The Lore of the Samhain

Though Raiju's name springs from Japanese folklore - the legendary thunder beast who rides the lightning - she became the mother of spirits from another tradition entirely when her final litter arrived on the most magical night of the Celtic calendar.

On October 31st, as the veil between worlds grew thin, Raiju brought forth four puppies destined to carry names from Celtic mythology. It was a fitting end to her breeding career: a litter born on Samhain, bridging the gap between the thunder of Japan and the misty magic of Ireland.

Raiju's storm cloud coat - that swirling blue brindle that earned her the name of the lightning beast - passed her electric spirit to each of these puppies. They carry both her fire and the ancient Celtic magic of the night they were born.

Meet Raiju

The Puca is one of the most iconic creatures of Celtic folklore - a shapeshifting trickster who roams the countryside, especially on Samhain night. It can take many forms: a goblin, a rabbit, a goat, or a human with animal features. But its favorite shapes are a black horse with glowing golden eyes - or a black dog, following travelers through the dark. Not to harm them. To watch over them.

The Puca embodies the unpredictable nature of the Otherworld. It might offer a wild midnight ride, galloping at terrifying speeds before dumping its rider in a ditch at dawn. It might whisper prophecies of the year to come. It might lead you into a bog - or guide you safely home. The Puca operates by rules mortals cannot quite understand.

But here's the secret the fearsome stories forget: the Puca has a soft heart.

In one of the oldest tales, the Puca befriended a farmer's son - the only human who ever showed it kindness. Night after night, the Puca carried the boy on wild rides across the countryside, and in return, the boy helped the Puca with the harvest. When the farmer gave the Puca a fine silk coat as thanks, the creature accepted it with a bow and said, "I have received my payment - I can help no more." And it vanished into the night, never to return.

This is the Puca's truth: guardian wrapped in trickster's clothing.

Our Puca

Our Puca was born on Samhain night, when his namesake's power runs strongest. But he seems to have inherited only the gentler magic.

He is the softest, sweetest soul we have ever produced - a marshmallow wrapped in mystery. He loves everyone he meets, leans into every hand that reaches for him, and has never met a stranger. If the mythological Puca is the trickster with a hidden heart of gold, our Puca skipped the trickster part entirely and went straight for the gold.

Puca is staying with us as a future stud dog. He will earn his titles, prove his health, and carry Raiju's legacy forward. But unlike his namesake, he will not vanish when the coat is given. The Puca who stays. The one who chose us back. The story rewritten with a different ending.

His coat is icy white, pale as winter frost. His eyes are the deep brown of freshly tilled earth - the Puca who guards the harvest, wearing the colors of snow and soil.

The soft-hearted trickster. The guardian who chose us. All the magic. All the sweetness. Ours forever.

Meet Puca

The Morrigan is one of the most powerful figures in Celtic mythology - a goddess of war, fate, and sovereignty. Known as the Phantom Queen, she haunts the edges of battlefields and the spaces between life and death. Her name alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of warriors, and her presence on the field could turn the tide of any conflict.

But the Morrigan did not fight. She shaped outcomes. She appeared as a crow circling above the carnage, choosing who would fall and who would rise. She was a prophetess who saw the future in blood and smoke, a shapeshifter who could become a wolf, an eel, a red heifer - whatever form served her purpose. She whispered courage into the ears of those she favored and dread into the hearts of those she did not.

Above all, the Morrigan was a protector of her people. Her ferocity was not cruelty - it was the fierce, burning guardian love of a mother wolf standing over her den. She fought not for glory but for those who could not fight for themselves.

Our Morrigan carries that same protective fire. She is bold, watchful, and fiercely devoted to her people. Her registered name honors the defender role her namesake embodied - the warrior who fights for the weak, the queen who guards the threshold between worlds.

Nuada Airgetlam - Nuada of the Silver Hand - was the first king of the Tuatha De Danann, the mythical race of gods and heroes who ruled Ireland before the coming of mortals. He led his people from the northern islands of the world to the shores of Ireland, carrying with him the knowledge of magic, craft, and sovereignty.

In the First Battle of Mag Tuired, Nuada lost his hand to the champion Sreng. Under the ancient law, a king with a blemish could not rule, and Nuada was forced to surrender his throne. But the physician Dian Cecht fashioned him a hand of silver - fully functional, gleaming like starlight - and the healer Miach later replaced it with a hand of flesh and blood. Restored and whole, Nuada reclaimed his kingship.

Nuada represents rightful sovereignty earned through sacrifice and restored through perseverance. He is the king who lost everything, endured the long exile, and returned stronger. His story is one of transition - the space between what was and what will be - which makes him a perfect spirit for a puppy born on Samhain, the night that stands between the old year and the new.

Our Nuada was born on Samhain night, carrying the name of the silver-handed king into a new world. He has his namesake's noble bearing - a quiet dignity that sets him apart, the calm certainty of one born to lead.

The name Maeve belongs to many queens. It echoes through centuries of Celtic mythology, shape-shifting with each retelling - from mortal warrior queen to immortal fairy sovereign, from the battlefields of Ireland to the moonlit courts of the Otherworld.

Queen Medb of Connacht was the original - a warrior queen who commanded armies, took lovers on her own terms, and launched the great Cattle Raid of Cooley because she refused to own less than her husband. Her name means "she who intoxicates," and she was as intoxicating as she was terrifying. She was no man's possession. She was the possession of no one at all.

But Medb was more than a warrior. She was a sovereignty goddess - a figure whose blessing was required for any man to be king. No man could rule Connacht without her consent and her bed. She embodied the land itself, and to win her favor was to win the right to rule.

Over the centuries, Medb transformed into Queen Mab - the fairy queen of English folklore, ruler of the Unseelie Court, mistress of dreams and mischief. Shakespeare gave her a chariot made of an empty hazelnut, but the older tales knew her true power. She rode at the head of the Fairy Rade on Samhain night, leading the wild hunt of spirits across the sky.

The fairy queen's domain is the wild places - the spaces between the tame and the untamed, where the forest meets the field, where the river meets the sea. She rules the in-between, and her power is strongest at the in-between times: dawn, dusk, and the turning of the year.

Maeve is the point where the mortal world and the Otherworld touch.

Our Maeve

Our Maeve embodies both sides of her namesake's dual nature. She was born on Samhain - the ultimate in-between time - and she has lived in the space between warrior and fairy queen ever since.

She was the pick of this litter from the moment she drew breath. Not because we chose her - because she chose us. The sovereignty goddess does not wait to be selected. She selects.

At sixteen weeks she had already begun collecting titles, swimming in lakes, hiking mountain trails, and generally conducting herself as though the entire world had been built for her personal amusement. She is bold without being reckless, confident without being pushy, and affectionate without being clingy.

Her coat is the deep red of autumn leaves - the color of the harvest, the color of the Fairy Rade. Her eyes are dark and knowing, the eyes of a creature who has seen the Otherworld and decided this one was more interesting.

Part warrior. Part goddess. Part faerie. All magic. Ours.

Meet Maeve