I said goodbye to Troy yesterday. He was 14 and his legs had finally given out. He went off to sleep with a stomach full of roast chicken and a happy sigh.
He started life as Gortkelly Rusty, an Irish racing greyhound. He even won a couple of races. Then someone shipped him to England (at which point, in 2003, he falls off the official records) and he turned up dumped on the streets in June 2005. It's a story common to many ex-racers.
He was taken in by the wonderful Tia Greyhound and Lurcher Rescue, and we had him for ten lucky years. He was a big, dignified, gentle dog who loved food and cuddles. He always assumed that everyone he met was his friend, and I am glad he had such a long and happy life, and such an easy death.
Being a pet owner hurts.