At the far end of the field I glimpsed a spot of movement. In the same instant I noticed a faint rhythmic beat, like distant drumming. The spot moved closer, my eyes adjusted, and a pack of greyhounds materialized, jetting around the inside perimeter of the fence. The drumbeat deepened to thunder. A few seconds later they streaked past me, thigh muscles bunched, hind paws stretching toward shoulders, mud flying in their wake, individual dogs blurring into a mass of muscle that flowed like mercury.
Thrilled, I watched them rocket away, racing for the sheer exhilaration of it. "Just like children," I thought. "Kids set loose on the first spring day after a long winter." I could almost detect the laughter.
I remember the first time I stood outside the kennel fence when they greys were let out to play. I actually cried. They were all so happy, with their tails wagging and tongues lolling. And the ran right up to the fence to greet me, not a care in the world. I was in love.
She alone knew her reasons. She had analyzed the variables, drawn her own conclusions, and decided to cross the room and quietly place her head in my lap. But in that quiet, a message reverberated: Hello. I am Comet. I choose you.
That's exactly how I felt when Vortex walked up to me in the fenced in front yard at the kennel and leaned on my knees. The others I played with were just having fun, but when that bog brindle looked at me, I knew he'd already decided I was his. And he was. He came home with us a few days later.