Upon retiring from a Florida racetrack, Clara was adopted by home #1. After having her for three months, her owners moved to Southern California and they decided it was easier to surrender their dog than move her with them.
And so, Clara was adopted by home #2. Here, she stayed for three years until the couple's other dog died, and they determined Clara wouldn't do well as an "only dog." Instead of adopting a companion for her, Clara was surrendered. Again.
Now maybe the first two homes just flat out didn't want poor Clara and each time was merely a "relinquish for convenience" as the expression goes. Or maybe they honestly couldn't keep her. I have no idea who these people were or what their circumstances entailed, so I won't judge.
Well, maybe I will, just a little.
Because I would do whatever it took to keep my dog. Sleep in my car, escape to Canada, join the Witness Protection Plan. After living with this sweet, gentle girl for just seven months, let alone three years, I would be fighting anyone tooth and nail to keep her. Or to paraphrase Charlton Heston, any dog of mine would have to be pried from "my cold, dead hands."
But whatever. Last March, Clara was surrendered. Again. This time, however, it was a positive move because she went to a couple I personally know; they were my dog sitters for Hazel and Aiden. Finally, Clara struck gold! She was in a loving home with two dedicated humans and three other greyhounds for canine companionship. That is, until the wife passed away unexpectedly and the bereaved husband was left with four dogs, too many to handle by himself. He kept one while our rescue group stepped in and helped rehome the other three. And Clara was surrendered. Again.
That's where I enter the picture.
When Stu (our Golden State Greyhound Adoption founder) called me in November, I said yes before the words were done coming out of his mouth. Sight unseen. That's because Stu knows me, knows I have a neurological condition that causes walking challenges, and knows I need an even tempered, well-behaved dog. Since losing my beloved Hazel in April of 2021 to liver cancer, Aiden had been lonely and I've always said I'm happiest with a dog under each arm. If Stu said Clara would be a good fit, that's all I needed to hear.
He was right. Clara bonded with Aiden immediately, sticking to his side like green on grass, doing whatever he did, mimicking his every move. Bolting up the stairs, using the doggie door, and even waiting in line to get her teeth brushed or have her leash put on for a walk. If Aiden did it, she had to do it too. She was bonding more with him than me, but that was okay. I was delighted with their relationship and knew in time she'd come around. I just wanted her to feel safe.
Then the unthinkable happened. Two months ago, Aiden woke up with his back legs paralyzed. A frantic trip to Pacific Veterinary Specialty and Emergency Hospital and an MRI revealed a bone tumor on his spine that was crushing his nerves. Damned dreaded osteosarcoma. Although I was prepared to pursue back surgery, the surgeon gently told me I should put him down immediately because the tumor was inoperable and causing immense pain. And so, through a river of tears and a heavy heart, I said goodbye to my goofy, funny, gentle boy. Aiden had just turned eight.
My pain was beyond description, but what this also meant was yet another loss for Clara. For weeks, every morning she searched the house looking for Aiden. Was he in the kitchen? Hiding in the living room? Maybe in the yard? Where was her buddy? Then, when she couldn't find him, she'd start howling in a mournful way that pierced my heart. She was inconsolable, not eating, not playing with her toys, not wanting to go on walks. She just hid in my spare bedroom, the one that she and Aiden had once shared.
Clara's doing better now, mainly thanks to my awesome greyhound community that has shared their dogs with me to help provide her with canine companionship. Still, she's lonely, I can tell. This is a dog that clearly enjoys the company of other dogs more than she does humans. Maybe because she knows that, unlike humans, dogs will never disappoint.
The other night I joined my girl on her pillow in the spare bedroom, the one she never leaves except for walks and meals. I cradled her in my arms, faced her nose-to-nose, and told her I love her, this is her forever home, and she is never going away. I'm convinced that dogs understand more than we give them credit for, so call me crazy but I talk to my dogs. Clara just stared at me with an unwavering gaze. The next night I did the same thing. And the night after that. And last week, for the first time since adopting her, Clara joined me in my bedroom where she has slept every night since. Now, while I'm watching TV, she's also keeping me company on her pillow next to the sofa. She just lies there, looking at me with her head nestled between her paws. I think it's starting to sink in.
I love her and this is her forever home. She is never going away.
