Yesterday we said goodbye to our greyhound, Angus, lost to bone cancer at age 12. In his prime he was nearly 90 pounds of muscle, with tattoos in his ears revealing his birth month/year and order in the litter. A mass-produced, throwaway animal became one of the centers of our universe and a joy for nine of the 10 years my wife and I have known each other.
When he saw another greyhound in the park, Angus would strike a handsome pose from far away, then prance over excitedly for a sniff. He looked like a king at those moments.
Somehow Angus’s little sister, Margot, our little lab mix, will get through the loss. She’s been skipping meals for weeks. It’s a known fact that dogs can smell cancer. That, plus changes in Angus’s behavior, clued her in a while ago that something was deeply wrong.
We take comfort in remembering Angus’s long and happy life. Many unsuccessful racing dogs are almost literally thrown out with the trash or sold for experiments. But they are incredibly loving, low-maintenance house pets, and thanks to a plethora of rescue organizations around the country the situation is improving. If you’re in the market, Google “greyhound rescue” and look into it. These dogs need homes.
2 Comments
I'm sorry for your loss.
I'm sorry for your loss David. May your family be comforted by the many fond memories you have of Angus.