The Pixie Story
On the day I graduated from high school, I picked up a pup from a classmate. She was my graduation present to me from me. I named her Pixie. She was just a mut, all white in color, may be a little taller than a whippet and hair like a German sheppard. My friend knew she had whippet and blue tick hound in her pedigree and I think she had at least a little German sheppard also. From a pup, she loved to run. It would only take her seconds to run around the outside of the house. She would like to get other dogs to chase her. It would be like watching a wide receiver going out for a pass, making all kinds of moves to get the opponent off track. She would turn on a dime at full speed, resulting in the other dog continuing in a straight path before realizing that Pixie had turned. I was working as a groom and exercise rider at Green Spring Valley Hunt Club and she would follow me around as I exercised from one to four individual or sets of horses. This proved to get her so fit that any dog she was able to get to chase her would not have a chance of matching her endurance as well as her speed. Granted she was probably not as fast as a pure bred whippet, but I am sure that she would have given them a 'run for their money'. And like most whippets, she did not like the water; she would jump any stream or puddle we would come to. She was truely my best friend. Where ever I went, she went; whether by foot, by horseback, or by car. As she was getting up in age and realizing that I could never find another 'Pixie', I wanted to get a dog as close to her as possible. One day I saw whippets advertised in the paper; not a breed that can be found in a newspaper's want ad section very often. Pixie was 15 and not looking very good at times, so I called about these whippet pups. My father drove and my mother went also to Barbara Henderson's. The pups were out of a bitch that a lady bred to one of Barbara's dogs. There was one that was all white (like Pixie) and it was a girl, too. She seemed so cute and loveable, so I bought her on the spot. As we drove home, I sat in the back seat with this little pup on my lap. As I looked down at her, it was as if I was looking at a very small Pixie. I knew then that I had made the right decision. I named her Miss Priss as she just looked like a Miss Priss. She wasn't an exact replica of my Pixie, but she came very close to it. She also lived up to her name, being very picky about the food she'd eat and keeping herself clean. It was like watching a cat when she would wash herself with her paws, just like Pixie had done.
This is the one and only Pixie