The geriatric greyhound

Flynn has been with us for eight years. A rescue greyhound from Dogs Trust, he wasn't the dog we wanted.

We had our hearts set on a much smaller whippet, but when we arrived at Dogs Trust Salisbury there were no whippets. We walked past the perspex windows, looking in at the dogs needing rehoming; the first space housed a particularly stocky dog surrounded by the remnants of what one could only assume was a duvet in a previous life. The next space we were greeted by a duo of small dogs who had clearly 'found their voices'. In the third space led Flynn, a 5 year old black greyhound, gangly legged and fast asleep with a face that read as do not disturb. I remember hard relating to this dogs mood.

We decided to take him for a walk round the grounds. He didn't pull the lead, he just plodded along at whatever pace we set. We umm-ed and ahh-ed, we didn't anticipate such a large dog, we also weren't sure about his age, at five years old it made him likely to pass away during our children's GCSE exam year. It seemed ludicrous trying to calculate the timing of the end of life of dog that was so young and yet it was a very real, very practical consideration.

It was too late, we had already fallen in love, he was part of our family.

An ex-racing greyhound, he's always had to walk on lead. his chase instinct to kill any small that runs fast was inbred and trained in. During his first few years he maimed a few hedgehogs and killed a cat that wandered into our garden. But generally he was a placid dog, spending all day on 'his sofa', enjoying a short walk and the occasional zoomie round the garden, running in circles at speed for 60 seconds, before lying out in the sunshine and falling sound asleep again. He's never barked. Ever.

The past few years though he's slowed down. He's grown a lot more grey hair (relatable) and he's had nearly all his teeth removed due to dental issues. This means his tongue often rolls out of his mouth.

He's 14 this year. He can no longer manage walks round the block, just halfway up the lane and back. He often topples over when he poops and his back legs intermittently give way. It takes him longer to get up from his bed (again, relatable). He's developed bed sores from lying down so much of the time, in turn his beds have become much deeper and higher, half-dog bed-half-sofa. Relegated at night to the conservatory, stair-gated, as he can no longer manage more than a few hours without needing to toilet. Mornings now start cleaning up his messes.

He seems happy enough but it's really hard to tell with this greyhound. He's too stoic to let you know if he's in pain, and he's so slow and shaky. His coat is starting to look scraggy, he's losing weight, much more bag of bones that usual. Yet he's healthy enough – no medication needed, he's just pottering on.

But we're all sensing that may not last much longer, and it's very sad.