Yep, that's me.
I stopped for a quick lunch one Saturday while running errands. A woman approached me in the parking lot. “I know that car!” she exclaimed with a familiar smile. For those who don’t know me, my car is very recognizable. “And I know you!” She didn’t look even the slightest familiar, but that doesn’t mean much. I’m terrible at face recognition. Embarrassingly bad, but that’s a post for another day… So I waited for her to continue. “You walk those 2 greyhounds all the time, though I haven’t seen you in a while.” She trailed off…
For 6.5 years, I was a fixture in this city. I walked my dogs twice a day, every day. People would stop me in the grocery store, the laundromat, and—really—just about anywhere. Especially if they hadn’t seen me in a while. “Are the dogs okay? I was worried!” Friends who live outside of Vermont thought it was a little creepy. Transplants like myself thought it was sweet. And it didn’t faze my “local” friends at all.
But here’s the thing: We moved to a small town, about 20 miles away, in 2003. Katie died in 2009 and Ellie in 2011. So, yeah, it’s been a while. And yet people still remember our lanky little trio… Clearly, we were more memorable than I realized!
Our pack has changed, and is more a “random assortment of Sighthounds” than retired racers alone. That said, I will apparently—and proudly—always be known as The Greyhound Lady. But you can still call me “Debbie.” I might respond…