The Head Bitch

Dugan Finn
January 1998 - October 21st 2011

"If you value something, place it above 6 feet of height or lock it behind a door. Dugan lives here."
- Shannon Barry

It's taken me a few days to be able to sit down and write about my Dugan. I was not only overwhelmed by my grief, but also fearful I could not find all the right words so that people could truly understand the many sides of this creature who meant so much to us.
Dugan was the naughtiest dog I ever met. A bad ass. The most skillfully mischievous and diabolical canine ever to join our family. He was devilish. He caused mayhem, destruction and chaos.
He was the best dog ever.
I've read other tomes in honor of so called "naughty" dogs. These were nothing compared to Dugan. Marley was a cartoon character of Disney like proportions. I never saw Jennifer Aniston's character forcing Marley to vomit up 20 some odd PowerBars that Marley not only opened the pantry door to retrieve but also removed all the wrappers before eating them. Dugan made Marley look like amateur night. Marley could never pull off Dugan's trademark mohawk.
What people don't realize is that really bad dogs are put on earth for a reason. The truly ill-behaved dogs are the ones that teach you the most, that make you a master dog person. You earn your stripes with them. Sticking with this type of dog defines you as an animal guardian. Sadly most people give up, toss them in shelters, define them as being beyond rehabilitation. They are true diamonds in the rough and if you have the strength and courage to even see a flicker of the brilliance, it's worth it. With Dugan I knew the sparkle was there, it just took, well, perseverance to find it.
Dugan was a rescue who was found running in Indianapolis and ended up at the county pound there. The local contact for Save Our Setters was called to come and pick him up and do temp foster with him. Alex and I had been approved for adoption with SOS and were just waiting for "the" dog. The previous two Irish Setters we applied for were given to other families, one because they wanted him placed with children, the other because they wanted him to be able to hunt. We reasoned a really special setter must be coming to us. (cue foreboding music)
Dugan was described by the rescue as a young male, bench variety setter and very "spirited". I have since learned that "spirited" is polite-speak for bat-shit-crazy. I enjoy using that very same term to my own benefit ever since. The man who fostered him said he had an idea who his breeder was and it was better he never go back and liked the idea we were out of state. I got a call on a Saturday night from the Illinois rep, "He is yours if you want him." On Sunday we were driving 5 hours to Indy to sign the adoption papers and bring him home.
As we walked up the property of the foster home a large hedge blocked my view of the man holding Dugan on a leash. Alex being much taller than I saw him first "Oh, wow. He's a looker." When Dugan finally came in my view I saw this scrawny little spit fire of a dog, his coat was blazing red in the afternoon sunshine, he was so gorgeous I couldn't stop smiling. He jumped up and put his paws on my shoulders and I was a fool in love.
Alex and I were for lack of a better term... dumb asses. We had a 8 year old Irish Setter named Seamus at home that was calm and obedient from the moment we adopted him. We thought all Irish Setters were this way. Surely the people that told us that Irish were high energy were misinformed! We knew setters, people were wrong! They are calm and serene creatures, no problem. Pfft.
That was the moment when God smacked us up alongside the head and gave us Dugan.
The first 10 minutes in our house he ran around lifting his leg peeing on all the curtains and furniture. Then he ran around some more. Then he ran around again, then he paced. Then he ran some more. Then paced. Then ran. Alex and I nervously chuckled and immediately scheduled his neuter which would surely end this peeing & pacing behavior, right? (again, we were dumb asses)
Then came the altercations with our other dogs. Dugan was playful and friendly one second, then locking his jaw on Seamus' head the next. We all remember fondly 10 days post adoption when Dugan ripped a hole clear through our lab Fergus' ear over a ball. Fergus shook his head repeatedly post hole punch splattering blood all over our walls. It was February 14th and forever would be known in our home as "The Valentine's Day Massacre" as we spent hours scrubbing blood stains off every surface of our downstairs like a crime scene. It took multiple trainers, an animal communicator, holistic flower essence practioner and a vet behaviorist to pinpoint Dugan's fear issues and displacement aggression. We did learn his triggers and how to avoid the behavior through the years to the point it was almost forgotten. Except for that one stain that never really came out as a visual reminder for us always.
The pacing, running, pacing however continued post neuter. Both inside from window to window and outdoors along the fence line. No amount of activity tired him. Walks and runs seemed to energize him even more. We had to install an electric fence around our wooden fence as Dugan found ways to launch himself over, including a brilliant scheme where he would push my garden cart close enough to the gate to climb it and hurl himself over. The e-fence was the first of many expensive home modifications done in Dugan's honor. What kind of idiots install an electric fence around their cedar fence? Um, us.
Other charming habits surfaced such as Dugan stealing every item not nailed down. I'm not talking the occasional sock left on the bathroom floor. I'm talking opening the pantry on his own or stealing a piece of meat frying in a scalding hot pan. Holiday baking was never the same as he would steal cookies off the sheet piping hot as I pulled them out of the oven. Meal times were open game, he would scale the table and help himself to your plate. We had to put child-proof locks on all our cupboards. Ironic as we had to originally remove them upon purchasing this house as we have no children and found them annoying. Sigh.
Every house guest for years had to first have a short power point presentation in Dugan-readiness including never leaving anything of value in his sight. Yes, he can open a zipper on his own. Yes he knows how to unbutton things. Your suitcase is not safe, nor is your shopping bag or the pack of gum in your coat pocket. He will find it and he will destroy and/or eat it.
On the advice of the obedience trainer who made us repeat level one class TWICE we started to crate Dugan during our meal times. This was met with him howling and barking like a mad man.
I'd like to take this opportunity to formally apologize and thank all the people who ate dinner at our home from 2000-2004 who feigned polite dinner conversation as Dugan howled bloody hell one room away. I hope my awesome cooking made up for it Jill and Dave! Also sorry to my in-laws, who curiously suggested on subsequent visits here that we eat out.
Dugan's PICA resulted in the Animal Poison Control knowing me by name when I called and also how to induce vomiting in a New York minute in the back yard with hydrogen peroxide. Thanks to Dugan they now have on record how much coffee a 75 pound dog can ingest without organ involvement. Some highlights of bizarre Dugan ingestions were a 5 pound bag of whole wheat flour, 25 foil sealed single cup coffee packets and a bottle of Vitamins including the plastic lid. To this day I do not know how he opened my bedroom closet door, scaled past the hanging clothes to the top shelf where Alex's giant Christmas stocking Toblerone was hidden. But he did, and he ate it all before I made him throw it all up again...at midnight, in a snowstorm. Dugan had mad skills to say the least.
Upon request of Dugan's pet sitter who was sick with worry we actually barricaded the pantry door with a two by four nailed across it before we went to Disney World one year on vacation. We planned on remodeling the kitchen soon afterwards so this was a small gesture to relieve the pet sitter from an ulcer. She knew Dugan's antics well as he ate the Chapstick out of her purse every time she took care of him previously and destroyed paperwork she foolishly left on a table involving her other clients contracts and schedules. (yes we tipped her very well)
I have a vast collection of abdominal radiographs from Dugan's many eating exploits over the years. I'm trying to think of a craft project to use them all. Maybe some type of decoupage?
Doggie Day Care seemed a great solution to burn energy and create a happy behaved dog. It lasted 9 happy days. Dugan was expelled after an altercation with a Weinmariner that to this day I think was asking for it. I will say in Dugan's honor the owner of the establishment said no dog was sweeter and more patient with the young puppies than Dugan. But with a zero tolerance fighting rule we were kicked to the curb sadly. Expelled, our family shame.
Our all time favorite story of Dugan, was when we took him to see an esteemed veterinary behaviorist, the only behavioral vet licensed in the state. It cost $275 for an initial consultation and to say we were desperate was an understatement.
Dr. C took us in a large room and reviewed all our information. He told us to remain in our folding chairs and let Dugan off his leash. As Dugan bounced off the walls Dr. C. explained to us what Dugan was doing was "negative attention seeking behavior". As an exercise he told Alex and I that we were all going to ignore Dugan no matter what he did to as to not "reinforce" his behavior. For the next 10 minutes Dugan jumped on us, jumped on desks, barked, howled, etc. Dr. C. reminded us that no matter what "ignore Dugan." As the esteemed Doctor told us all the ways we were reinforcing Dugan's bad behavior by reacting to it Dugan wandered to the far end of the room and found a large file cabinet. As I started to bristle the Doctor reminded me to "ignore" and continued telling us all the ways we failed in training this dog. The sound of claws on metal filled the air as Dugan popped open the bottom drawer of the file cabinet and then started tearing out Dr. C's patient charts and eating the paper. It was then Dr. C's eyes bulged out and he said "How in the hell?" and jumped up and pulled the files out of Dugan's mouth, thus ending the "ignore Dugan's bad behavior" portion of our consultation.
Dr. C. actually did help us by suggesting Dugan wear a Gentle Leader 24-7 for a few months with a short leash attached to it so we could control him better. He also told us to screw a large metal anchor to a wall in the laundry room and attach Dugan to it for time-outs when we ate meals or he was naughty. It seemed ridiculous, but we were the people who tried everything so imagine our delight when we had progress with this method. It actually really worked wonders and that wall anchor remains as a monument to success in our laundry room. (that and we were always too afraid to remove it in case we ever actually needed it again)
While learning all the ways to live in somewhat peace with Dugan, little did Alex and I even realize we were becoming really good animal guardians in general. If nothing else we were really well read as we had every book known to man on dog behavior. He made us look and listen diligently, silence was never a good sign in our house. He made us super tidy as we couldn't leave a dirty bowl in the sink or a mug of tea sitting out. We also learned a really important lesson. There are some dogs that will defy everything, so don't beat yourself up for so called "failure" just accept what is will be. I walked Dugan diligently through rain, sleet, snow and a knee prosthesis for over 11 years and that dog NEVER behaved on leash. I used every harness, lead and no pull, no jump gizmo known to man and he still pulled and zig zagged on leash. I had trainers swear they could work this issue out of him and all admitted defeat with their tails between their proverbial legs. It took a decade for me to just realize that Dugan was pretty damn excited to get where we were going and could care less about leash manners. When I stopped caring we had some pretty nice albeit haphazard walks. Dugan taught me some battles are just not worth fighting. Good life lesson I think.
It was not all bad folks, Dugan was a sensitive and loving dog and had the ability to make us laugh at least once a day, which is the reason Alex always said we kept him around. I defy you not to crack a smile at an Irish Setter coming to you for help because he has the litter box lid wedged onto his body and he can't maneuver out the doggie door.
Dugan was loving and soulful and his stubborn streak became endearing. He cuddled with the best of them and let out the happiest sound when you scratched his tummy and he rolled on his back in the classic setter pose, paws poised in the air, jowls flapping in the wind. My Dugan saved other dog's lives by being the live blood donor at the vet hospital I worked at. The dog that was often a blur of red in constant motion would stand still for an hour or two for a blood transfusion. He stayed in one place when it really counted.
Dugan loved pizza and hated joggers.He loved children and would lick their faces silly but couldn't stand German Shepherds. He was my special boy and I often would stop what I was doing to go over and lay next to him and whisper in his ear "I adore you."
Alex and I tell Pogue every single day to thank Dugan, if Pogue's predecessor was not such a hellion we would have never had the courage to take on a sly little deaf English Setter puppy last year. So far Pogue has yet to shock us with any antics, we have kind of a "been there-done that" attitude thanks to Dugan. Like grizzled war veterans we earned these dog-savvy looks on our faces.
I kind of thought Dugan would live forever, his white muzzle did little to change his habits in his later years, he shredded rolls of toilet paper up until a few weeks back to let us know he was still practicing his personal form of setter anarchy. Dugan had bucked normal dog behavior his whole life, I thought death would just be another thing he would be stubborn over. But Friday he left us and the silence that often signaled him getting into something he shouldn't now is a deafening reminder my naughty boy is gone. Even with 3 other dogs in this house it is still too quiet. I keep passing his favorite spots and ache he is not there for me to whisper to.
The trouble? I'd take it all over again, a hundred times over. He was worth every shout, every worry, every penny. My red headed canine terror was also my greatest teacher and for that I am thankful. My "spirited" Irish boy rests now, deservedly so. May the road rise up to meet you Dugan, because heaven knows you will insist upon it.

Monday, October 31, 2011

2012 Friends of Lucky Fiona Calendar Winners

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Dugan Finn

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Photo Finalist #25 - Yoshi

Photo Finalist #24 - Teddy

Photo Finalist #23 - Susan of OESR's Rescue Setter ~ Molly

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