One Year Later

It was one year ago today that I entered the garage of Stu and Barbara Homer (who operate Golden State Greyhound Adoption) and met my new dog, Olivia.

The Homer's dark garage was brimming with double-stacked crates holding ex-racer hounds that were about to meet their new guardians and discover freedom after a lifetime of confinement. At the moment though, the dogs were unnaturally quiet. They had no idea of the wonders that awaited them in just a few hours. Instead, they appeared shell-shocked, having just left their Florida race track one week earlier to endure a 7-day cross-country ordeal in the back of a truck.

And there, among the dozens of dogs, I spotted my underweight little girl, her cage marked with her racing name, MamaLu. A striking red brindle, the 3-year old looked especially frightened and withdrawn. My heart melted. I couldn't wait to give her the home she deserved.

However, this didn't happen right away. That's because, as readers of this blog and my Pet Tales column know, Olivia's arrival coincided with the cancer diagnosis, three days later, of my other greyhound, Elvis. Instead of doting on my new dog, Olivia watched from the sidelines as I nursed Elvis through surgeries, sat with him through chemo, and rushed him to emergency to treat leaking incisions almost every single night for two months. It was a nightmare in the truest sense of the word. And a losing endeavor because three months later my beloved boy lost his battle.

But through my tears I realized there was still another life depending on me. Not just for food and shelter, but for the same love and devotion I had bestowed upon Elvis for nine years. I started seeing Olivia -- really seeing her-- for the first time and appreciating her unique spirit. Appreciating how lucky I was to have this dog help heal my grief-stricken heart.

Today, Olivia is affectionate, playful and giddy, every step she takes bouncing with paws of joy. She hates carrots, loves baths, sleeps with her eyes open, and has breath that smells like frogs.  And she loves to snuggle, something I would have never risked doing with the stiff, wary, suspicious Olivia of one year ago. Today's dog makes satisfied little "ummmm" sounds as I rub her belly, neck and ears, and uses her needle nose to nudge me when I stop.

This is the home that Olivia deserved. The home I envisioned before life threw a monkey wrench in the works. Better late than never.

Happy Anniversary, sweet puppy.

Kindness of People

I've had a lousy couple of weeks lately, stressing about this and that. Just life, you know. The usual.

But that's why two separate gestures from women I hardly know touched me so. They couldn't have guessed how I was feeling, or how such simple actions would help lift my spirits.

The first occured last Sunday at the Golden State Greyhound Adoption (GSGA) annual picnic. Earlier this year, when my sweet pup, Elvis lost his battle with cancer, I heard from hundreds of readers who follow this blog, as well as my Pet Tales column in the San Francisco Chronicle. I also heard from many greyhound guardians who belong to GSGA.

One such person was a woman named Catherine, who had emailed me, saying: "Providing updates on Elvis over the years has no doubt led to many Greyhound adoptions and presented a loving snapshot of what these wonderful animals contribute once they are released from race track slavery. Your grief is felt....."

At Sunday's picnic, I met Catherine who was as nice in person as her email implied. After talking a bit, she said she had a gift for me "...to celebrate Olivia's homecoming," she explained, handing me a stylishly simple ribbon bracelet with one single bead. "Think of your new dog every time you wear this bracelet."

Tongue-tied, I stammered an awkward "thank you," not really conveying how moved I was by the thoughtful gesture. But I wore the bracelet a couple times this week, and each time I glanced at it, I'd remember my goofy, loving, delirously joyful dog waiting for me at home and I'd smile. The bracelet, Olivia's token, achieved exactly what Catherine meant for it to do.

The second gesture came at Wednesday's book club meeting. There we were, sitting in a cozy circle in Anne's living room, chatting about movies, men, work, and, oh yes, the occasional book, when Susan said she had something for me. Now bear in mind, I've only socialized with Susan in our book club. She's always been warm and friendly, but I've never had the opportunity to get to know her better. 

Anyway, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small ceramic Greyhound statue. It had belonged to her daughter, she explained, who has always wanted a Greyhound. She left the statue behind when she moved out and Susan knew if there was anyone who would appreciate this item, it would be me.

The statue looks just like my sweet Elvis.

And so, now gracing my fireplace mantle is the Elvis statue circled with the Olivia token. Every time the two catch my eye, my heart is warmed: with love for my dogs past and present, as well as gratitude for the kindness of people who understand that love.