Saying Goodbye to a Faithful Friend

Seven years ago on Valentine's Day, my sweet husband and I went to pick up the newest member of our "family", a beautiful sight-hound, a retired racer. We were taken to a small trailer for a short discussion on what to expect from our new hound.

There were many people there that day to pick up their new family members so several Greyhounds were led in at one time, and then a small lady with dark hair led in the most beautiful brindle greyhound I'd ever seen...

Immediately upon the hounds entrance, the small trailer filled with the most foul smell. One of those gorgeous hounds was emitting some green *green* gas.

The first option you're given is to change the name. Greyhounds are given a race name and a kennel name so that when people are shouting for them while they are running, they don't stop or get confused. Since it was Valentine's Day, we decided on Cupid. *Cupid, the god of love* There couldn't have been a better fit of a name than Cupid for our hound.

One of the things that they tell you is that Greyhounds don't know about the outside world and everyday objects. Things like glass or mirrors need to be introduced to the hound. *yes, yes, we shook our heads vigorously to signal our understanding* Well, upon leading my fabulous new hound out of the park I let him walk right into the glass door. *thankfully, they didn't make me give him back*

Off and loaded into the car *yay* we get to take Cupid home. Well, *yay* Until we realized that it was OUR HOUND who had been stinking up the trailer the whole time! *laughing* We were accompanied by a nervous dog with irritable bowels the whole 10 miles home. *panting out the front end and "poofing" out his back end*

He was so funny in front of a mirror for the first time looking at his image and trying to play with his reflection. Pawing at it and barking madly when the dog pawed back at him.

He literally crawled up onto the couch placing his two front paws up and then reach, reach, reaching (like he was trying to scratch and itch) with one back leg, finding the cushion and then hopping up with the other and laying down as quickly as possible in hopes that we didn't see him.

He much preferred to be in his kennel rather than anywhere near my husband or I.

If you've never been around Greyhounds; yes, they are big, but oh so graceful and loving! It didn't take long for Cupid to understand that we were his "pack," his new best friends. We put the kennel in the garage after a few short weeks. Greyhounds simply love you to bits-and-pieces and you are given absolutely no choice but to love them back. Cupid was a fantastic dog. A perfect running partner. The sweetest man. We lovingly called him "Shadow" since he needed to be with one of us at all times. *sigh* I remember getting mad at him when I cleaned house because every time I turned around - there he was - primed to be stepped on. *yelp, hurt look in his eyes*

He hated it when my husband or I would sit down to put our shoes on and he'd make every attempt to hinder any "shoe putting-on efforts" - he knew we'd be leaving once those things were on our feet. Well, unless they were THE running shoes. He'd jump 3 feet off the ground - again, and again, and again - wagging his tail and smiling with his big tongue sticking out. "We're going for a RUN!" *sproing, sproing, sproing* "We're going for a RUN!"

On one particular run a man called out, "I'd like to place a bet that the hound wins" as we ran by. *laughing*

Our dear Cupid eventually developed kidney problems stemming from his days at the race track. The problems led to kidney failure. It's a common condition that happens in Greyhounds and nothing can be done to turn it around.

My hopeful husband took Cupid to the veterinarian on Monday, February 16, had blood work done and told the doctor to be brutally honest. The doctor called later that evening and told my husband exactly what he didn't want to hear... Cupid was suffering and should be put down as soon as possible.

It was a horrible night filled with tears and hugging our huge hearted Cupid. I held his beautiful long head in my hands and looked into his eyes and he eventually fell asleep. (It's hard to sleep when you're being watched) My husband continuously stroked his soft coat and we cried together. Cupid slept with us on the bed all night. Each time he would move, I'd tear up, pet him, hug him and watch him fall back to sleep.

Yes, it was a horrible night, but an even worse morning. We got up early and took Cupid to the park. He walked around, grew very tired and then we coaxed him back into the car. Arriving at the vet's office was so terribly difficult. We led Cupid around the parking lot and let him sniff the trees and lay in the grass on the small island many times before we made that fateful pass into the office. Cupid had to be coaxed in. Nothing good happens past that door...

They have delicious carob treats and Cupid had had no appetite up until this point, but he went for those treats like a madman. Our huge muscley man had withered from a healthy weight of 105 to a scary skeletal 85.

We led him back to a small room and held one another, stroked and hugged Cupid and cried, our hearts breaking more and more with every second that passed.

The doctor came in, confirmed one last time how bad things had gotten and assured us that we were making the "proper choice." This was my first experience of making the choice to put a beautiful animal to sleep. Up until this point my mom always handled "that sort of thing."

The doctor lifted our big fellow up and laid him on a padded table while my husband and I continued petting him, tears streaming down our faces - hearts breaking and aching.

I held Cupid's head while the doctor inserted the needle into his hind leg and slowly administered the drug.

My husband has the biggest heart and was filled with more grief than I've ever witnessed. He was sobbing, whispering how he'd never forget him, how he'll always love him, all the while holding Cupid's head in his hands while the last of our faithful companions heart beats resounded in his chest, the last of his breaths whispering lightly on my cheek. We must have been there for another hour, just crying and stroking his soft beautiful fur.

I asked my husband if he wanted to take Cupid's collar and he said, "No, it's his." Our big sweet fellow will be creamated, his ashes returned to us within the week. *sigh*

Things are so lonely at home now. No sweet hound to greet us at the door, wagging his big wacky tail. No hesitant hound to hinder the shoe ceremony. No Cupid.