Very beautiful fast dog Casey

A white greyhound with little spots is visiting us tonight as part of learning her new job. Casey used to run like the wind, now she's being fostered as she learns how to be a pet. Hazel and Iris are in love, but finally asleep.

Iris said, when asked, that the best thing about Casey is
"Pee and poo on grass," and, after a pause for thought, "very beautiful fast dog Casey."
Later, when I thought she was almost asleep she perked right up and started a conversation:
"Get a dog, my dog, very same kind dog as Casey."
I looked at her dubiously,
"I five, my dog, very same kind dog as Casey."
"If we had a dog," I said uncommittingly, "it would be everyone's dog, Hazel's dog too."
"No! My dog! Hazel have baby sister."
"Oh, so you have a dog and Hazel has you."
"No! Hazel have baby sister."
"Aaah." I said, even less committingly.

Hazel drew Casey a picture of a bone, but got very frustrated because she's been watching Harold and the Purple Crayon lately and her bone wasn't as effortless-seeming a piece of cultural signage as his work and he looks younger. When I told Hazel what Iris had said she said, with very big blue serious eyes,
"I would love a dog even more than a baby."

Hmmm. An ex-racing greyhound would be someone to be proud of, but they need thoughtful understanding because for thousands of years they've been bred and socialised to go f'tannng! and be gone over the horizon after something small and fast; you can't walk them off the lead or tie them to anything.