheerful good humour - any improvement in his behaviour
as a result being merely a temporary blip. He was extremely vocal, his motto apparently being: 'If you're not getting what you want, bark. If Mum doesn't get mad, you're not barking loud enough. If she does, bark EVEN LOUDER!!!!' |
Branigan 17.4.03 ~ 30.6.08 |
