Pixie died today. She was not my dog, but I loved her as if she was my dog. She belonged to my friend, Chris, but in a way she belonged to everyone who met her. She had a spirit so happy and huge that it was impossible to meet Pixie and not feel lighter and brighter for it. Pixie exuded joy. She was “Princess of Meet and Greets”, introducing hundreds of people to the magic of retired racing greyhounds. Chris knew Pixie was a very special dog, a greyhound ambassador supreme, and she so generously shared her with others.
I’ll never forget the first time I met Pixie. Chris had enrolled her in a dog training class and Pixie pranced her way in with her long slender tail helicopter-wagging behind – a sign of a truly happy dog. We taught her to bow and she would stretch her long steely blue body out as if she was born to be a ballerina. Her little sister dressed her in pink, and Pixie sported beautiful collars and accessories, right down to the gorgeous handmade tag that adorned her collar. Pixie was truly beautiful in shape and soul.
When I received Chris’ message, I cried – for Chris, and Pixie, and every dog I’ve lost and every person who has felt the pain that Chris felt today when she let Pixie go. The solace is knowing that greyhound heaven is a little brighter for my beloved Zorro now that Pixie has arrived.
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