For lack of a better idea for a writing warm-up, here’s a roundup of all of my greyhounds over the years:
Stub: Our first grey, and an amazing ambassador for the breed. Yes, Stub was his official race name…his tail was shortened somewhat, by nature or accident we never found out. Brought a live opossum to the back door.
Dee: Abandoned at a local animal shelter, adopted by me and my mom (boy was my dad mad about that one for a hot minute). Hardcore diva, and gone far too soon from DCM.
Gina the First: Spicy little black dog, our first of that type. Had some of the most hideously toxic farts to ever issue forth from a canine rear.
Katy: Clinically insane. Would ricochet herself off furniture at such a speed we were in genuine fear she would launch herself out the window. Left a frozen plank rabbit in my parents’ bedroom.
Johnny: Another wonderful ambassador, and my best buddy along with our Aussie (we think) mix Mollie. Loved to lay on the couch with his paws across my lap.
Lars: Handsome boy, had a few screws loose. Actually made a few dog trainers cry.
Gina the Second: A carbon copy (no pun intended) of Gina the First. A regular little firecracker.
Star: Another diva, and my mom’s heart dog. A total brat, but we loved her.
Ranger: Our first cow dog, and our introduction to the quirks of that particular coat color. Yes, certain coat colors seem to lend themselves to certain behaviors. No, I don’t know why.
Parker: The second cow dog. Slightly less neurotic than Ranger.
Henry: The Eighth (not really…that’s just what I called him). Took a while to warm up to me, though in fairness, I was gone at college when he was first adopted.
Rose: Had the most ridiculously huge ears I have ever seen on a greyhound. No, seriously, they were roughly twice the size of what they should have been. Her father was owned by George Takei of Star Trek fame.
Summer: Tiny black girlie, and sweet as pie. Introduced herself to me by launching herself on top of me while I was sleeping.
Mouse: Even tinier black girlie, so small she didn’t make weight to race. Spicier than a Carolina Reaper. Broke the whole family’s heart with her very unexpected passing.
Jake: Littermate to Rusty, and boy did they act like it! Got adopted because the staff at the VMTH knew I was a sucker for a sob story, and I wasn’t about to let Jake be the only one who got sent back to the rescue group.
Rusty: My heart dog. Red-fawn, attitude in overdrive, sharp as a scalpel. Listened to nobody but me.
Suzy: A sweet and timid white and brindle who shattered my heart by passing at age eighteen months from an undiagnosed cardiac condition.
Rhea: My first foster failure. We were only supposed to have her a few weeks to months, but with how poorly she showed at adoption events (and how quickly she attached herself to the people in my house), a few weeks turned into eight years.
Thor: The lights were on, but nobody was home. Very sweet, but oh so dim. Put his head through a screen door because he forgot it was there.
Rex: Huge brindle and walking garbage disposal. Refused to miss a meal even on his last day on Earth.
Belle: Diva, and rules the roost. Regularly bosses the two males around, even though both of them have at least twenty pounds on her.
Scout: Cow dog, yodels like the Hound of the Baskervilles when the baby gets upset.
Jonah: Called by one of my friends a ‘counterfeit Belgian Malinois’ because of his coloring. Has the energy of the Malinois and the intelligence of a dead goat.
Only the last three are still with us. My family has had greyhounds since I was ten years old, so I am now looking at nearly three decades of experience with the breed. All of them were unique, with their own set of neuroses and quirks.
I miss all of them.
Hilary