During the centuries of Romanov rule in Russia, wolf hunting was an all-consuming passion of the Russian aristocracy. Nobles would stage ritualized hunts—festivals, really—on their vast estates, with their guests, horses, and hounds ferried in on special hunt trains. It wasn’t unusual for a hundred Borzoi and just as many servants to be employed in these extravagant affairs, which traditionally concluded with a great feast at the manor house. “It is difficult today to even imagine the grand scale and magnificence to which the gentle Borzoi is heir,” wrote a breed historian. “Before 1861, and to a lesser extent after that time up to the Russian Revolution in 1917, the time, effort, and money expended on these ‘hunts,’ as they were called, is surely unequaled in the development of any breed.” Russia’s great novelist Leo Tolstoy, himself a devoted Borzoi fan, immortalized one of these grand spectacles in his War and Peace. With the Revolution came the wholesale slaughter of the Romanov family, their nobles, and their aristocratic hounds. This was a disaster that set back Russian breeding of Borzoi and other national breeds for much of the 20th century. If not for the Borzoi’s devotees abroad, the breed might have gone extinct. In the years leading up to the Revolution, dog fanciers in England and America had begun the importation of Borzoi to their shores. These early imports ensured the breed’s survival. In the English-speaking world, the breed name was Russian Wolfhound. In America this changed in 1936, when after a long and spirited debate pro and con among the U.S. breed fancy, the breed was officially rechristened the Borzoi, from the Russian borzyi, meaning “swift.” By all accounts, this noble breed of haughty looks and sterling temperament is little changed from the hounds Tolstoy described so movingly in his writings.