Edgewater Greyts

March 5, 1993 - April 24, 2006



No one wanted her. She had been in a foster home for months. She was sweet, cat safe, and good on a leash but very shy, and I didn’t want her either. I wanted a big, well-adjusted brindle male but went to see her anyway with the idea that the more greyhounds I met, the better I'd be able to tell who was meant for me. She was beautiful but took twenty-five minutes to come out of her crate to see me. As I sat patiently on the floor, she sniffed me from behind and wouldn’t make eye contact, let alone let me touch her. Then her foster mom Ann got her leash. We had a nice walk, and when we returned to the house I had the good fortune to—or she made the fateful mistake of letting me—look into her amber eyes. The gentleness was unmistakable, as was the twinkle, which is what really hooked me. It told me that inside that quivering mass of greyhound goo lurked a sweet, intelligent, majestic creature with a goofy streak, just waiting to realize her potential as a dog and as a companion.

It is impossible to know whether Easton realized that she chose me. I don’t think either of us knew what we were getting into. She left a quiet subdivision to come to Bucktown and downtown Chicago, with expressways, church bells, and dump trucks all around to terrorize her. But, after more than eight wonderful years, no one would recognize the timid creature that first entered my home, that constantly retreated to her crate for security rather than be petted, that paced incessantly for months with a dripping nose.

It is also hard to know what helped her turn the corner. Maybe it was obedience, flyball, and agility classes; maybe it was the Halloweens with my friends' children when she was a pumpkin, hula girl, or fairy princess; maybe it was the meet and greets where she coyly encountered visitors; maybe it was Slim and then Turtledove; or maybe it was just the love with which I showered her, convinced she could and would reciprocate. Some days she was still a shy dog, but with my encouragement, she confronted her fears and far exceeded any expectations. In turn, she has brought me knowledge, friendship, a commitment to greyhound rescue, and more. She has even been my muse. Easton was my heart dog. She will continue to be forever.

In loving remembrance from Barbara, Slim and Turtledove too.

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Easton's genealogy

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