


We lost our beloved Gavin the Greyhound last night. He had been having a rough time lately and yesterday he stopped eating completely, even when Matt cooked him a steak, so we knew it was time. I don't think most of our friends in Columbus have heard the whole Gavin story, so I thought I'd write it here.
Matt and I saw a show about rescued greyhounds sometime around 1999, when we were engaged and living in Toronto. We heard they were good apartment dogs, so we started to investigate. We found
G.L.O.H.W. , a rescue organization that brings greyhounds from the northeastern U.S. into southern Ontario. We went through a rigorous application process. They called all of our references to make sure that we would make good doggie parents and even made a home visit (complete with sample greyhound). Then they put us on a waiting list.
We finally got the call in October of 2000. They had a three-year-old male named Okie Ridge who was ready to transition out of foster care and into his permanent home. As far as they knew, "Okie," who we immediately renamed Gavin, was born in 1997 on a puppy farm in West Virginia and then spent his racing career on a track in Connecticut. He was retired when he stopped winning. G.L.O.H.W. had him neutered and then put him in foster care on a farm for a couple of weeks while they tried to place the right dogs with the right owners. We got Gavin because he showed signs of being cat-aggressive and they knew we didn't have a cat.
He was a bag of bones when we got him, although we quickly put about fifteen pounds on him. We lived in a walk-up and he had never seen stairs. We had to teach him about stairs and windows (he would bump into them). He was already housebroken because he was kept in a crate. He stayed in the crate in our apartment for maybe 4 days before we gave up and let him have the run of the place. About a week after we got him, we encouraged him to get on the couch and thus Gavin's greatest love was discovered--lying on one side of the couch. Sometime in those first weeks, we also discovered that he preferred to walk with a stuffed toy in his mouth. We went through a lot of stuffed animals. He wore a coat in the winter and even had to wear boots to protect his paws from the salt on the city streets.
He lived with us in our one-bedroom apartment for three years getting four walks a day. He didn't see his first yard until Evansville. When we moved here and Luke was born, we weren't sure how he would do with the baby, but he was always wonderfully gentle with the boys. He aged gracefully. His brindle coat turned almost completely white. As he got older, he still loved his walks and his dinner and our dinner and your dinner, but he stopped running probably about two years ago. Over the past few months he slowed down more and got pickier about what he would eat. He began declining rapidly a few weeks ago. I was hoping he would make it through June 7th, which we were told was his birthday, and he did. That means he was 12 years old, which is a good age for a big dog, especially one who didn't have good care in his youth. We will miss him terribly, but we know he is up there in doggie heaven lying on a couch and begging for treats.
Goodbye sweet Gavin dog, until we meet again.