He gets to load 10 dogs into his 1977 Bronco every Saturday morning for a group burrito run and watch them all catch the wind in the wisps of hair they have left, their noses perking up at the tasty smells. He gets to be loved by dogs like Raylene, who nudges her giant head under his hand while pressing her 100-plus pounds into his legs, desperate for attention after spending the better part of her life in a cage. He gets to spoil countless little dogs, who blend into fluffy rugs and nestle in beds disguised as décor, beds built into kitchen nooks, beds in every corner.
He gets to watch true love blossom between species and between dogs like Fernando, a tiny Yorkshire terrier in a diaper, and Hedwig, an even tinier Chihuahua who has fully captured every last drop of her lover’s aﬀection. And while this life comes with loss, often too soon, Greig states surely that it’s well worth the pain. “It’s just heartbreaking, but there’s no way I would cheat myself out of that experience,” he says. “You know, even if it was just two years, why, why would you cheat yourself out of more love?”