Cleo Died Saturday

Our beautiful, doe-like canine spitfire sweetheart died this Saturday of old age. We feel so fortunate to have had Cleo in our lives for most of her 11.5 years.

Ico Cleopatra (her official racing name) was really “Easy’s dog.” After our wonderful standard poodle Hershey died, Easy flipped out and we contacted the local greyhound group for another dog, stat! A racetrack champ forced to retire at the industry standard of age 5, Cleo was ready for a home right when we called. Our liaison met up with us on at a halfway point on the Thruway hours later and we met our girl. We quickly learned that neither Cleo, nor Easy for that matter, was your average grey.

Easy is basically perfect, a sweet, gentle guy, and we thought all greyhounds were like him. Suckers.

Cleo not only didn’t like cats, but she barked (unusual for greys), unprovoked, whenever she passed another animal on our walks. She also barked whenever Papa Salerno or Grandpa Chase would come visit. After Declan was born, she barked whenever he cried during his first couple of days home with us. But she was all bark, and no bite. With us, she was a real mush.

Her adventures with us include a harrowing escape from the kennel a few years ago while we were far away in Florida, patiently tolerating dozens and dozens of curious friendly and clumsy curious toddlers including two growing up with her, roaming chickens, miles of walks in the woods, and plenty of nuzzling.

Cleo was so gentle with us, and so bossy with Easy. She was just what he needed – a boss. She would growl or bark at him to switch beds with her, and she taught him how to bark. Whatever she wanted, she got, even if it meant needling him until he acquiesced. Easy was just what she needed, a manager. He made sure she ate, went outside to do her business, and he personally “cleared” any treats before she would even bother to look interested in them.

Cleo was such a mix of fire and sweetness, having her in my life helped me to tune into my own inner fire. I also consider her part of some divine preparation in my life before having Quinn, who shares a similar spirit.

What have I always appreciated most about Cleo? What will stay with me? The fact that she was always unequivocally and unapologetically *herself.* And that her true self was still lovable despite, and maybe even because of, that fierceness she was able to tap into so easily.

We love you, Cleo.

Meeting Cleo for the first time, seeing if the dogs would get along.

A final picture of Cleo, with a view of the fence we specifically built for her so the former race champ could run around freely in the yard. She rarely did, maybe a lap or two now and again.