Torteval Irish Wolfhounds

As well as ringcraft classes she attended obedience classes from the age of four months, making satisfyingly steady if slow (ie wolfhound pace) progress, and competing in local obedience shows without her performance embarrassing us (. . . much). For a time, her antagonism towards other dogs made us withdraw her from classes and competition while we worked to improve her behaviour, but she made excellent progess, and learnt to cope with dog-intense situations, though we always had to be vigilant.

She was a dog of contrasts: a prodigious sleeper, she was more than happy to snooze the day away, but on walks she was tireless, and specialised in her own form of 'off-piste' walking - taking off at alarmingly regular intervals to explore pastures new. Extremely athletic, she could out-run and out-jump Hogan with ease and laughter - only in McKenna did she met her match. She was also a proficient hunter (of rabbits rather than wolves, such are the constraints of modern life) with the speed to catch her prey, the skill to dispatch it quickly and cleanly, and the good sense to know when not to waste her energy on a distant lost cause.

Her other passion in life was food, something she took very seriously indeed. Her appetite was voracious, her menu indiscriminate and her obvious distress and disappointment at the sight of her empty bowl pitiful.

Promoted to the head of the pack at the age of just two on Chewbacca's death, she grew steadily into the role of matriarch. Like many natural leaders, she had no need to enforce her will and her underlings readily acknowledged her rank and seniority, although there were times when you could swear that Branigan was winking behind her back and just humouring her girlish whims rather than actually deferring to her.

Initially deeply sceptical at the need for more personnel, she quickly took to young Rafferty, accepting him into the pack and tolerating his puppy antics with good humour. We had the feeling that she recognised in him all the qualities she was looking for in her eventual successor.

She was unique in that, with the exception of Clancy who died three years before her arrival, she knew all our wolfhounds: McGinty and Chewbacca were her puppyhood mentors; she out-lived Branigan and Hogan; McKenna was her contempory; young Rafferty could be considered the next generation.

Apart from two episodes of bloat, Darcy enjoyed good health up to the age of seven-and-a-half when she was diagnosed with a heart arrhythmia and early dilated cardiomyopathy. She responded well to treatment, but five months later became suddenly ill again with what was believed to be heart failure. She underwent extensive investigation by a heart specialist on the mainland, who diagnosed incompletely treated pneumonia.

Throughout winter 2009/spring 2010 her health fluctuated, but in the end she succumbed, not to heart disease or pneumonia, but to a probable perforated ulcer brought on by the anti-inflammatory drugs she needed for her arthritis.

She was our beloved 'babe': intelligent, elegant, haughty and inclined to be moody, she presided over her little pack like a beautiful but capricious fairy-tale queen. She enriched our lives with her presence, and in leaving us has taken a piece of our hearts that we will never get back.