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Mandi |
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The Big Golden Angel, Mandi to her friends, and Crafty Maid in the Irish Studbooks. She was my first love, and I have many beautiful videos of her. In fact, more videos than photos. |
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She was born in 1988 and came to live with me in late 1994. I waited for her to be mine every day, never giving up hope, yet never daring to believe it could actually happen. Her owner was a good and caring man. I spoke with him on the phone one time to ask why she had anxieties about riding in a car. He told me an incredible story about the scar she had on her shoulder. |
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Mandi was racing Grade A at Coeur d'Alene. His partner decided to take her to a stakes race in Portland, in his POV. As they were approaching the Oregon border, there was a terrible car wreck. She was thrown from the vehicle and cut on the shoulder by glass. The partner was unconscious. Bystanders reported she would not come to them, but she would not leave the injured man. Then the ambulances and police came with their screaming sirens and she finally ran. |
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Three days later, her owner located her at a vet clinic, several miles away. They did not know who turned her in there, but they sewed her up and her owner came to take her home.
They tried putting her back on the track one time, but she had lost her heart and will to run. He took her off permanently as his wish was to pass on her excellent bloodlines. This was not to be, as she did not take after three separate attempts.
There was no guessing about what would happen to her. I do not keep my love for anyone a secret, especially Greyhound love. Both her owner and the lady she was boarding with, knew I wanted her and had wanted her since the very second she and I laid eyes upon one another. She was seven years old now, and that did not matter a wit to me. |
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The Big Golden Angel was angelic from the beginning. She was one of those happy girls, who was content with anything you would give her and gladly gave her whole heart in return. Even at her age and her large size, she could do a breath-taking flying finish in less than three months. She had the hugest brown eyes, surrounded by "mascara," and when I was heeling with her, the whole world would disappear as I was soaked into those eyes that looked up at me with such happiness and trust. Off leash heeling with her was like dancing with the wind. I became a light spirit, floating by her side. |
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One week before the Dancing Greyhound Drill Team was about to make its debut performance, before the Greyhound Pets of America (GPA) National Convention, in Birmingham, Alabama, she went down. Abdominal adenocarcinoma.Metastasized. I held her in my arms as the fluid went into her vein that would end her suffering and pain. She went so peacefully, yet she ripped large holes throughout my being as her spirit winged its way upward. She was almost ten years old. I would not trade a second of the few years I had with her. One does not count love in minutes, seconds or years. One counts love with the heart. |
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