The other day I was talking with a couple of friends about greyhounds and how utterly magnificent they are. There's nothing quite so regal as a long and lean greyhound mincing along (or better still: running like the wind). Years ago, when Griffin was young, we looked into adopting a retired racing greyhound but for reasons I can no longer remember, and despite meeting several lovely canine candidates, we never did adopt one. There's a brindle female who lives in my neighborhood who I secretly covet and there's a pair of tiny silver Italian greyhounds who live on the other side of town that I also am wildly smitten with. I watch for them every time I find myself driving in their area. Were those two ever seen being walked by a tiny, decrepit and very weak-looking old lady, I would be out of my car in a flash and knocking her butt to the sidewalk while I made off with those little darlings. Unfortunately, their owner happens to be one very buff, very burly gym rat who looks like he eats girls my size for a midday snack. Alas, my love of this breed will remain (for now) from afar.
Portrait of Cody courtesy of kimw_01 on flickr.
Photo of Nell at the beach courtesy of bredlo on flickr.