Nina insists I write an entry introducing you to Conan. Well, let’s see….
We found him nearly a year ago now, during one of our hikes at the Ethan Allen Homestead trail in the spring. We’d stopped to admire the view, and I sketched the wild flowers while Nina chatted at me. She was sitting on the ground when suddenly a little red ball threw itself out of the bushes and straight into her lap, wriggling and licking as if she’d known it all along. Of course, it was love at first site for her- who can resist such an enthusiastic puppy- but I was much more hesitant. The pup had a collar on, and appeared to be a purebred setter. I felt it was surely lost and well missed. Much to Nina’s relief I was wrong, and when we found no trace of its owners, he moved in for good.
As for his name, Nina has an unusual interest in Ireland and Gaelic. When looking up names online, we came across Conan, meaning hound, or wolf, in Gaelic. Me being a fan of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his works, it seemed a suitable name, and so it was settled. Of course, if we’d have known about his almost unnatural love of water, we might’ve gone with something more maritime…
