In 1999, Christine Johnson asked her husband, Chris Procopis, if they
could adopt a dog, but he was deathly afraid of them, having been
bitten three times as a paperboy during his teens. Chris thought he had
his wife stymied when he agreed, saying, "OK, sure—but only if the dog
doesn't bark, shed, drool or smell."
But Christine did her research and discovered greyhounds. Not only is
this breed tidy and quiet, but, as she quickly learned, kennels were
teeming with the retired racing dogs—and they were in need of homes. "In
the late 1990s, around 40,000 dogs were being put to sleep each year
when they were injured or too old to race," she says. Working with a
rescue group in Glastonbury, CT, she met a 90-pound dog named Parris who
had been returned by a family because he was skittish and uncomfortable
around children. "We didn't have kids and I just wanted him to be
ours," says Christine, who took Parris home that day—after just a quick
call to her husband.
At first, Chris was stunned. "I agreed to a dog, not a horse!" he
says with a laugh. "It was like someone had left a pony in the living
room of our tiny condo." He also feared that a dog so fast it can zip
through an electric fence without feeling a shock would be high-strung
and require constant exercise. Instead, he says, "I was pleasantly
surprised to find out that they're more like giant cats who like to curl
up on the couch and hang out."
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