G is for Goofball
Elegant, graceful and completely ridiculous. The hound who looks like a statue is also the hound who just fell off the sofa in their sleep.
People see a sighthound and think elegant. Poised. A creature designed by someone who studied ballet and classical sculpture. And they're right, for about six seconds a day.
Then your hound walks confidently into a glass door, looks at it as if it moved and goes to lie down in the bath.
The elegance is a con
The first time your greyhound misjudges a corner and slides gently into a wall, or falls off the sofa while fast asleep, you'll realise the grace is a performance. A beautifully maintained illusion that collapses the moment nobody's looking.
Sighthounds combine the physique of a supermodel with the spatial awareness of someone who's been at a wedding since lunchtime. They'll gallop across a field like something from a nature documentary, then trip over their own lead in the car park. Graceful at full gallop. Baffled by a doormat.
Roaching: The signature move
If you haven't seen a sighthound roach, you haven't lived. Roaching is lying flat on their back with all four legs pointing at the ceiling. Usually on the sofa, sometimes on your side of the bed and occasionally in the middle of a field for no obvious reason. It looks like an upturned cockroach. Hence the name.
It means they're comfortable, content and have abandoned all dignity. Some roach for hours. Others catch your eye halfway through, as if to say, "Yes, I know what I look like. And?"
You'll photograph it every single time. Other people will not be nearly as impressed as you think they should be. We know this, and we'll still show you 47 of ours.
The drama department
Sighthounds aren't occasionally dramatic. They're consistently, theatrically, award-winningly dramatic. Drizzle is a personal insult. A bath is an outrage. A nail trim is the end of days. And a brushed paw can set off the greyhound scream of death, a noise that brings the neighbours to their windows and you to your knees in a panic.
They'll refuse to walk past a bin bag. They'll freeze at the sight of a balloon. They'll spend ten minutes working up the courage to step over a stick, then chase a squirrel flat out without a second thought. Their threat assessment system is, to put it kindly, a work in progress.
Sleeping like they've been dropped from a height
A sleeping sighthound is a thing of wonder. Head bent backwards. Legs in four directions. Tongue half out. One ear inside out. Draped over the arm of the sofa like a coat somebody dropped on the way in. They look broken. They're not. They're sighthounds.
The goofing comes in different flavours too:
- WhippetsThe bouncy end. They spring, burrow and vibrate with excitement at the slightest excuse.
- GreyhoundsLanguid silliness. A long, heartfelt sigh, followed by sliding slowly off the sofa.
- LurchersSplit the difference, depending on the day and whatever's in the mix.
Every hound has their own brand of daft. One of ours sleeps with his head wedged under a cushion. Another insists on lying in the exact spot you're about to step into. Neither will explain themselves.
It takes a while to come out
If your newly adopted hound seems serious, quiet or a bit flat, don't worry. The goofball side doesn't always arrive with the hound. Plenty of greyhounds from the racing industry have never lived in a house, and it can take weeks or months for them to relax enough to be daft.
The first roach is a milestone. The first time they fall off the sofa and pretend they meant to is another. The first time they bring you a shoe, drop it and walk off looking pleased with themselves? That's the moment you know they've moved in properly.
When the silliness finally shows up, it means they feel safe. That's worth every bit of the wait.
Why it matters
The goofball side isn't just entertaining, though it very much is. It's a big part of what makes sighthounds such good company. They don't take themselves seriously. They're not trying to impress you. They're just being themselves, loudly and weirdly, in their own home.
Not elegant, then. Something better. Completely, gloriously absurd. And we wouldn't have them any other way.
