Nice article from Mike Gayle of The Guardian -- on how wonderful greyhounds are!

[cgingrich]

We wanted a big dog, but not too big; a young dog, but not a puppy. We came home from the rescue centre with a huge eight-year-old hound

Although I am naturally quite shy, we talked to strangers all the time on our walks. I say “we” because while Sail, my rescue greyhound, was mostly silent during these interactions, I was keenly aware that without him my daily chats wouldn’t happen.

My wife had lobbied hard for a dog for years, but I come from a family that doesn’t really do pets. Over time, my stance softened and we welcomed Pip, a netherland dwarf house rabbit, into our lives, followed by another, called Milo. Lovely though they were, they weren’t a dog.

Every parent who, like us, had teenagers insisted that dogs were great for family bonding. The tipping point came when friends brought over their rescue lurcher. Rather than being yappy and excitable, she was chilled to the point of being horizontal, napping contentedly on her bed for the entire visit. This, I decided, was my kind of dog.

Overjoyed that I was open to the idea of a sighthound, my wife booked us in to see a four- year-old female rescue greyhound. In theory, this pooch fitted the bill perfectly: we wanted a big dog, but not too big; a young dog, but not a puppy.

Reader, we came home with a huge male dog who, at eight, was easily one of the oldest hounds at the centre.

The beautiful blue with the soulful amber eyes got off his bed to sniff us through the bars of his kennel and immediately had our hearts. We took him for a test walk and, halfway through, I begged my wife to call the shelter in case anyone nabbed him before we could. “He has to be ours,” I said. “He was made for us.” Sail was with us for the rest of his life, a total of five and a half years.

And what wonderful years they were. I will never forget the day he stole a huge baguette from the dining table, or the time he picked up a dead squirrel in the park, forcing us to remove it from his mouth. Fun times, indeed.

But it is our walks I remember most fondly. My proximity to such a handsome, elegant dog seemed to encourage people to stop and chat. They would scratch his ears, ask his age and enquire about his former life as a racer. Some told me their life stories, others simply passed the time of day, but all engaged with me in a way they never would have if Sail had not been with me.

The end, when it came, last October, was mercifully quick. His back legs became weak, he went off his food and an emergency visit to the vet confirmed that it was time. On his final day, we treated him like the king he was: snuggled up on the sofa, he ate smoked salmon and scrambled eggs for breakfast and M&S chicken for dinner; in between, he was showered with all the hugs and kisses he could handle.

We were devastated at his passing and the hole he has left in our lives is huge. He gave me a glimpse into how friendly the world can be when you walk through it with a wonderful dog by your side.

[cgingrich]

Just a note that this describes Mr. Gayle's dog ~

[EllenEveBaz]

It is indeed a wonderful story.  

Someone else posted it recently with the beautiful picture that accompanied it.  

[DocsDoctor]

Here's the other thread (started by me!)