Rads, Rants, and Reasons to Laugh:

The Loveable, Bone-headed Irish Setter

By Cynthia Saarie

A friend of mine sent out this Ha-ha over the Facebook wires, and I caught a glimpse of something to make you laugh. We need to laugh. It breaks up bad things inside you and makes for great dreams and thoughts.

To make it even more fun, “Hey! It’s 4:20 time!”

In 1980, breeding Irish Setters (the hunting kind, not the kind with long flowing hair) taught me two things: patience and an appreciation for sleep—mostly because I rarely got any. With litters averaging nine and one memorable thirteen-puppy circuses, I became a full-time mom to both the pups and their exhausted mother. Feeding half while swapping the other kept me hopping, and let’s just say coffee wasn’t optional.

These dogs were born to hunt, trained to heed vocal and hand commands, and, ideally, fearless in the field. But here’s the kicker—not all of them passed muster. About half the litter would freeze up faster than you can say “boom” at the sound of a shotgun.

Those adorable flunkies became lovable couch potatoes, AKC papers, and all. Irish setters are great with kids and cats. We had both.

Seeing this list of “crossbreeds” had me laughing (and cringing) all over again. A “Collapso” that folds for easy transport? Where was that when I was swapping puppies at feeding time? Or a “Moot Point”—a dog that doesn’t even matter? Trust me, when it comes to hunting Irish Setters, “terribull” doesn’t even cover it for the scaredy-dogs.

As for me, I kept one: the runt of the last litter, Irish Ladie Colleen’s Bonnie Brown. Spayed, spoiled, and entirely gun-shy, she lived the good life for nine years. A “Commute” dog that travels to work? Nah, Bonnie was more the “Retire” breed—true to the end. Or, maybe she was an “Irish Spud”, a couch potato, and fun.