This is a small tribute to a big-hearted dog, Fire N Flame. Fire was a greyhound, bred to race. He was one of the lucky ones in many ways, but his life was full of ups and downs.

Born May 4, 1979, Fire was a son of a good racing mother and a Hall of Fame father.

Fire's original home was exceptional for a racing dog. His breeder/owner kept his very few dogs in his spacious home with fenced yard. The dogs were a part of the family, and he placed them with a sympathetic trainer. A photo of Fire as a puppy shows him comfortably reclining on the couch.

Fire himself was exceptional. Although not a top racer, he was able to  finish in the money over half the time, including winning "A" races. This earned him the fairly rare opportunity to race until his mandatory retirement  age.

Wishing for his dogs to retire into pet-loving homes, the owner sought a new home for Fire. This was before many, if not all, the fine adoption organizations had been founded. One of the owner's contacts in the racing industry knew of a woman, also involved in the business, whose stepdaughter wanted a retired racer.

This would, under normal circumstances, be a happy ending for such a wonderful dog, but this was not the case for Fire.

The stepmom, having come into the family well into the step-daughter's 30's, did not know the prospective owner very well. She did not know that  the would-be owner was a compulsive "collector" of things, not animals, that she would be an unloving and uncaring owner who saw the dog as more of a possession than the breeder had.

She did not know that, once Fire had gone to live with this person, he would not see the inside of a house for years. Nor did she anticipate that Fire would be chained to a barn or locked in a horse trailer much of the time.  She did not know that Fire would be hungry much of the time, losing teeth from malnutrition, that his ears would have ragged edges from the fly bites,  that his only purpose for being there was for the new owner to make some bizarre point by cross-registering him with the AKC and taking him to matches and shows. She did not know that the prime motivation this woman had for buying dog food was whether or not it contained a "premium."

Fire was placed in this new setting straight from the track.

The first time Fire was taken to a match, we met him, for we were there showing our new AKC greyhound puppy. The two dogs, silver brindle and red brindle, became friends. We saw him at other matches and a couple of shows, keeping in touch with the owner between times. We did not know then about Fire's home life.

Once, Fire even took a match Group 1st at the same match where our Flash did the same among puppies. He was a beautiful dog, inside and out.

As we got to know the owner better, we realized that she was a fairly  unbalanced individual, although it was slow in unfolding just how far out of  balance she is. There are other creatures who suffered along with Fire, and most of them have been removed from her influence.

The year Fire turned 8, we moved to our farm. Since we had also acquired some horses from his owner (at the direction of her husband, who told her to get rid of them, or he'd haul them to the packer), she delivered them to us.  At the same time, she produced Fire from his travel-kennel on the back of  her pickup, and said, "Here." He was not the hale and hearty dog we had known previously. We could count his ribs, his ear-tips were bleeding, and  there were two gall-like sores on his hips (we never did figure out how those formed). We don't think he would have lived another week without us.  She also handed us what she referred to as "his food": a butter-cookie tin with a few stale cookies inside.

This began a new phase of Fire's life, one that we hope was as wonderful for him as it was for us. Back in the house, he learned, for the first time, how to play with a person or other dog. He learned how much fun "fetch" can be, even rounding up all his favorite fetch-balls every night into his comfy corner.

He learned about good dog food, treats, and the marvel of people food (on occasion), like ice cream.

He loved riding in the car with us, sitting on the couch with the other dogs (and any person who could squeeze in). Eventually, he even learned it was o.k. to get on the bed!

With us, Fire learned that barking was acceptable (barking was something he had done only a handful of times at his previous home), that he didn't have to hide any food he didn't want till later, and how to cool off in the wading pool we set up just for that purpose.

Fire was anything but an agressive dog. He would retire to his corner to  hide if we scolded any of the other dogs (Fire never did anything worthy of  a scolding!), or if the other dogs barked at each other for any reason (typical  family). He wasn't completely comfortable with any dog 100% of the time  until Bitsy arrived. Bitsy was a retired Seeing Eye beauty, a yellow Lab who, at age 12, had developed cancer that had been held at bay by surgery.  Fire and Bitsy became inseparable. When she took her last breath in my arms, 8 months later, Fire was depressed. He would wake up at 4 and cry until one of us sat with him.

Ginger, our only other female (a Walker hound), had never held such strong  attraction for Fire, but he began to accept her more closely during this time.  Eventually, one of his greatest pleasures was to be taken for a walk with Ginger, just the two of them and a person.

Fire lived in this atmosphere of love and friendship until April 19, 1994.  Over the winter, he had begun to have more problems with his old arthritis.  He was not hearing well, and he would sleep very deeply much of the time.  Late in the winter, the arthritis masked a condition that worsened until he could not stand up without help, although he did not appear to be in pain.  When he began to eat less, it was apparent that we were losing him. Finally, the day came when pain was clearly present, when comfort was not possible, and when we knew we had to help him by letting him go. The pain we have experienced through losing him is a small price to pay for the joy he gave us while he lived.

Fire was the most loving, innocent creature we have ever known. We will miss him as long as we have the ability to remember. Because we knew  him, we know we must give the same home to others of his kind. In the best  tribute I know how to offer, I hope anyone who reads this will realize how difficult it is for even the best dog to find a good home, and that you will consider providing a loving home for a dog, somewhere, like Fire.