Pearl • A perfect gem

Her name was Pearl…actually it was Rosie (Nan de Rosie), but I changed it. Pearl let me know in no uncertain terms that she was not happy about the name change, even though I thought ‘Pearl’ perfectly suited her silver-gray brindle coat, and the fact that she was a perfect gem. Regardless, in her lifetime we compromised on Rosie-Pearl.

Pearl came home with me when she was almost nine years old, and left this world seven weeks short of her fourteenth birthday. She was able to die peacefully at home after a too short five years of retirement. I have to say that Pearl was the perfect dog…the essence of the regal, dignified greyhound image. She had huge, soft and soulful brown eyes and stilt-like legs that didn’t quit. She was sweet, gentle and all innocence in her demeanor.

Her perfection wasn’t evident as a ‘youthful’ nine year old. That first six months after adoption she could hardly contain her enthusiasm for chasing things. She would jump straight up onto retaining walls in pursuit of cats. Unfortunately for her, she would land on the top of the wall with her front and back foot FROM THE SAME SIDE atop the wall! Splat onto the sidewalk! I’m surprised she didn’t break legs and ribs in those first few formative months. Once, going after a squirrel while on leash, she managed to jump  six feet off the ground into the fork of a tree! Not to mention the time, very soon after arriving home with me, she accidentally snapped open the clip of her leash and went running down the sidewalk into the darkness of the night. Lost! (I thought). But no, as I made my way home to get the car and go searching for her I found that she had circled around and found her way back to her new home all by herself. She was standing on the porch barking at the front door to be let in.

All her wild ways eventually became tempered with time and she became the proud, serene lady of her platinum years. The sparkle was replaced with a very special glow. Rosie, Pearl, Rosie-Pearl still shines.