MAGIC

   Her name was not really Magic. Her name was Anna. We don’t know for sure what her registered name was, but it doesn’t really matter. She was bred for one thing- to run, and to win. There is no demand for a greyhound who loses.

 I guess that Magic won. When she left racing, at the old age of 5 years, she won again. Instead of going to her death at the hands of those she had served, she wound up a retired racer in an adoption program. She came to live with us, still bulging with muscle, not an ounce of fat on her lean frame. But she was ready for the life of a retired racer. She immediately took to sleeping on her own bed, or the couch if she could get away with it. She went on walks for awhile, but the active life didn’t really suit her anymore. She preferred to sleep, feet in the air in warm weather, under a blanket in the cold. She grew a little flabby in retirement, but never worried about her weight.  

Magic was always there to greet us at the door.

She tried to get into the spirit of the holidays.

 Civilian life puzzled Magic for awhile. She watched, fascinated, while her Corgi companions romped and played. Her tentative first attempts to join in were both heartwarming and sad. How could a dog get to the age of five and not have ever learned how to have fun? But Magic was undaunted, and soon learned all the doggie tricks. She learned to joys of stealing pineapple upside down cake from the counter. She learned the joys of raiding litter boxes, and the bitter disappointment of baby gates. She learned to bounce, and to sleep in the sun. She never quite learned how to ride gracefully in the car, but still loved to go.

 But age and racing injuries finally caught up with Magic. She struggled gamely to continue on, but she grew weaker. She struggled and won a battle with renal failure, but she never really regained her strength. As she weakened, her once powerful legs betrayed her. She grew ever more fearful of moving through her own home, and became reclusive. Her organs began to fail, and she suddenly seemed a caricature of the elegant and strong dog she had been. Finally, it was time to say goodbye to the gentle soul who had graced our lives for over seven years. 

 Our Corgis and cats continue on. But the spirit of our house is somehow changed. Our willowy, beautiful lady is gone. She ran a good race, and awaits us somewhere beyond the finish line.    (October 18, 2002)

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