Why Pet Tales Mattered

Hazel and Aiden

There we were after work yesterday at Osage Park, me and "the kids." We were taking our nightly walk when we passed this couple who were walking their own two adorable wiener dogs (a word I use only because, for the life of me, I cannot spell daucsand... dacsand... dauschand... aarrgh!). I also use the word "walking" in the spirit in which it was employed because they were actually pushing their elderly dogs in a baby stroller.  

Of course, we stopped to chat, as dog lovers often will, cooing over each other's pups, asking their names, their ages, their stories.  They were intrigued when they learned that Hazel and Aiden are ex-racing greyhounds. 

"Did you ever read that woman in the Chronicle?" the wife asked. "The columnist who wrote about her greyhound, Elvis?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied, flattered that anyone would remember Pet Tales since it ended more than two years ago.  "That was me."  Her enthusiastic response was equally flattering.

"Oh my gosh, I loved that column!" she exclaimed, asking shyly, "Can I hug you?" Now I realize that coming from a total stranger this might have been an strange request. But from someone who read the column and embraced its message, I understood her intentions and opened my arms to her. 

She shared how she had saved several columns, such as the ones about my first greyhound, Elvis, how I adopted my mother's greyhound, Lucy, and another story that I remembered well: the one about Kai, the Chihuahua. A pet psychic had said Kai wanted his photo taken with an abalone shell, which sounded like an odd and unlikely story. That is, until two days later when the owner took Kai to a beach and lo and behold, the dog suddenly bolted into a cave, unearthed a huge abalone shell almost twice his size, and then sat next to it and waited patiently.    

As we continued chatting, I was reminded why I so loved writing Pet Tales.  Its readers were people after my own heart, people who shared the almost fanatical, undying love I have for my dogs, and the affection and respect I hold for others. I met many readers over the column's 13 year lifespan, and each time there was an instant connection, thanks to the pets in our lives. 

After 20 minutes or so, we parted ways and I headed home, my heart warmed by the experience. It wasn't but five minutes before a Toyota SUV pulled up to the curb. The window rolled down and a woman called out, "Hey, are you Elvis' mom?"

I am indeed.