Run like the wind

As I marveled at his majestic looking dog, I asked Ryan if Elliott had ever raced.

“Yea, and he won most of the time,” he proudly answered, showing me Elliott’s tattooed number inside his right ear. “This is his racing number. I looked up his statistics and he was fast. Over 40 miles an hour.”

“Wow. That's amazing. Can I see him run?” I asked and Ryan shook his head yes.

“Here, you hold him and I’ll go to the other end of the park,” he handed me Elliott's collar. 

It was hard to hold back 90 pounds of solid muscle. Right away, Elliott started to squirm and lunge toward Ryan pulling my arm practically out of its socket. So I put both my arms around his deep chest and felt his heart pounding as he tried to get away. I was surprised that his short coat was so soft and fine making it even more difficult to hold onto him.

He struggled in my arms, pulling me forward but I held on tight. When Ryan finally yelled to him from across the park, I let go and Elliott took off. I witnessed for the first time the greyhound’s double suspension gallop; all four of his feet were off the ground during each full stride. A hush came over the entire park as his powerful muscles strained against his skin. The small ears that stood straight up moments ago now folded over tight next to his head. Elliott’s complete attention was focused on his owner as he ran the entire distance of a football field in a matter of seconds.

To my surprise, Blondie took off after Elliott and actually managed to keep up with him for a few strides. Her legs were also in a perfect rhythm, reaching out as far as she could make them go. Her golden hair was blowing against her sleek body and her nose stuck out in front of her as far forwarded as she could make it go. But she was no match for the greyhound. When Elliott reached Ryan and skidded to a stop, the entire park broke out in applause.

Blondie only made it a fraction of the distance before she turned and came back to me. Her little game of chasing dogs and biting their tails didn't work with Elliott. He was far too fast for her antics. She stood by my side and watched the fastest dog we had ever seen run like the wind. 

Elliott the greyhound

Seemingly out of nowhere, a young man appeared, running towards me after his beautiful fawn colored greyhound. My heart stopped. He looked more like a Roman God than a human being with his perfectly chiseled nose, his short slicked back hair and muscular build. He wore converse tennis shoes and Calvin Klein Jeans with a simple white cotton shirt that made a striking contrast against his tanned olive skin. Did Goddess Diana send him to me?

Ryan had big brown doe eyes filled with wonder, wide shoulders like an Olympic swimmer and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart. He was only 19-years-old, significantly younger than me, and had recently moved to Los Angeles from Washington DC to start his acting career. He rescued his dog, Elliott, as soon as he had a home that allowed dogs because he had always wanted to save one of these canine athletes. That sentiment alone carried a huge amount of weight with me since so many people I knew in LA were only interested in owning pure breeds as a status symbol. Elliott the dog made his owner look good in my eyes with his slender head, wet brown nose and dark eyes that revealed a gentle, intelligent soul. 

The race track is home for these magnificent creatures since birth and they live a very regimented and sheltered existence while they are racing. Most retire after about two-years without any experience in the real world. So, although they are on the large side, Greyhounds make excellent apartment pets. They enjoy being with people and other pets and are a low maintenance dog by nature. They are not in constant motion, as one would think. They've paid their dues on the race track and are perfectly content to sleep the day away, as long as they get their daily walks. I had been an advocate for this breed, even though I had never owned one myself. Elliott looked like he had a smile on his face, just like his owner Ryan. It was impossible not to smile too.

Westies

I ran into an older couple delighted with their two West Highland Terrier puppies. The man's white hair matched his pack. He looked like a Westie, with dark brown, almost black, eyes. The couple seemed a little overwhelmed by their energetic, independent and self-confident dogs. 

“I love those puppies,” I said as both dogs wiggled their entire bodies and tried to climb my legs. When researching dogs before rescuing Blondie, I read that the Westie are very social and friendly but they need exercise. The Scottish breed dates back to James I of England who ordered a dozen white terriers as a gift to the Kingdom of France.

“Westies are great companions,” the man said. “They’re a bit feisty but in a very playful way,” the woman added. "This is their first time at the park," she added. "They just finished getting their shots."

I didn't stop for long, although I did take a moment to inhale their sweet puppy breath! I wasn't even half way around the park yet. There were about a dozen or so people and dogs left to meet and more were arriving every minute. I needed to keep going, stay with the plan to meet my man.

Frisbee

As I strolled the park with Blondie by my side, I noticed a group of six jocks playing Frisbee with their dogs. Maybe they were single. They looked about my age, clean cut and tanned. Their dogs, a regal looking German Shepherd, a Lassie looking Collie-mix, a giant Boxer, a feisty Jack Russell, and a handsome Golden Retriever were fighting over the Frisbee each time it was launched. The Jack mutt kept catching it, much to the displeasure of the rest of the pack. Once he got a hold of the Frisbee, he ran as fast as he could, playing keep away from the other canines and their humans.  

The men were obviously a clique, in their Adidas warm-up outfits so popular back then. As I moved closer to them, the Frisbee came soaring right to me. Was this a form of park flirting? I could play that game. So I caught the Frisbee and tried to impress them by throwing it back. I had not yet learned the gentle art of the Frisbee and hit one of the guys in the head. Needless to say, I kept going.

Where is HE?

I drove down that windy road with a new found determination in my heart. As I parked my car, I was overcome by a feeling of knowing HE was there, our paths would cross that very day. Just as I was putting Blondie’s leash on, a car pulled up beside me and a handsome man stepped out. Was this him? I smiled as he came around to the passenger side to get his dog out.

“Is that a doggie seat belt?” I asked the preppy looking 30 something.

“Yea, my wife found it and since Spot is our child, we have to keep him safe.” 

Well, I guess he’s not the one, he’s already married. I should have noticed the ring. Too bad because he was tall and lanky, just my type, wearing Levis  tennis shoes and a green and white striped Ralph Lauren polo shirt with the collar pulled up around his neck that matched his striking emerald eyes. He unbuckled his energetic lab from its seat belt and put its leash on. Immediately, the dog jumped out of the car and started pulling him towards the park entrance.

 “I didn't know they made doggie seat belts,” I said. “I’ll have to look into that. Thanks for the tip.” 

I walked on deciding the best course of action would be to make a circle around the perimeter of the park for a complete view of who was there. I immediately came upon three young starlettes with small toy dogs; a fluffy Pekingese, a Maltese with its hair up in a pink bow and a Chihuahua-mix wearing a pink sweater. The girls were wearing ripped tee shirts with their Valley Girl pink headbands and matching leg warmers. They were getting lots of attending from the boys at the park. But, I didn't let that defeat my purpose!

Goddess Diana

It was as if Goddess Diana, the one from Roman Mythology (who my best friend Berry Perkins reminded me of), shot a magic arrow down from the heavens at me that day as I drove to the dog park in Laurel Canyon. Diana, the goddess of single women, protector of all that is wild and free, the maiden huntress, she and her greyhounds would help me finally attract an appropriate man.

The greyhound is a creature of rare beauty with slender legs for speed and agility, and well-developed muscles for endurance, such a powerful yet elegant creature, sleek and gentle. In fact, Greyhounds are the fastest running of all dogs, with their long legs and lanky frames. Only the cheetah tops the Greyhound for speed in the animal world. I needed the speed, strength and endurance of these regal canines to help me in my quest to end my single status.

Integrity

Later that night I thought about Gary, his messy apartment and his choice to rob people. I didn't know what I would have done losing my parents at the tender age of 13. But, he kept stealing well into his 20s until he finally got caught. What drove him to live like that, I wondered?  

I realized that it wasn't for the money. It wasn’t about the jewels at all. It was about the rush, about beating the system. Gary was just a guy who needed to live life on the edge. I wanted to be with someone who was exciting, that was true, but I realized integrity was an important quality I needed in a man.There was no question; I had made the right decision in leaving his apartment.

I still wanted to find someone to spend my life with, though. So, the very next day, I headed back to the Laurel Canon Dog Park. I knew there were lots of single men at the park. Dog loving men. I needed to meet as many as possible. I figured being single was a numbers game. The more I met, the better my chances of making that special connection.