Good Bye to our dear sweet Lily

“His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.” – Elizabeth Barrett Browning, her Cocker Spaniel, “Flush”  

We lost our good friend, Lily, yesterday. She wasn’t ready to leave us, but her time had come, and now we are so sad. Lily was a Greyhound, a retired racer who lived the first two years of her life as Octavo. Tall and strong for a female, Octavo was the pick of her litter and had great potential but her race record was all over the map. Sometimes she’d easily power her way into first place, other times she’d barely take third; occasionally she wasn’t in the top five at all.

On what turned out to be her final day of racing, Octavo refused to run. She just stood there, willfully not doing the one thing she was supposed to do – this, it turned out, is what gained her a new life and brought her into ours.

My son and his wife adopted Octavo shortly after she was rescued and quickly changed her name to Lily, which fit her personality much better. Our Lily was a gentle dog with a loving personality, big deep brown eyes and a ready “smile” on her pretty, long-nosed face.

I call her “our” Lily because Mr. Clark and I got to share the pleasure of her company nearly every week. Lily’s parents are teachers who work long hours and have a small yard without a fence. This meant Lily got to spend much of their work week with us, running around our big yard and playing with our dogs, returning to her other life for long walks, dog parks and trips to dog-friendly restaurants on weekends.

Lily came to us seven years ago and during this time, she never, ever did anything wrong. I can’t think of many dogs one can say that about – certainly not the ill-behaved rescues I seem to collect. But as we were reflecting on Lily’s life, we all agreed – she had never done one thing wrong. All she ever did was bring love, light and laughter to those who were lucky enough to know her.   

Greyhounds are a social breed, intelligent and loyal. They are sensitive to what’s going on around them and they enjoy company – dogs, cats, kids, adults, even stuffed toys. Lily loved hanging out with her “Winder Pack” which included three cats; she was always gentle when kids stopped us to pet her and tell her how pretty she was; and in her later years, she most often slept with a stuffed toy nearby.   

When we first met Lily she didn’t run – not at all. But, as she settled in and began to play with the other dogs, she started to remember that running could be fun; then, a bit later, she discovered the sheer joy of her amazing speed again. A racer can reach over 40-miles-per-hour within six strides and in her day, on a good day, Lily was probably almost that fast.

 
It was such a treat to watch her circling our big back yard like a race horse - long neck stretched straight, strong legs pulsing, and what a powerful stride! But, the best was seeing the look of joy on her face. It’s as if once our Lily didn’t have to run anymore, she was free to rediscover that she was, indeed, born to run and run she did, almost every evening.

Lily - like some, but not all dogs - gave more than she took. She was a joyful soul who enthusiastically savored life. She was also goofy and playful and had a mischievous side. Even though her manners were impeccable, she would, at times, stick her long nose up on the counter as if to say, “What’s cooking?” She loved to lick out of nice ice-filled human glasses when no one was looking. And sometimes she’d act like she’d seen something that wasn’t probably there, just to get the other dogs riled up.

A graceful and animated lady, Lily loved to wrestle and toss toys in the air and her downward facing dog (the yoga pose internationally recognized in the canine world as, “Let’s play!”) was frequent and flamboyant.   

As friends go, Lily was low-maintenance, but she did have her opinions and she was comfortable expressing them loud and clear. When Lily thought it was time for the day to begin, she would jump on the bed, put her big horse face near mine and bark excitedly, as if to say, “Wake up! It’s time for breakfast! It’s going to be a great day!”   

If I worked longer than Lily wished in the evening, she would start pacing around my computer desk, howl-howling a bit, to let me know it was time to go play. If I didn’t respond quickly enough, she would use her long nose to knock the computer mouse right out of my hand, repeatedly if necessary, until she got her way and took me outside to make sure I had fun until it was time for her dinner.    

Greyhounds are sight hounds and our Lily was more than great at spotting things. A deer, a cat, a bird, a raccoon, or maybe just a squirrel…Lily’s ears would perk up, her neck would crane, her black nose would start twitching, then standing completely still, she would focus intently. This was followed by a bark, bark, bark! to let her human and dog pack know, “There’s something interesting over there!”

No matter what Lily was doing, she wanted to share – share the excitement, share the joy, share the treat, share the toy, share the sweet smell of the air – just share. She had an energetic, happy-go-lucky personality and her spirit was huge and joy-filled. Even though she was a dog – or maybe because she was such a good dog - Lily lived large and laughed a lot.

“A sweet soul is gone; there is a part of us missing now,” my daughter-in-law said, as we gathered around Lily’s grave in our back yard.   

"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave and impossible to forget," a man named G. Randolf said.  

 

They both are right. Lily loved us; she loved life; and, she loved to run. She gave more than she ever took. She was a joy to all who knew her.  Rest in peace, dear girl! We will miss you so much!