spottydog Posted June 14, 2016 Share Posted June 14, 2016 (edited) A mere two weeks after a diagnosis of osteosarcoma, we released our beautiful hound Django (Tom S Fandango) into the mystery. He was 11 and a half, and until very recently, in superlative health. He came to us at the age of three, after a reasonably successful racing career in Colorado, joining two cats and an elderly lab cross. He was tall, slim and extremely handsome. Walking him was like being escorted by a movie star; everyone gawked. In fact, I tended to think of him as a kind of James Bond figure of a greyhound, calm, reserved, elegant but with a slight tendency towards violence. He would get overstimulated seeing any dogs that weren't greyhounds and leap around like a marlin on a leash, growling and carrying on. Once we were charged by an angry off-leash dog and I stepped in front of him to block him, and he bit ME in the crotch...Eventually, we were able to train him out of this with the aid of the ever-present cookie bag. Far too dignified to roach, and my efforts to get him to roo only resulted in an embarrassed half bark. Nor was he a cuddler, although he did like an afternoon nap on the bed with his people. He was good with all kinds of people and all greyhounds, and we loved him as the reserved gentleman he was. We will miss his morning rituals of head butting the bottom of the bed, the bum scritch samba and the face rubbings demanded, among a thousand other silly things. Left to mourn, dog mothers Margo and Lori, mutt brother Perrie Como, cat brother Chester, full brother Tom S Formula of Calgary, and seven thousand half siblings. Run fast, sweet Django. You are loved. Telling the thunder gods what he thought of them. A veteran camper. A man in his pit. Edited June 14, 2016 by spottydog Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.