It is with great sadness that I report the passing of one of the world's great dogs. About three weeks ago, Genesis was diagnosed with bone cancer in her leg. It progressed pretty quickly and soon she got to the point where she was in constant pain. I took her to the vet yesterday and held her head while she fell asleep for the last time. She passed away very quietly and I have every reason in the world to believe that she's much happier now than she was hobbling around. She was 12 years old.

We miss her. We miss her a lot. She was a funny dog, very quiet and extremely gentle. Where some dogs perfect the "poor me" begging face to coerce a sucker into giving a treat, Gennie had instead a "give me a break" face. She often made it very clear to us that she was only tolerating our behavior because she didn't have the opposable thumbs required to get dog food out of the bin.

Rescuing a racing greyhound is a bizarre experience. We had to teach Gennie that affection is a good thing, but once she figured out that a scratch behind the ears felt good, she couldn't get enough and would walk up and LEEEAAAANNN against my knees until I stopped what I was doing to rub her all over.

With our busy lives and cramped space, Gennie never got everything she deserved. But I try to squelch that guilt by remembering the one thing we did give her: we taught her to play. Racing dogs never learn how to play as puppies since they are trained to do only one thing: run. So for years we tossed balls, squeaked toys, dangled pull ropes, anything we could think of until one day, when Gennie was almost 7, she got it. She learned playfulness. She would toss her own squeaky toys in the air then pounce on them. She played chase with us in the yard. It was an amazing sight. You can indeed teach and old dog new tricks.

Anyway, thanks for indulging me. We're sad around here but at the same time glad that she's got plenty of room to chase rabbits and toss squeaky toys now, and four healthy legs with which to do those things.