Not Just English Setters
Along with our pure-breds, we have always had mixed breeds of one type or another: rescues, strays, even a drop-off or two (i.e., a pup abandoned along the road by some complete idiot). Below, as time goes on, we will be featuring our current pups and past pups, good pups all and dearly loved by us as well as by our English Setters. And in the case of those no longer with us, dearly and at times, nearly unbearably, missed.
We will also be featuring at some point in the future (either here or on an additional page) formerly abandoned English Setters which were "rescued" by knowing and caring individuals and some of which have then gone on to win important championships ~ which we feel is an important issue to raise on our pages as there seems to be a growing number of English Setters ending up in shelters these days, for whatever reasons.
It is also worth mentioning here that all of our pups are tattooed so that if something unfortunate happens which results in their being mis-laid, lost or abandoned ~ or in the sad event that an owner is unable to care for them anymore ~ that they can find their way back home to us ~ and that we encourage other breeders of all dogs to exercise the same responsibility.
It is not only English Setters which are a Lifestyle here, it is other dogs as well.
In the meantime, we encourage our readers to support local animal welfare organizations, most of whom are in a constant struggle to provide needed services, especially with the added burden of today's economy. Even donations of newspapers and old towels and blankets can help immensely and most organizations and shelters have lists at the ready of what items they need most.
"Children and dogs are as necessary to the welfare of our country as Wall Street and the railroads." ~~ Harry S. Truman
"Your name isn't William, it's Willy!" ~~ George S. Patton, to his beloved dog, named after William the Conqueror, after it was panicked by a much smaller dog; Patton and his infamous dog, Willie, are shown in a rare light-hearted photo to right
"If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience." ~~ Woodrow Wilson
"Properly trained, a man can be dog's best friend." ~~ Corey Ford
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Count Mortimer Bondhu2You2
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by John Fetters
© 2008-2009 Fetters Setters, all rights reserved
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The Lady of the House received a call from the local SPCA 20 years ago in July of 1989. While she received frequent calls from them at the time, this call was to turn out to be the most memorable phone call of them all.
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The SPCA had raided an area property. However when they arrived on the scene, the animals and the people seemed to have disappeared (the SPCA officers were disturbed by this unexpected result, later relating they felt the culprits had been "tipped off" somehow). Although The Lady of the House was not told of this recent raid at the time of their call to her.
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That particular day, the frustrated SPCA officers decided to still thoroughly search the property even though no animals or people were readily apparent, only the too clear evidence of the abuse and neglect which been occurring there over a period of time.
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On one last "run through" inspection of the house on the property however, one of the SPCA officers noticed a slight movement in a massive pile of dirty laundry on the floor. Gently removing the top layers of the filthy pile, the officer found a small scared pup ~ so small, he easily fit in just one hand with ample room left over.
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Not even having hardly opened his eyes for the first time very long before, he was only about four weeks old. Ultimately, the fate of his family and the other dogs which had been there with him were never to be known.
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Covered with fleas, visibly under-nourished and bloated with worms, he was taken back to the SPCA, checked over by their volunteer veterinarian (who confirmed his approximate age) and The Lady of the House was called and asked to immediately go to the local shelter (but again, not told why at the time of the call).
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Having volunteered her talents for publicity and other endeavors with the local shelter for some time ~ and already having another five-year-old small Benji-type dog out of the same shelter at the time ~ she was told instead that there was a dead-lined document which needed her immediate work and review.
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Always at their beck and call when her schedule permitted, she left for the shelter within the hour.
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Upon her arrival there ~ and after becoming somewhat puzzled after reviewing a document which had been perfectly executed ~ she was handed the tiny little flea-covered pup and when she asked whose pup he was, she was told he was hers ~ that they knew she had some "small dog" experience, was acutely aware of their special needs ~ and that she was the only person they knew "who could give him a fighting chance."
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It was July 1989, in the middle of the summer ~ she had both of our children with her, then just seven and eight years of age ~ and after getting into the car with the small pup in tow, she handed the pup to our son (who was sitting in the back seat) and told the children to come up with a name for him.
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After looking intently at the tiny pup's somewhat bewildered big-eyed face for only a moment, our son said, "His name is Mort. He looks like a Mort." And so Mort it was and Mort it has been ever since. His very first flea bath was in the small guest bathroom sink as soon as he arrived home.
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Our Benji-type rescue, Woody, took to him right away, and the children ~ heeding our explicit warnings ~ took Mort outside to see the neighborhood kids only occasionally. They also consistently heeded our further warning (never having to be repeated) that while the neighborhood kids could pet him ~ very gently and very briefly ~ that the neighborhood kids were never to be allowed to hold him at any time.
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Not only to prevent an unintended injury, our children were told, but also so the little pup would not become confused and perhaps try to follow one of the other children home. Later on in his life and to this day, he rarely lets another person get close enough to pick him up at all, preferring to stay close to his own human and canine family.
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For over the first year of his life, he had no hair on his stomach at all ~ so old baby socks were unpacked and cut with side holes in the cuffs for small sweaters to keep him warm. He also did not bark for the first year or so, although he made a wide variety of other sounds ~ including "quacking" like a duck (which he still does to this day and which proved to eventually be amazingly effective "babe bait" for our son when he got older).
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When Mort and his older Benji-type brother, Woody (also an SPCA rescue), were left home alone, they were supplied with ample biscuits and the tv was left on ~ always to something "non-violent" but mostly turned to PBS, where they watched multiple episodes of Sesame Street over time.
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As a result, Mort began to "talk" even more and still talks much more than he barks to this day. Indeed, there are times when he has a lot to say and fully expects us to have a full conversation with him ~ and will grow more insistent until we oblige him. When something unexpected happens, it is not unusual to hear a very clear "uh oh" out of him at times.
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We also suspect as a result of Sesame Street, that he learned how to spell, as spelling such words as "bath," "out," "go,," "biscuit"or any other topic that interests him seems to be in vain as he always seems to know what we are talking about anyway.
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With all of our English Setters, we decided before long that Mort needed a more distinguished moniker so he would not feel slighted by all the English Setters with two or three "official" names ~ and so "Count Mortimer Bondhu To You Too" was settled upon and we occasionally work on his "pedigree." And being called "Count Mortimer" or "The Count" makes him very happy and proud.
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Mort is part Chihuahua ~ he weighs between six and eight pounds depending on the time of year and what he has been eating ~ and our best guess is that he also has some Boston Terrier and possibly even Pug in his mix ~ although he also seems to have a distinctively happy Beagle tail which wags nearly constantly.
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He's not much of a bird dog , but he is deadly on bugs. And picking up tips here and there from our English Setters, he points with a 10 o'clock Osthaus-style tail.
.P . He has an "amazing metabolism" and even though he is 20 years old now, he still has all of his teeth. 
Early on in his life, we made sure he had a constant supply of hard biscuits (green Milkbones are his favorite), quality kibble and rawhide chewies to exercise his teeth on and help keep them strong.
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As a child, The Lady of the House had witnessed other miniatures who were fed nothing but canned food and given nothing substantial to chew ~ small dogs which subsequently began losing teeth at as young as six years of age. So we set out to prevent this in Mort if we could, and indeed it seems to have worked quite well.
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Although we have always watched the amount of "people food" our pups eat (cutting back when they put on a little weight, over-weight being the number one problem and killer of America's house pets), Mort learned early on to "regulate" himself and now always has a biscuit or two or some hard kibble after eating any "people food.".
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If he begins to bulk up a little, we make sure he gets a little more exercise and cut back on his portions of "people food" until he gets back to his trim and fit self. And since the first year of his life, he has also insisted on having a biscuit or two at bed-time ~ which not only seems to comfort him, but seems to help further with his regulation as well.
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And Mort does love "people food," having a sweet tooth as well as a preference for Italian dishes and seafood. He adores homemade bread and rolls, as well as (the real) Danish Butter Cookies, oatmeal cookies, molasses cookies, Fig Newtons, peanut butter anything, apple anything, potato anything (including but not limited to potato salad), ice cream, any kind of seafood including smoked oysters and salmon ~ and any kind of olives, particularly olives stuffed with anchovies.
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He also loves "hot" spicy chili (his Mexican heritage, no doubt) as well as salad, vegetables and fruits of all kinds ~ and of course, all the game birds our English Setters bring home with them after a day afield.
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Over time ~ and especially after the children were grown and gone ~ he has decided he "owns" me ~ and is like my little shadow, constantly concerned about where I am and what I am doing.
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Except for a nasty bee sting when he was very young, he had never had a serious injury so we made an appointment to take him to the veterinarian the next morning. As it turned out, he had somehow torn a cartilage in his "knee."
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The veterinarian immediately pronounced him "too old" for an operation and recommended a certain calcium supplement found in health food stores ~ calcium lactate ~ which has particularly effective absorptive qualities ~ to be given to him daily (in cheese) and also applied directly to the injury.
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And the veterinarian also cautioned not to hold out much hope ~ especially considering his age ~ for a full recovery. However when told about all the "people food" he adores, although she did not heartily approve of his eclectic "diet," she also happily told us that at his age, "let him eat whatever he wants to eat."
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As far as his leg injury, for months upon months daily and more, we wrapped his knee for added support with a cut-to-size Ace bandage ~ a process which he patiently and even good-humouredly endured ~ and great care was taken to keep him warm as cold seemed to aggravate the injury further.
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We also massaged and excercised his leg a couple of times a day for longer and longer periods of time to prevent muscle deterioration. Stairs seemed to bother him, so we had been patiently carrying him up and down although by then he had begun wanting to be let down on the last few steps to climb on his own up or down, and so had begun making some improvement there in small phases.
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Months and months later, his knee was a little better but he still had a pronounced limp. However he suddenly took an interest in all kinds of fruit he had never eaten before, particularly the exotic kinds: mangoes, papaya, strawberries, pineapple, kiwi, even an occasional bite of Clementine. We began stocking regular supplies of these types of fruit and he ate some every day.
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After embarking on this daily "fruit regimen," his leg began improving dramatically and he soon began walking all the way up and down the stairs by himself. Not even a year after his injury, he was not limping at all and unless you knew he had once had that type of injury, you would never even begin to guess it by his movements now. And he still likes all kinds of fruit until this very day.
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From the time he was about a year old, he has snored like a "drunken sailor" (as The Lady of the House likes to say). In the past few years, particularly, he loves making a little "nest" for himself in a blanket and can fall asleep in the strangest positions at times.
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He is not as active as he used to be, although still remarkably so. He does take more naps now, sleeps sounder now (like a small pup) and his hearing is not quite as good as it used to be ~ or he only hears what he wants to hear, as The Lady of the House has suggested at times.
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He is also a little far-sighted now (not seeing things up close as well) but is still as love-able as ever ~ as long as he can be "The Boss."
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The English Setters all absolutely adore him and the older male pups in particular follow him around and try to imitate him like he is their hero. We suspect he is as patient as he is with them because he knows they will also be bringing more delicious game birds home with them before too long.
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He enjoys this attention from our English Setters immensely, as long as they respect his biscuit stash ~ and is always more than happy to receive their sloppy kisses or let them put his entire head in their mouths. .
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Except for the occasional Academy Award-quality "put-on pout" (when he doesn't get his way), he is constantly a happy little guy and has made our lives immensely joyful as well.
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