August 2, 2011
Gracie died tonight. It was really unexpected. She seemed fine when I came home from work today. She was never energetic, never a tail wagger, never an excited jumper. But still, I was her owner, and I always knew if she was fine or not. And she was fine. Just old.
I went to do P90x at my neighbor's house, and about forty minutes into it, Jared showed up at the door and said, "I think Gracie just died."
She didn't want her dinner tonight. Then he tried to take her out and she couldn't stand up. She got to the end of the driveway, so Jared carried her back inside, layed her down on her pillow and she died.
She was almost twelve and I always loved having her around the house. She didn't do much, but she was a calming presence. I always let her on the furniture when I was around--don't tell Jared. And I never really called her Gracie--Grace, or beautiful, or pretty girl. I know, I know, totally crazy, but I always wanted a greyhound.
When we took the dogs to watch the Boston Marathon this year, everyone wanted to pet/talk about/take pictures of Gracie. Not a lot of attention on Coach. Gracie was more striking. She was a really pretty dog.
I'm glad she went on her own. Really glad for the nonchalant way that she made her exit. Kind of fitting for the laziest dog in the world.
Oh Gracie. I'm really glad I got to have her. Greyhounds are just different.