SOME 20 years ago, on a hunting ranch near Umfolozi, we came across an elderly Zulu, bare-footed and weather-beaten, leading a dog on a raw-hide leash. The sight of the dog warmed my heart, for I had not seen one quite like it for many years, and I’d recently been reading about its type. It resembled a whippet (greyhound-like but smaller) with the same long, narrow head and snout, half-cocked ears, long legs and body, and very slender stomach. This painfully skinny dog had seen a hard life. Its short, brindled coat was patchy and scarred, and half of its slender tail was missing. The ranch manager, Alec, knew the old man, and after a brief exchange in Zulu, we went our separate ways.
That evening, around the fire, Ralph,…