What makes a Dog special?

Shortly after he joined our family I read somewhere that Irish Setters are special, and that they know it. It's difficult to say when I started to regard our - my - dog truly as a special being. The process was a gradual one, unnoticed for a long time. In fact, on the first morning after he had joined our family I would have gladly returned him had my wife not pleaded his case. On the last morning some twelve years later the need to make a final decision felt like destroying half of my own soul.

Even today, almost a year later, I cannot pinpoint what exactly made him so very extraordinary. It was not so much a single outstanding characteristic as the combination of all his quirks, his features. There was absolute trust, immense cheerfulness [up until the day before his last], alert attention, a very strong will to get his way just the way he wanted it, cheekiness, daring even, often living "close to the edge" with a smile in his eyes. And there was his patience when he couldn't be the centre of attention.

As a young dog of about eight months of age he started to suffer from a condition called Panosteitis, causing regular periods of several weeks limping on one of his front legs followed by a few weeks of pain-free normality. Animals grow out of the disorder when maturing. He never did, not really.

When he was fully grown he still limped several times a year. Not for the earlier four to five week stretches but badly enough, several times a year, often a week to ten days, to make him aware that there were some limits. For many years I suspected a splinter of glass acquired when he was about two years old and never fully recovered despite three ops. I now have reason to believe an irregularity on his upper spine, seen on an x-ray two years before his death, to have caused him the frequent periods of pain.

He could play on his occasional need to be given a hand, knowing full well that we knew the cause of his current "symptoms" to be no more than lack of attention. And that I would still get up and "scratch his back" because a cuddle has never harmed anyone. Yes, of course he was spoilt. But in such a way nobody could ever object to.

He could be a real pain. Knowingly. Pretending it wasn't him who sighed, who made me look up from a book; was at first astonished, then annoyed, when in later years I copied the very same sigh he used to tease me with.

Because of his health problems he received more attention than would have been normal. Because of this attention he was attentive himself. And when we were inattentive - it did happen - he put his foot down, once, twice, several times, followed by a stern look. It's a real pity we never caught this on video.

Irish Setters are said to be - depending on whom you talk to - either very scatty or very intelligent. Mine didn't have a scatty moment in his life, could teach you the meaning of single-minded determination. He knew what door handles are for when the first one he came across blocked his path - briefly. Most new games and exercises were picked up on first attempt. Others he refused point blank. All his life - except when he was truly poorly - he was very attentive, expecting entertainment, action, life. Whenever I said "now then..." inadvertently, he was ready. Last time I tried to fool him, to cheat him of his favourite snack - about 36 hours before he died - he serenely raised head and eyebrows. I will never forget the "Shouldn't you know that by now"-look he gave me.

Illnesses and occasional injuries aside we used to have, to share, a lot of fun. Enjoyment was the order of the day, even if sometimes I should not have had a long lunch break. If you start playing you forget, you live. Laughing is better for you anyway. And who said you have to come home squeaky clean?

I remember many an occasion when people stopped me to comment on his behaviour, his apparent like for arguments, discussions, or just plain old answering back, always knowing I was having as much fun as he had.

Most of the time the real "negotiations" didn't require anything more than a look, a nod, a wink or a hint of a gesture for him to understand. He somehow learnt the meaning of hand signals soon after he became part of the family. He watched out for "signals" till the day he died.

I am sure that at first, when it became apparent that he would be in pain repeatedly for up to two years, the stronger than normal bond was caused in part by pity. Later there was nothing but admiration, respect, enormous pride, and gratitude for what he gave.