As I'm a Brit the whole thing about the Super-Bowl goes right over my head. The only thing I do know about it is from turning on the old BBC late last night and seeing Madonna cavorting about the stage like a teenager on steroids.
What I do appreciate however, is the importance of dogs in the lives of many of us, as they help to keep us grounded, living in the present and sane. They also give love unconditionally unlike many of our partners.
I gather from your postings that you have Greyhounds. I used to have a Scottish Deerhound, whose parents can be seen at the start of the Kevin Costner "Robin Hood" film. He was a big daft oaf - Nero, my dog - not Kevin, and whatever hassle I had been through during my day, he always reacted the same way, with undifferentiated love and affection.
Then he developed cancer in one of his forelegs. For days and weeks we worried about how he would react to having his leg amputated, as it was clearly causing him pain when he walked around. The stress was almost unbearable because for us his whole raison d'être as a Deerhound was to run fast and capture prey, and there weren't any three-legged Deerhound ancestral role-models in the film for him to follow.
He went in for his operation and his left, front-leg was removed. He was heavily bandaged but he showed no sign of distress whatever. He didn't worry about it, he only showed massive relief when the pain had gone.
You may sense a theme following on from my posting last night about how successful traders cut losses and run profits.
The only temporary issue that Nero had thereafter came down to his sexuality as a boy-dog, and having to learn how to pee again. He kept on falling over whenever he came to a lamp-post.
I hope that the underlying message in this tale - or tail - isn't lost.
Best wishes to you, I hope you're having a good day.