B.R. RCh. Ringdove Cassiopeia, SRCh, ORC
(1992 - 2008)

Cassie walked into our lives in mid 1992 and somehow, our lives would never be quite the same.

She was just 8 weeks old when we picked her up at a race meet - a tiny irascible beauty who promptly put all 4 feet on the ground and claimed her independence.....and that is just how things were going to be.

Named after the Ethiopian Queen, she took her title seriously and was sure to tell us that she was a). not a dog and b). would not be treated like any of the dogs in our house. Serious stuff for one so small.

Instead, Cassie, from the get-go, was like one of those elegant art deco dogs - haughty, chiseled, aloof-like and dramatic. She could choose any persona she liked depending on her mood and how she felt about a situation. Turning her head towards the wall when a visitor came to call would signal that she was offended by this visitor and we should make said visitor go away. If it was someone she enjoyed, she was instead this silly little twit who suddenly forgot herself. If she was inadvertently slighted by one of our friends, say, someone named "Kim" for instance, that person would forever be shunned by her and no amount of simpering, bowing or scraping would get that person back into her good graces.

She loved racing more than anything and took it to the highest level for one so small. She took spills and knocks from the big dogs and would get right back up, finish the race then take down the offender/ s with a telling off that would make a dock worker blush. She hated losing and knew when she was in front and more importantly, whom was in front of her. Many felt her tiny wrath.

When her feet could no longer hold up to the rigors of racing, Cassie was retired. Never by choice though....never by choice. In her new life she found a hobby that somehow appealed to her darker side and that was mousing.

Better than any terrier or cat, Cassie found fame around our street for her mousing and ratting ability that was so fast and so deadly, the body count mounted even though you barely saw her killing shake.

Many called her beautiful and who would I be to argue with a description that only barely defined her. Like a finely crafted piece of art, she screamed whippet. Finely set ears, huge dark eyes, shiny slick coat, tiny waist, deep chest and finely drawn tail, she oozed refinement and type. A racing weight of 27-28 lbs and 19" tall, our glossy queen gave us 16 years of whippet perfection.

She also gave us the gift of her children, grandchildren and great grandchilden and yes, she passed on her haughty coolness, her stiff pride, her beauty, her intelligence, and yes, lots of them with friendly outgoing happy personalities that would offend her royal nature. Her favorite pups and grand-pups were the ones who either looked or acted like her. She was very choosy about which pups she lavished her pride and perfection on and the rest were ignored.

In her teen years, the tiny queen still reined over her ever diminishing domain. "The chair" became her throne and she held this small piece of real estate with glinty stiffness with sparks that would shoot from her pointed gaze should anyone think of pushing her off.....no one better dare try and take it from her. Even in old age, she was beautiful and regal and age did not diminish her mind nor her body. She came into this world with wisdom way beyond her years and would leave this world with dignity and pride way beyond that of a simple canine.