Larry's Memorial  Far be it for me to anthropomorphize a dog, but...Larry did have a rather unique personality.
So this is simply a series of true stories that only another dog or cat people would enjoy. If you aren't a pet person - don't bother.
This was Larry. His nicknames were Sir Lawrence, Monkey Butt, Sweet Baboo, and "you little sh*t"
Racing Name: Curly Larry Moe
Born: April 1994
Retired: 1996
Adopted: December 20, 1997 by Annette Simmons
Died: February 2006
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One ear stuck up and one laid back. It gave him a "Robin Hood" look that I thought rather dashing.
Two ears up at the same time was a sure sign that someone has said either "walkies" or "eat" his two favorite words. We had to spell. He even learned "want." So to indicate to another person that I wanted to go for a walk went something like, " Do you w-a-n-t to go for a w-a-l-k?"
Larry endured his devil costume only because he discovered that trick-or-treating children loved him in it. Larry loved to be loved and is shameless about that fact.
He was equally shameless about loving to sleep.
When visiting my friend Pam in Atlanta, Larry was allowed on the couch. (not like at home) One evening Pam and I were on either side of the couch with our feet tucked under us. There was no greyhound-sized room left on the couch. Larry put a paw up, indicating his desire for us to move over and waited. We didn't move. He put another paw up. He is a very polite dog. We didn't move. Politeness wasn't working. Ever adaptable he went to the door and whined. Pam got up to let him out. He let her get to the door, went straight to the couch, took her place and curled up self-satisfied. Typical of Larry, he avoided eye contact for long enough to see if his ploy worked.
Larry is gone now and I pine for his company every day. There will never be another Larry. I wrote a little poem for him.
Larry the Greyhound
(April 24, 1994 – February 2, 2006)
There were so many of them,
hungry eyes, lolling tongues, long leggy bodies
I liked the huggers
Did you know greyhounds
on two legs
are tall enough to look you in the eye?
Track owners probably don’t encourage
that sort of thing.
I did.
I encourage
that sort of thing
in humans too.
One stood out.
He wasn’t a hugger.
(Huggers can be a little hungry for attention)
There was a TV crew.
“Why did you
choose this one?”
“He’s happy to be alive.
He will remind me how to be happy.”
That’s what I said into the microphone.
For ten years he reminded me.
Even (especially) New Year’s Eve when he ate all the salmon
off eight perfect plates.
Open doors?
He was in like a shot.
Someone might need him in there.
Little girls who met him that way,
ran up to him in the park
“Larry!”
“Sing Larry, Sing.”
“Harrroooooo!”
he sang.
They will miss his singing
I miss his happy heart.
Harroooo, Larry, harroooo.
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