When Propane walked into the house of his newly adoptive family, the first thing noticed was the smell. The faint but distinct scent alerted him that there was another greyhound somewhere in the house. His tail wagged with delight as he searched each room, hopeful to discover a new friend. Resting on the mantle above the fireplace sat the urns of Manny and Spuds, who stood in silent observance of their brother. After touring his new home, Propane curled into a ball, not far from the cremated remains. Although he was disappointed that no other animals were found, he basked in the warmth of the sun reflecting through a nearby window and thought about the camaraderie enjoyed whenever he crossed paths with others like himself.

After retiring from a long racing career, Propane relocated eleven hundred miles north to a foster family where he hoped to live out the rest of his days. He met a few greyhounds here and there but none stuck around for very long. As the dominant male, Propane prodded the new arrivals with the hope they would join him in a group therapy session.

“Who better to understand our plight than another greyhound,” he advised but none took advantage of the olive branch extended.

For a greyhound, the transition into retirement is often difficult. It’s filled with restless sleep plagued by nightmares about their working life. With legs that twitch, as if running in their sleep, and the occasional distressed yelp, many sleep with their eyes open. It allows them to keep a watchful view on the world that surrounds them. The haunted memories fade over time, especially once they are adopted or connect with a lifelong friend.

Six weeks prior to his adoption being finalized, Propane spent a week lounging around a dog sitter’s home. It was the best Christmas vacation he’d spent to date, in part, because the only breed the sitter watched was greyhounds. He became fast friends with Dakota Smoke, an all black greyhound who was one year younger. The two talked about life on the track; the highs and lows and everything in between. When the week was over and each returned to their respective foster homes, they hoped to keep in touch with one another, despite how unlikely the possibility seemed.

After being adopted, Propane settled into the routine of his forever home. Everyday was a new adventure. His new daddy worked from home which allowed the pair to spend a lot of time together. They walked through the woods, visited the dog park, and went on frequent rides around town.

“It’s not the same as bonding with a greyhound,” Propane thought, “but it’s a lot better than life on the track.”

A month later, while resting in the family room, Propane heard a noise from another part of the house. It sounded like the soft steps of another dog. His nose twitched as it picked up a familiar scent. He walked over to the dog gate, which restricted access to the rest of the house, and pressed his snout against the vertical wooden slats. A few minutes later, daddy appeared. Standing next to him was another greyhound.

“Propane, this is Charcoal,” explained daddy. “He’s your new brother.”

“Dakota? Is that you?” Propane asked.

“Yep!” Charcoal replied. “When daddy told me he had another grey named Propane and was gonna change my name because if it, I hoped he was talking about you.”

A few minutes later, the gate opened. They sniffed one another and licked each others ears before Propane provided his new baby brother with a guided tour of the home.

In the decade that passed since their reunion, the brothers became best friends. The only argument between them was when Charcoal absentmindedly stepped on his brother while he was sleeping. Propane retained his dominant role in the pack with his baby brother always a few steps behind. Although most greyhounds prefer to have their own space, the pair often sleeps in the same bed or lay within paw’s reach of one another. It’s rare for either to sleep with his eyes open.

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