Aeromass

It was the spring of 2004. Josie had crossed the rainbow bridge so our resident hounds were Buddy and Cissie. Our adoption group was due to receive a load of dogs from Kate in Kansas.

Kate is a crafty one. Friend Joni and I have, many times, committed to receiving 4 dogs for placement through our group but then Kate calls and suddenly we have 9 on the way. Kate is really good at what she does – she’s a supreme advocate for greyhounds in need. She told us there was a boy she’d been trying to get off the farm for years but the breeder had only recently agreed to let him go. Kate was fostering him at her house. He was an 11-year-old boy who’d been a Grade A racer in Florida for 2 ½ years, retiring in 1997. The GH database shows he sired two litters in 1999 and now, finally, he was on the adoptable roles.

If Brent and I have a mutual weak spot, it’s old dogs, so there was never much question where Aero would end up. Kate seriously considered the risk of such a long bus ride for this old boy and I left it totally in her hands but, eventually, she decided the risk was worth getting Aero into a home of his own for the time he had left. And so it was that Aero came to Montana.

Aeromass was a beautiful boy, a lovely red fawn with a white chest and velvety fur. His coloring was akin to a vanilla sundae with caramel topping. He was large and, even in his aged state, it was clear he’d been a powerful dog. He moved like there were screws loose in all of his joints so that he rather shambled along, but as he shambled, he smiled.

Aero was delighted with life. Having lived in confinement, everything was new and wonderful to him. Here is a photo of his very first day in Montana. He was already king of all he surveyed.

We called him Rabber Dabber and Red Skelton for his silly sense of humor. There wasn’t a day in our lives together that he didn’t make us laugh. He loved stuffies and could often be found curled up with one. Even though his gait was shaky, he loved going for short walks and he especially delighted in meeting new people and new creatures.

One warm summer evening Brent and I were walking the pups around the block. We passed the house of a neighbor who had a new litter of “pocket dogs” – small, fuzzy, rabbit-like creatures. As we approached their house, all the new puppies came bouncing out to see us. Anyone who owns a sighthound knows this is a potential disaster. I pulled up on Aero’s lead as the onslaught arrived and surrounded him. They were under his belly, between his legs, and jumping for his nose with joy. Aero was delighted and it was immediately apparent we had nothing to worry about. He greeted each of the puppies with kid-in-a-candy store wonder, play bowing and grinning ear to ear.

We were only to have Aero for 16 months before his back end totally gave out on him. But even that was a process he took in stride. For several weeks, when the stairs had become too difficult for him, he'd stand at the bottom (the dog door was in the basement) and bark at us to come down and help him. We'd get behind him and "wheelbarrow" him up the stairs. Then on the trip down, we'd help him control his back end so it didn't pass the front in his decent.

He adapted, he smiled, he made the most of every moment, he made us laugh. In those few short months he gave us a lifetime of sweet memories. It was a privilege to love him.