The Loving and Letting Go of a Dog

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.” From the song Nature Boy, written by eden ahbez

After only 11 weeks since “gotcha day”, we had to have our spectacular four and a half year old supremely handsome greyhound euthanized.

It was nobody’s fault he got sick. It was simply the bad luck of the draw, something from which he could not recover. We did everything we could for him medically and emotionally and in turn he gave his all but in the end the kindest thing we could do for him was to release him from his horrible pain.

This is the seventh pet my husband and I have had to let go of over our 25 years of marriage. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, dear pet lover, the devastation you feel. In fact, after putting down our third greyhound it took us two and a half years to heal our hearts enough to consider adoption again. We are partial to sighthounds, greyhounds in particular. We knew it was getting to be time again for dog love to fill our home when we both started commenting on greyhounds coming up for adoption. And then a few weeks later gorgeous Grayson came into our lives.

I am going to tell you a little bit about Grayson. Call it cathartic to write about him, but I also feel like he was an extraordinary boy that should have his “day in the sun”, even if it means an audience of only a handful of readers. He was the biggest greyhound we ever adopted.

Picture this: 84lbs of sheer athletic defined muscle, covered in soft fawn fur, his brown eyes contrasted with a dark kohl eyeliner, his muzzle dabbled with black. Greyhounds ears take every manner of position but Grayson regularly arranged his in an innocent forward-fold canopy which we called his “chapeaux”.

In eleven short weeks we had come up with a multitude of nicknames for him. One coined by my husband was “The Grindler” because Grayson had a massive toothy smile that would either warm your heart or terrify you, depending on how familiar you were with the breed. There are those hounds that will bare their front teeth while wagging to indicate their submission and friendliness to you. Without this knowledge, your heart may skip a beat as you look for the nearest escape route. So he was a smiler and a frequent “roacher” (gleefully laying on his back with paws in the air “like he just don’t care!”) and had this quirky habit of springing vertically in the air when he was delighted to meet another dog, an indication he wanted to play.

He was exactly like every greyhound we’ve ever met, yet so unique, so special in his own Grayson way. Have you ever read “The Little Prince”? If so, and if you have a pet, I’m sure you find the Fox’s wisdom relatable:

“To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me.

To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other.

To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world….”

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, “The Little Prince”

Being unique and special to a person or to a pet could be one of the most fulfilling and heartbreaking experiences in this life. Fulfilling in that you feel accepted and cherished for who you are. And heartbreaking when you watch your loved one suffering and know that unique bond with that unique entity will be severed.

In these eleven weeks, Grayson gave everything he could to show us he was learning his new home and to trust his new caregivers. He could not wait for his one to two walks a day. At five to six kilometers per walk he made a ton of doggy and human friends. And family members that got to meet him were smitten, always asking about Grayson and lighting up whenever we ran into them.

And then he got so sick.

Having a dog euthanized is… I would say “heartbreaking” is the best word for it since it physically feels like someone takes a chisel (not nice clean scalpel cut, but a dull dirty chisel) and pounds away on that life-giving organ until you erupt into sobbing which releases enough natural endorphins to give you a tiny sense of relief until another wave of emotional devastation hits.

But here is what I’ve learned and what my husband and I stand by. No matter the heartbreak, no matter the emotional anguish, staying with your pet and holding their paw until their very last breath and heartbeat is the best thing you can do for your pet. And for you. For us it provides a way to quietly express our deep appreciation to a pup that has given us nothing but trust and love. For our pets, they are not left looking for their humans, confused as to why, in their last hour of need, they are to face this unknown alone with strangers surrounding them instead of the humans that have — until this moment — fed, cared and cuddled with them.

While some may say I am anthropomorphizing what I interpret dogs’ thoughts and feelings to be, I will put my lifelong experience with pets (and articles I have read on this topic) forward as my own proof.

I do not write this to guilt anyone into doing something they cannot face doing. Believe me, I know it is a hard thing to do and I do not know you or your life circumstance. I submit to you that after a lifetime of an animal giving selflessly, for me personally I want to give what little I can back. What we overtly and subliminally learn from our pets — from our dogs in particular — is unconditional love and loyalty.

Leeloo was our “heartbreak” before Grayson. After treats were dispensed and tucked away she persisted with an earnest expression that perhaps there just MIGHT be more treats forthcoming, so we felt her life philosophy was “hope dies last”. Maybe that’s why we are opening our heart to another dog. This time a “lurcher” (a greyhound cross) named Dottie. We await her arrival and will give to her our everything, just like our others. We can’t wait to get to know her.

Inevitable heartbreak be damned, we will love again and however long we have her, we will be with her to the very end.

With special thanks to Northern Sky Greyhound Adoption Association and Ohio Lurcher Project for everything they do.