I have never believed in love at first sight. Love takes time to build and grow, for it to mean anything. I still believe that — but if anything like “love at first sight” is true, the closest I’ve ever come to it was when I first saw Mitch’s face on the GALT website.

Before Mitch, there was Linus: a retired racer, the gentlest giant, my first greyhound, and my heart dog. Linus died very suddenly and unexpectedly in 2023, a few days shy of his 10th birthday, and likely of a brain tumor; it was less than 24 hours between the onset of symptoms and euthanasia. I was gutted, in shock. My heart was absolutely broken.

I’d often wondered how I would feel when Linus died, and assumed I would need a break from dog ownership, to grieve. To my surprise, after the initial shock had softened, I instead began obsessively scrolling through GALT’s adoptable dogs. So many of them were sweet, with heart-warming stories and quirky, lovable personalities. But none of them jumped out at me as potentially “my dog” until I saw Mitch’s bio. Oh, my heart, that face! — so open and joyous, as though he’d never known a day of sorrow. After his face, what caught my eye was the fact that Mitch’s birthday was the day before Linus’s. It seemed like some kind of sign.

At our meet-and-greet, the foster described him as the “lovable surfer dude of greyhounds”, and this is true: Mitch is bothered by nothing, and has never met a stranger. He raced in Ireland, and performed relatively well, but his true calling is channeling love to and from humans. He started healing the hole in my heart from the minute he came home with me, wanting nothing more than to constantly be close to me and to join me on my daily walks, and he made new friends at every turn. I work from home, so we get lots of time together, but I did wonder if he would’ve been happier in a large family, with more people to love him, since he instantly charmed every friend and neighbor who met him.

His growing list of fans included several other people who had recently experienced the loss of a loved one. Before adopting Mitch I trained as a death doula, and it was immediately clear that Mitch had the temperament to become a therapy dog. Everyone who met him noted his ability to detect when they needed extra love, and to give that famous greyhound lean-hug at exactly the right moment. I started doing some training with him. Mitch is the rare grey who sits, and by adding a little clicker training, he learned to sit on command. He passed his AKC “Canine Good Citizen” test with flying colors, and shortly thereafter we were certified as a therapy dog team through the Alliance of Therapy Dogs.

After getting into the ATD system, Mitch began joining me as a pet partner on monthly visits to a local hospice, where he brings joy and comfort to people who are dying, their families and friends, and hospice staff and volunteers. We’ve also begun making visits to the Adult Day Program at our local JCC, where he is doted on by adults in early stages of dementia and program staff.

Mitch himself is in heaven on these trips, given how much extra love and attention he gets when we’re out: he leans into the people we’re visiting, chitters, and smiles at me throughout our shifts. He loves the people we visit, they love him, and I no longer have to worry that he’s feeling like an isolated and deprived extrovert. Mitch helped me heal my grief, and now he’s helping bring comfort to others in our local community. It’s been a win-win all around, and I trust him to bring much more love in the years ahead.

We love you, Mitch-mo!I have never believed in love at first sight. Love takes time to build and grow, for it to mean anything. I still believe that — but if anything like “love at first sight” is true, the closest I’ve ever come to it was when I first saw Mitch’s face on the GALT website.

Before Mitch, there was Linus: a retired racer, the gentlest giant, my first greyhound, and my heart dog. Linus died very suddenly and unexpectedly in 2023, a few days shy of his 10th birthday, and likely of a brain tumor; it was less than 24 hours between the onset of symptoms and euthanasia. I was gutted, in shock. My heart was absolutely broken.

I’d often wondered how I would feel when Linus died, and assumed I would need a break from dog ownership, to grieve. To my surprise, after the initial shock had softened, I instead began obsessively scrolling through GALT’s adoptable dogs. So many of them were sweet, with heart-warming stories and quirky, lovable personalities. But none of them jumped out at me as potentially “my dog” until I saw Mitch’s bio. Oh, my heart, that face! — so open and joyous, as though he’d never known a day of sorrow. After his face, what caught my eye was the fact that Mitch’s birthday was the day before Linus’s. It seemed like some kind of sign.

At our meet-and-greet, the foster described him as the “lovable surfer dude of greyhounds”, and this is true: Mitch is bothered by nothing, and has never met a stranger. He raced in Ireland, and performed relatively well, but his true calling is channeling love to and from humans. He started healing the hole in my heart from the minute he came home with me, wanting nothing more than to constantly be close to me and to join me on my daily walks, and he made new friends at every turn. I work from home, so we get lots of time together, but I did wonder if he would’ve been happier in a large family, with more people to love him, since he instantly charmed every friend and neighbor who met him.

His growing list of fans included several other people who had recently experienced the loss of a loved one. Before adopting Mitch I trained as a death doula, and it was immediately clear that Mitch had the temperament to become a therapy dog. Everyone who met him noted his ability to detect when they needed extra love, and to give that famous greyhound lean-hug at exactly the right moment. I started doing some training with him. Mitch is the rare grey who sits, and by adding a little clicker training, he learned to sit on command. He passed his AKC “Canine Good Citizen” test with flying colors, and shortly thereafter we were certified as a therapy dog team through the Alliance of Therapy Dogs.

After getting into the ATD system, Mitch began joining me as a pet partner on monthly visits to a local hospice, where he brings joy and comfort to people who are dying, their families and friends, and hospice staff and volunteers. We’ve also begun making visits to the Adult Day Program at our local JCC, where he is doted on by adults in early stages of dementia and program staff.

Mitch himself is in heaven on these trips, given how much extra love and attention he gets when we’re out: he leans into the people we’re visiting, chitters, and smiles at me throughout our shifts. He loves the people we visit, they love him, and I no longer have to worry that he’s feeling like an isolated and deprived extrovert. Mitch helped me heal my grief, and now he’s helping bring comfort to others in our local community. It’s been a win-win all around, and I trust him to bring much more love in the years ahead.

We love you, Mitch-mo!