Bebop, my Greyhound, is a big dog. 85lbs, and starting to slow down. Tall enough to sneak a bite of Easter ham off the counter from behind the island, and cute enough to get away with it. Greyhounds might look weird, yet their form strictly follows function. Track movement in an open field, chase it, and entertain the people watching. As a puppy, he never stopped. Yet, the moment came when I ...