THE WHIPPET: sporting elegance

He is often mistaken for an Italian greyhound, but although roughly the same size, he is, in fact, bred down from a greyhound by using terriers, but this does not prevent him being sometimes mistakenly called the Italian. He is par excellence the miner’s dog, especially in Lancashire, Staffordshire and Durham. Miners seem to have a predilection for dogs of excessive refinement: witness the Yorkshire terrier. It must give them some queer twist of pleasure to handle something so utterly contrasted with their usual occupation of heaving huge heavy dirty lumps of coal about.

Not that the whippet is a luxury pet like the Yorkshire terrier. He does not have a topknot tied up with a bow of ribbon, like a dog on the lid of a presentation chocolate box. He has no topknot, for he is sleek all over, nor does he lie in silken dalliance on a cushion, for he is above all things a sportsman – the central figure in that rough world of betting and sweepstakes, racing in ‘lanes’ on grass or cinder tracks, rabbit coursing, competition and rivalry. His racing speed is renowned, though unlike Dr Roger Bannister and Mr Christopher Chataway, he does not aspire to the mile, but contents himself with short bursts conformable with his delicate nervous build and the sensibility of his disposition.

He is of an elegance that suggests an objet d’art rather than a high-mettled sporting creature. He should be carved in ivory. Stroke him, and you are almost surprised to feel a living warmth under the skin that covers those tiny bones. His legs in their frailty would arouse the envy of any American woman justifiably proud of her slender ankles: they look as though they might splinter at any moment. Yet they don’t. The whippet can run! He is more exacting than the greyhound. Either he insists on having a real live rabbit to pursue, or else he will race his colleagues for the fun and excitement of it.