It started with a message from our greyhound rescue organization. They had a puppy, which is rare in the world of greyhound rescue. Jen, me, and the two older dogs decided we would add the little guy to the household. He came home at Thanksgiving.
It wasn’t always easy, as puppies rarely are. He chewed up the carpet and much of a chair. He went for Huey’s dinner once, resulting in a bite wound under his eye that required stitches. As a young dog, he ate everything he could find on the
sidewalk, from the bark on trees to cicadas to plastic to rocks. He had big ears that we thought he’d grow into and never really did. (He could make them look like a comb-over.) He had a deformed lower jaw that gave him the overbite of the Simpsons’ dog. And he was unusually narrow for a greyhound, looking like an exaggerated Gorey cartoon of the breed. He adored snow. But he was a smart, sweet guy who was a fast learner that grew into a lovely adult dog. And he was the softest greyhound we’ve ever met, the Velveteen Greyhound.
Deemed unfit to race early on, he got to be a domestic animal from the age of five months, and the cuddliest greyhound we’ve ever known. He tolerated us moving more than a greyhound’s normal comfort zone (zero change preferred) and made new friends in every neighborhood. His friendly demeanor on the street even got him acting work, when a neighbor arranged for him to act in an independent film shot in Fort Greene.
He was a happy, healthy dog right up to the seizure Friday night, and then he was gone. We miss him terribly, but celebrate the time we had with him.
Goodbye old friend.