The Dennis Chronicles

We have a new family member!  Bettina and I adopted Dennis (Hallo Prospect) from Fast Friends on March 9^th.  Normally I would have posted such good news right away.  But this adoption was not like any of the other three I had already experienced.  I thought I would share our story so that any new (or experienced) adopters out there take heart if they find themselves in my situation.

I first met Dennis via a photograph on Facebook.  I had just started following the page for Fast

Friends that very day.  Shortly thereafter Dennis’ photo popped up in my feed.  He was a stunning hound.  Just breathtaking.  He’s a super dark brindle and his face almost appears black.  The photo looked like they had photo shopped a black hounds head onto a brindle body.  It stopped me and I took a moment to read the blurb that was posted with the photo.  It said he was a “big” boy with a big heart who loved to play (especially with balls). 

I looked at him a moment longer and moved on.  But then I came back.  I posted a comment asking how big was big and how old was he?  I got a quick response and an invitation to call.  I found myself picking up the phone and calling.  From there Bettina and I drove to Fast Friends to meet Dennis.  I took a deep breath and said I would like to proceed forward with a home visit.

It took a few weeks before they could bring Dennis to Maine.  I waivered back and forth during that time as to whether or not now was the right time for me.  We were only 2 months out from Blue’s unexpected departure.  But as we got closer to the date of the visit, I found myself getting more and more excited and thinking of him as mine.  I decided that was a good sign.  The wonderful ladies from Fast Friends arrived on the appointed day with Dennis in tow.  They found us and our habitation suitable and soon I was waving goodbye to them with Dennis’ leash in my hands.

Here is where things began to get tough for me.  Let me start by saying Dennis was the easiest of my greyhounds with respect to just coming out of a kennel and into a home.  He picked things up very quickly.  He wasn’t perfect of course.  None of them are.  But he did amazingly well.  That was likely our saving grace.  I found myself having a completely unexpected emotional reaction to Dennis’ arrival at our house.  I found myself comparing him to the perfect Blue I had just lost and finding him lacking because he didn’t come knowing all the stuff Blue knew.  I felt numb inside and couldn’t muster up one ounce of loving feeling towards this hound.

Let me say right here that I adopted Bettina 1 month after I had lost Girly Girl.  GG was my heart dog.  And I did not go through any of this with Bettina’s arrival.  I never once compared her to Girly Girl.  And I knew intellectually that it wasn’t something that you can do with any hound.  None of them will be the same and none is “better” than another, just different.  I expected the same situation with Dennis.  But my heart wasn’t cooperating with me and my brain couldn’t make it do so.

He arrived on a Wednesday and by the third day I found myself sitting on the couch and completely breaking down.  I was convinced that this had been a huge mistake and that it had been way too soon to bring another hound in.  I felt like I wasn’t ever going to connect with Dennis.  I am sad and somewhat ashamed to say that I was probably a few hours away from calling the rescue and asking to bring him back.  Instead I spoke with my mother.  She let me sob for awhile and then said, “You know, if you’re going to bring him back, you need to do it now before he forms a bond with you.”

When she said that, I felt my chest tighten up and I realized that somewhere down under all the emotional crap I did indeed feel something for this dog.  But my unexpected emotional reaction was blocking me from realizing it.  I decided then and there that I was going to work my way through it.  I knew that Dennis was not the issue.  So I made a rule for myself.  Absolutely no judgments about Dennis, how he was doing, fitting in or learning until a minimum of 2 weeks out from his Gotcha Day.

I also sat down at my computer the next morning and wrote out a few other rules for myself.  Whenever I found myself panicking that I’d made the wrong decision adopting so soon, or felt like he was never going to be as smart, good, loving or funny as Blue, I would read the rules.  I posted them in my kitchen where I could see them all the time.  What are the rules?  Here is what I set down for myself:

RULES FOR A NEW GREYHOUND

1.  Make no judgments until 2 weeks in.

2.  Do not put pressure on yourself or on the dog to make some sort of instant love connection.  Relationships take time to build.

3.  Your job initially is to keep the dog safe, healthy and teach them how to live a retired life.

4.  Keep telling yourself-they know essentially nothing about life in a home.  Don’t expect it of them.

5.  Trust also takes time to build.  Do not expect it right away.

6.  Pare your animal husbandry down to a minimum.  Feed basic food, wait to bathe or clip nails or brush teeth until you have built some trust.

7.  If the dog does not like yogurt, or olive oil, or omega oils this is not the end of the world.

8.  You cannot compare this dog to any dog past or present.  None of the past or present dogs were perfect initially, even if they seem that way now in comparison.

I made sure they were in nice large type and also saved them to my computer desktop so I could look at them throughout the day.  Now, any of you with prior greyhound experience will be saying, these are no brainers.  We all know that.  And I agree.  I knew them also.  However, it is apparently possible to get so overwhelmed by your emotions that you lose sight of what is or should be common sense.

I’m happy to say that at some point between the 1 and 2 week mark, I got control of my bizarre emotions relating to this adoption (and the emotions were totally about me and adopting, nothing to do with Dennis himself).  I started looking at Dennis the same way I looked at all my new greyhounds prior to him. This is to say, I was able to do away with the rules because I already knew them and now my heart was on board to.  We have connected and trust is starting to build.  I’m using the same methods to teach Dennis about his new environment that I used with the others and it’s working out so well.  He’s super smart.  I love this dog.  He’s darn near perfect now and I can’t wait to see him in 6 months, a year, and 5 years down the road. 

I knew I loved him when I finally sat down and ordered a tag collar for him.  That involved committing money to the project (being a Yankee, I hate to waste money) and more importantly the fact that his name and my contact information were going to be engraved permanently on a piece of metal that he will wear.  His tag collar has been shipped and hopefully it will arrive next week some

time. 

Making use of your network of greyhound friends and family can really help to.  Many times when I was emotionally overwhelmed I had a chat with someone I knew and trusted.  They were usually able to help talk me off the ledge.  Fast Friends has also been totally supportive and they have kept in contact with me.  It’s possible someone from Fast Friends may read this post and learn just how hard a time I had initially. Up to now I hadn’t shared any of my emotional struggles with them.  If they do read this I want them to know that Dennis was always well cared for and never put in any kind of danger, nor was he treated with anything but kindness.  Now that my heart has caught up with my brain, he’s very much loved.  I hope they don’t cross me off their list of potential adopters in the future! 

I also hope that sharing my story may help someone else dealing with a similar situation realize that sometimes there are bumps when you adopt.  Even someone who has experience with greyhounds can be taken totally by surprise by these feelings.  Sometimes the best and only thing you can accomplish on some days is just to breathe.  And that is OK.

This Is a Public Service Announcement-Do Not Adopt a Greyhound

Everyone’s blogs are reminding me that April is Adopt a Greyhound month.  I have seen some great lists about why you should adopt a greyhound.  I think my favorite is posted on Greyhounds CAN Sit’s blog.  I thought I’d take a moment to give you some reasons you should NOT adopt a greyhound.

They aren’t for everyone.  Greyhounds are special creatures with amazing souls.  Some people don’t deserve them.  So if you are one of the people listed below, consider a cat or perhaps a nice pair of shoes.

1. You hate to laugh. If you have no sense of humor and spend much of your time grumpy. Do not get a greyhound.

2. You want privacy. I suppose if you are this sort of person you shouldn’t have kids or

a spouse either. But definitely do not get a greyhound. They don’t respect bathrooms, bedrooms or closed doors of any kind. Nothing is sacred.

3. You don’t like physical contact. The majority of greyhounds lean. They also like to curl up next to you. Or on you. Some must be touching you at almost all times. They are not called Velcro dogs for nothing.

4. You don’t believe that animals have souls. Greyhounds have soul spilling out their ears. And personality coming out of every other orifice. Get thee away from the hound if this is you.

5. You are fussy neat. This is probably true of any canine. Nose print art on all your windows, pounds of fur found in places you never would dream of, including most of your food, dog poop in your yard, vomit, urine, and drool. All of these things are yours with a greyhound.

6. You like to wear black or white. Forget it. If you consider yourself chic and black is the new black, don’t bother with a greyhound. You will never wear another item of clothing that doesn’t have some reminder of your black, white or multi-colored greyhound.

7. You hate dog smell. Well, wait a minute. You’d probably be all right on this one since greyhounds do not typically smell like dogs, even when wet. Still, if you hate dog smell, you really need to consider why you would get one of any kind.

8. You like to save all your money. Vet bills, food, treats, coats, collars, fancy collars, fancy

coats, bowls, beds, blankets, toys, a special greyhound sized car and all the other things you’ll buy for your hounds add up. In fact, never add it up if you want to stay in denial and thus, happy.

9. You are a super athlete looking for your next marathon partner. There certainly are cases of greyhounds that go jogging or hiking. Even a whippet that did well in disc dog competition. But 98% of greyhounds are couch potatoes. They’ll keep your spot on the couch warm. They’ll meet you at the door at the end of your run. But otherwise you’ll probably end up carrying them home about one 10th of a mile down the road.

10. You intend to reach the end of your life with a completely intact heart. When they leave you, and they ultimately must, they’ll take a giant chunk of your heart with them. The next one will help to fill the hole but it never fills in completely. At the end of your road there will be pieces missing. And it’s all in with greyhounds. There are no sort of half ways. Love it or leave it be.

It Might Just Be You...

Mumma was reading another in a long string of articles about the curse of the color black in canine rescue.  It all boils down to this: if you’re a larger dog and your coat color is black, you’re just about doomed.  If you’re a smaller dog and your coat color is black, you are slightly less doomed than the larger dog, but still pretty doomed. 

It’s insidious and probably goes back to our earliest superstitions.  Black has always been associated with bad things.  Witches, devils, darkness, evil, the bad guy in the Western movies.  Black animals have been considered familiars for all the nasty things that go bump in the night.  We laugh about it but way deep down it has a hold on us.  All the black dogs and cats waiting for adoption in the shelters can attest to this.

I’m sure you’re shaking your head, no that’s not me.  I am fine with black dogs and cats.  But ask yourself this, have you ever owned a black animal?  The majority of us will have to answer no.  It’s not that you go to the shelter or the breeder or wherever and say, I hate black dogs, I’m not going to adopt one (though some

may actually say this to themselves).  You go to the shelter and the light colored dogs all look prettier than the black dogs.  They look friendlier or friskier.  We’re predisposed to overlook the black dogs without even realizing it.

There are people out there who are doing everything they can to find homes for the chromatically challenged.  One lady has started a website called Black Pearl Dogs.  It highlights all that is amazing and good about these dogs.  Trying to cut through the clutter of brain stem evolution and maybe get you to consider the great dogs underneath that coat color.  Please check this website out and share it with your friends.

Next time you’re at the shelter please stop and take some time with a black coated dog.  Even if he doesn’t seem as “pretty” as the other dogs.  You’ll find out that they’re all as special and unique, as lively, frisky, loving and snuggly as all the other dogs.  And they’re more in need than the other dogs since they are more likely to be euthanized or languish for years in the shelter system without your help.  We can attest first hand that life with a chromatically challenged dog is wonderful.  We know from our experiences with our own Bat Girl.  Besides that, black goes with everything and everything looks good on a black dog. 

Happy Halloween!  

Anda One, Anda Two, Anda Three?

This past weekend the kids and I enjoyed ourselves at the Maine Greyhound Placement Service’s annual Open House. This year they are celebrating their 20th anniversary. As we usually do, we spent a lot of money, brought home new collars, ate our fair share of grilled meat and we even won one of the raffle prizes.

I happened to be speaking with Scott Bruns who founded MGPS. He has a wonderful grey named Cider. 


This is Cider visiting our friend Pat

This handsome fawn boy is ginormous. He is almost as big as a Great Dane. And he is utterly bonded to Scott. If Scott leaves Cider’s sight for even 30 seconds, it is a huge party when Scott comes back. Cider celebrates as if Scott had been gone for years.

When Cider arrived at MGPS, he was all the talk amongst volunteers. It was thus that he came to my attention. Carol, Blue and Bettina’s Auntie and our friend, volunteers at MGPS. From time to time she lets me know about special greys that arrive at the center. She knows my deep dark secret. That I long for a third greyhound. I’ve been thinking about what life might be like if we added a third greyhound to our family for years.

There always seems to be a very good reason why I shouldn’t do it. At first my car was so tiny we could barely fit two greyhounds in the back. Then that car caught on fire and we got a great new greyhound mobile (Honda Element, best dog car ever). Plenty of room for a third and possibly even a fourth greyhound in there.



Blue joins in the group roo

 Then Girly Girl got ill and our savings was wiped out. Money was tight. The price of everything was going up but due to the economy, no ones wages were. Lately those worries have eased a bit and I’ve actually started to rebuild some savings even though we’re a long way from recovering from Girly Girl’s medical bills. I still live in fear that Blue or Bettina gets that diagnosis.

Still Cider was pretty special so Carol told me about him. I obsessed over Mr. Cider for a number of weeks. I had, against all good sense decided to call and make an appointment to see him. The next day I found out that Scott had adopted him. Cider is so clearly happy in his life with Scott; it’s hard to be sad about that missed opportunity.

I shared that story with Scott and he asked if I had been thinking about adding a third greyhound. He told me about a sweet female who was currently onsite but not in the general adoption population currently. She was earmarked to go to someone who already owned or had owned greyhounds. My stomach knotted up.


Blue has a spa treatment at Open House

  My heart wanted a third hound. I always thought it would be another big dopey boy but a loving little female would be good to. There were still some obstacles but this was probably the best time there ever had been for adding a third baby. I asked Scott if I could see her when he had a moment.

Not long after that, he was placing a leash in my hand and I was walking this little peanut. She was just out of the kennel so she was wound up a bit. And she was overwhelmed by all the people, noise and commotion of the Open House. I took her for a little walk outside and away from the crowd. She wanted to check everything out. But for a few moments she’d come and bury her head into my chest for a snuggle. Or she’d lean against me when something frightened her. We walked over to the ex-pen under the shade of the trees to say hi to Blue and Bettina. Oddly, neither Blue, nor Bettina got up from their prone position to greet a new greyhound. They lay there looking at me and then at her. No wagging tails, no baring of teeth, no reaction what-so-ever.

We walked around a little more and I sat on the grass next to her. I asked her flat out if she was meant to come home with me.  This is a question I've asked each greyhound who joined my famiy.  I wasn’t sure in my own heart. I didn’t want to preclude something just because I was a little worried about whether or not I should get a third hound.  I have never had a clearer answer. I heard her in my head as though she were speaking to me in English. “You are not my person.”

I am pretty sure I have the cutest greyhounds ever, but maybe
two are good for the time being.

I walked her around a little more. I asked her again. I got the same reply. With a heavy heart I brought her back to Scott. Now did I really get a message from this greyhound? I don’t discount the possibility. But it also may have been a message from my brain speaking to me in the guise of a little greyhound. Or perhaps they were both speaking to me.

The end result was the same. We enjoyed the Open House. We won a new dog bed! My heart still has its little secret wish. Given how special the little female grey was, I have no doubt she will shortly find a great home with people who know and love greyhounds already. And someday, maybe someday, Carol will let me know about a great new arrival at the kennel who will tell me just as clearly that I AM his (her?) person.

Wordless Wednesday - Is This Where I Can Adopt a Retired Human?

I Remember When....



Lady Flame and her dad, Drew, on her adoption day  (Photo courtesy of MND Family Blog)

There are so many great things about the adoption of a greyhound.  Some friends of ours brought their first greyhound home on Saturday.  Lady Flame has now begun her transformation from retired racing greyhound to beloved family member.  Lady's new mom, Laurie, has been keeping us apprised of her adventures via email and their blog, Maine Nature Diary Family Blog.  



Girly Girl on her adoption day

The beginning of their lives as a trio very much reminds me of my Saturdays at MGPS when I brought home each of my babies, Girly Girl, Blue and then Bettina.  I think it's universal (at least it is with all the greyhound people I've spoken with), you just never forget your first day with any of the hounds that share your life.  I remember so well the excitement of that morning when you get up and get ready for your appointment at the kennel.  Then you get there and start meeting greyhounds.  As each one comes out you think, "Is this the one?  Is this my baby?"  And sometimes there is a little disappointment when that one wasn't your baby but then the next one comes out.  But finally you meet THE one and it clicks.  You know it, the hound knows it and you open your mouth and make that lifetime commitment.  Then, while the paperwork is being completed, you are beside yourself with excitement to get that leash into your hand for good, but also a little fearful.  What have you gotten into?  Will it work out?  Did I make the right decision?  Still, your heart knows you made the exact right decision.  

Blue on his adoption day


Lady's parents spent a great deal of time preparing for her arrival.  They did a ton of research on greyhounds in general and on the specific greyhounds at the MGPS.  It helped that they had been dog caretakers before, though greyhounds were a new breed for them.  They read a number of "raising greyhound" type books.  They attended numerous meet and greets as well as the MGPS Open House.  They carefully researched food choices and veterinarians.  They shopped for all the necessities they would need before she arrived.  They even held off on making their adoption appointment so they could get their yard fenced in for their new adoptee. 

I remember that I had conducted a lot of research before adopting Girly Girl.  I read every book on greyhound care that I could put my hands on.  I attended meet and greets.  I got my supplies in order before GG's arrival.  But Laurie and Drew eclipsed my level of preparedness by far.  It makes so much sense to know what you are getting into before you jump in.  If everyone who adopted a greyhound put in half the time that Lady's mom and dad did to learn about the breed before bringing one home, I think there would be a zero percent bounce back rate. 


Bettina on her adoption day

 We are so thrilled for Lady Flame.  She doesn't really know it yet, but she picked herself a first rate mom and dad.  Lady is now busy learning about stairs, houses, treats, soft beds, human furniture and all the other things that civilian life brings.  She's in culture shock but she's already on the path to becoming a loving family member.  In the meantime, the greater greyhound family is rejoicing that another hound has found a forever home, cheering Lady's family on and fondly remembering those days when we each brought our needlenose kids home.

Yes I Know My Dogs Look Funny

Yes I Know My Dogs Look Funny is what I decided to name my blog when I started it. A bit lengthy. Not exceptionally catchy or amusing, I know. I tried to think of a clever, urbane, fabulous name for this repository of greyhound ramblings but in the end, I kept coming back to this.

When I first got my furry children some five years ago, the greyhound rescue movement in Maine had already been in existence more than 10 years. I had been following their trajectory for at least five of those ten years, desperately wanting a greyhound of my own. Unfortunately, apartment living (cue Snoopy and the “No Dogs Allowed” song) and a busy life filled with lots of travel and long work days precluded that.

The rescue of greyhounds was well established here in Maine (and probably a venerable old institution in the rest of the wide world) by the time I joined the ranks of greyhound mums and fanatics. Yet every time we ventured out of the house, we were besieged by the curious and confused. People would stop us every few feet. “Is that a greyhound? I’ve never seen one in person before.” “What sort of dog is that?” “I know I’ve seen pictures of a dog like this but I can’t think of what that is.” And my favorite, a small boy who felt the need to break loose from his mom and run across a park to ask me if I knew that my dogs looked funny?

After a while I became used to not being able to walk 20 feet without being stopped so someone could see the hounds and ask questions about them. Five years ago, one person in 100 would say they had seen a greyhound before. One in 500 would say they knew someone who owned one or owned one themselves.

I guess it was gradual but there came a day recently when I was out and about with the hounds and I realized that, while we were getting stopped just as frequently, I wasn’t meeting many people who had never seen a greyhound before or didn’t know what one was. I was meeting people who had always wanted to spend time with greyhounds or who knew the breed and loved them. The number of people who knew someone with a greyhound increased dramatically. “There are two greys in my neighborhood.” “I see a lady walking her greyhound in town every morning as I drive to work.” “My next door neighbor has three greyhounds and I just love them!” “I want my next dog to be a greyhound.” “I once owned a greyhound and sure miss him/her.” Or my favorite, “I have greyhounds to!!”

There is no doubt that the considerable army of greyhound adopters and the well executed program of meet and greets has done an excellent job in significantly boosting brand awareness and stimulating the “I have to get me one of those” mentality. It has been a successful marketing campaign by all counts.

This has led me to consider whether the name of my blog may now be obsolete. I’ve been wondering if I should change it but in the end I think not. I’ll always look back fondly on the olden times when greyhounds were a brave new world and a little boy was compelled to let me know I had some funny looking dogs, just in case I hadn’t noticed that for myself.

Unquiet On the Eastern Front

We’ve had a visitor! Since we live in the sticks, that is not a frequent occurrence. The whole house has been in an uproar.

This past Monday night at the last potty before bedtime, I let the kids out as I usually do. Only after they hit the back lawn did I look up and notice a pair of shining green eyes amongst the shamefully un-whacked weeds.

Oh Crap!!!! What the heck is that? Cat? Skunk (oh god please no)? Porcupine (oh god please no again)? It was too late; the hounds had already been released. I held my breath, waiting for the imminent fracas. Except my alleged sight hounds didn’t seem to notice the mystery interloper. Feeling like I had a chance, I nonchalantly sauntered down the steps and inched my way towards Bettina.

I knew that if anyone was going to get into trouble in this situation, it would most certainly be my Vice President of Checking Stuff Out. So when I reached her, I got hold of her then turned to deal with the beastie in the grass.

I made noises. I shooed. I stomped. I shouted. The eyes stayed right where they were. Blue and Bettina were staring at mumma clearly thinking that mumma has gone ‘round the bend.

I thought a few moments and then tried again, this time taking a few steps in the eyes’ direction and dragging Bettina along with me so I could keep my grasp on her. The weeds rustle. Out from the puckerbrush sashays a small cat. A cat. In our backyard, the wolves den. We haven’t had a cat in the yard since the neighborhood mouser tried it once just after the fence went up. Once was all it took.

Kitty strolled leisurely to the gap between the fence and garage then slipped out into the night. This entire episode takes place right under Bettina and Blue’s very noses and neither one ever noticed. Sight hounds my ass…

In any case, I figured problem solved. Kitty learns lesson, hounds no worse for wear. Except on Tuesday evening I was sure I was hearing noises every time I walked into the kitchen.  Eventually I approached the back door cautiously. We have curtains on the all-glass door. The curtains are sheer which ensures no one can see in during the day and you can’t see outside at night. I thought I was detecting faint movement through the curtain. I flipped on the porch light and jumped back at the unexpected sight of Kitty sitting on the back porch, meowing piteously to come inside.

I chased Kitty out of the yard hissing and shouting. I’d hoped to scare it off in order to avoid having to watch Bettina eat it. Kitty disappeared around the corner of the house and was soon back on the porch like some miniature furry peeping-Tom.

I had to chase Kitty out of the yard again in order to let the kids out for last potty without significant bloodshed. But Wednesday afternoon Kitty was waiting at the door for us right after work. Bettina, the sight hound, finally saw it and began frantically clawing at the door, poking a hole in my sheer curtains and barking madly.

Kitty waited patiently for me as I stepped outside and closed the back door on a major rumble of black fur and teeth trying to force its way out the door right behind me. Kitty was completely un-phased by this show of ferocity and she rubbed against my leg. I picked Kitty up. Kitty snuggled right into my chest. Darn cute little thing!

Still, I brought Kitty to the fence and stuffed her under the gate. Then I let the dogs out. Kitty hung out right where she was, just out of reach on the outside of the fence. Bettina lost her little mind and ran straight at the fence all barks, growls and fangs. Kitty stood her ground.

Completely flummoxed, Bettina amped up the Cujo factor and began again to berate and threaten Kitty. Kitty stood there just long enough to let Her Royal Highness know there was a new royal in town and that Bettina wasn’t fooling anyone with her shtick. Then Kitty leisurely ambled along the fence line, stopping occasionally to watch the whirling dervish keeping pace on the inside of the fence.

Eventually Kitty disappeared again around the corner of the house. I thought that this had to have left an impression on the pint size feline and I gathered Blue and the freak show that is Bettina and we all went inside. I’m not sure what made me do it, but I took a quick peek out the front door and…

there was Kitty still mounting her campaign to adopt me.

I broke down and fed Kitty some salmon treats on the front porch with Bettina serenading us from inside the house. Kitty began showing up every morning and evening after that. The plan is to take Kitty to the local shelter but she has an uncanny knack for arriving before the shelter is open or after it closes.

Bettina has made it exceedingly clear that she would LOVE to adopt the little hors de oeuvre. She hasn’t stopped telling me so, loudly, ever since she finally laid eyes on the furry little bugger.

Post Script:

I was successful at finally seeing Kitty during shelter hours and she is now on her way to getting a loving forever home. The shelter has named her Zig Zag and I’m just waiting for her to appear on the website so I can follow her until her adoption. Bettina is disconsolate and hungry.

Bat Girl

Losing Girly Girl has been among the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. I knew how special she was and how special our relationship was from the moment she chose me at the rescue kennel. Knowing what I had and also knowing I was going to lose it, in fact was powerless to do anything about it, shook everything I believed in.

I feel like I am still reeling from her untimely departure, almost two months after her death. I knew I would someday bring home another greyhound to honor Girly Girl’s memory. But I fully expected that to be at least six months to a year in the future. At a minimum. I didn’t realize that Girly Girl had other plans for me.

I had kept a fairly low profile for the last few months of Girly Girl’s illness and the month after her passing. I had not had much contact with the members of my extended greyhound family. All that staying home had taken a toll on Blue. Being such a social butterfly, he has a fundamental need to get out and meet people. He must be loved and adored by his public. So, about four weeks ago, I decided to drag myself out into the light of day and take Blue to one of our favorite pet stores, The Animal House.

The Animal House is a bit of a distance from our house but Blue and I set out for a nice ride. Upon arrival, we made the requisite stop by the cashiers’ station so Blue could extract the maximum treats and attention from the staff. Then I hauled Blue away from his birthright and started to browse around the store. After a time, we heard, “there’s a greyhound in here!” We looked over to see Blue’s “Auntie” Carol standing in the aisle. We hadn’t seen Carol, one of our Meet and Greet Family members, for quite some time. It was so unusual to run into each other in that place and at that time that it took Carol a minute or two to recognize that the greyhound was Blue and that the poor wreck at the other end of his leash was me. It was, in fact, the first time we had ever seen Carol at The Animal House outside of our appointed meet and greet days.

Carol and I chatted for a bit, got caught up. Blue extracted his adoration and then we went on our respective ways. That evening I got an email from Carol. She wanted to tell me that she had dreamt about Girly Girl the night before. Now Carol has shared her life with greyhounds for many years but she said she had never dreamt about any greyhound until the night before she saw me. Carol had hesitated to tell me about the dream when she saw me in the store because she had not wanted to upset me. But the circumstances of our meeting being somewhat strange, we debated whether or not the dream may have meaning.

Because of the nature of my questions concerning the bigger picture and Girly Girl’s cancer, I had desperately been hoping for some sort of sign that Girly Girl was in a good place and that there was some chance we might see each other again. Carol and I wondered if maybe the dream may have been a sign. But neither of us could figure out why Girly Girl would visit Carol in her dream and not come to her mumma?

While Carol and I were pondering these issues, Carol completed one of her regular shifts at the Maine Greyhound Placement Service kennel. Carol wears many volunteer hats there but happened to be doing turn out on that visit. Carol soon emailed me that there was a new load of greyhounds that had just arrived at the kennel on the day we had seen each other at The Animal House. As Carol was greeting each one and reading their names on the crates she came across a beautiful little fawn girl. When Carol checked the name on the crate: Girlie. Carol said she wouldn’t have mentioned it to me for fear of causing me upset, however, after our discussion about the dream, she felt it was yet another strange coincidence.

I have never believed in coincidences and I generally manage to believe everything happens for a reason. It clicked into place why Girly Girl would appear to Carol in her dream. You see, Carol, of all the people who know me, would be in the unique position to see Girlie, the new grey, and, having bumped into me the day before, would be sure to tell me about her because of the dream and our unexpected meeting. I was in no way ready for a new greyhound in my life but things were pointing me towards a visit with Girlie. I figured it couldn't hurt just to go up there and see her.  I wouldn't be obligated.  I called and set the appointment for the coming Saturday.

That Saturday morning with Blue and my mother for support, I drove to the kennel to meet Girlie. I waited nervously while they brought out the sweetest looking little fawn girl with striking Elizabeth Taylor eyes, just like Girly Girl had. I took her leash and walked her around. Then around some more. Then I sat down and tried to engage her. But try as I might, I could not get Girlie to even acknowledge me, let alone make any kind of connection. I might have blamed it on her being overly excited except she attached herself to my mother quite clearly. I was very puzzled. Why was I at MGPS if it wasn’t for Girlie?

My mother suggested that, since we were already there, perhaps I should meet another hound. That just maybe, Girly Girl arranged for someone else to succeed her. I was a bit disappointed that Girlie was a bust and I wasn’t really ready for a new baby. I considered just leaving but mom and the kennel volunteer seemed so eager to show me someone else so I agreed to meet another. Out came Helda, a great looking, rather large, brindle girl. She was out of control and almost immediately attacked Blue. Grammy ended up being bitten when she stuck her hand in Helda’s mouth to keep her from biting Blue’s neck. Scratch Helda.

By now I was thinking about what a mistake this had been and what I was going to do after we left the kennel. But again my mother and the kennel volunteer prevailed upon me to give it one more try. Half-heartedly I agreed to just one more. Soon Jess was back with a sleek looking, almost completely black girl named Mo (short for Mohican Heart). She was a bit excited at first but she calmed as I walked her around. Every time we paused, she would run back to me from the end of the lead and lean against me for a scratch or rub. When I sat next to her, she tried licking my face. She got on famously well with Blue though he was pretty gun shy after getting his butt kicked by Helda.

Mo was very loving, outgoing and friendly. I felt a little twinge. But I asked to see Girlie again. It didn’t seem right that I was considering leaving Girlie behind. She was from Alabama, from the same trainer as Girly Girl. She had Elizabeth Taylor eyes! So Jess brought Girlie back out and there was just no doubt. She made no connection with me whatsoever. I hemmed and hawed for a bit. My inner voice wasn’t giving me clear direction. My brain was telling me that I probably should just go home. I wasn’t ready. So I opened my mouth and said, “It’s Mo. I’ll take her.” Wait. What? 

Before I could think too much about the “what?” part, I was in the office reviewing Mo’s paperwork and writing a check. It turned out that Girlie had been retired for two months before coming to MGPS. Her trainer had held her there at his kennel until MGPS could make their next pick up because he had wanted to send her to Maine. Not only that, but Mo had been at MGPS for six months. She had been chosen by a family and was scheduled to go home with them on October 20th but for some reason it had fallen through.

When all the paper had transferred and Mo was loaded into the car with Blue, I sat in the driver’s seat a bit stunned and dazed. My mother turned to me and said, “Think about it. If Carol had emailed you to tell you about Mo, would you have come to see her?” I just wasn’t ready and I would not have. “Girly Girl saw to it that the one person who would be in a position see Girlie and you (Carol) told you about Girlie. You wouldn’t have come here for any other dog. Girlie had been held for two months so she would end up at MGPS. That got you here. But when you got here you met the hound you were supposed to. One who had been waiting here for you for six months. Who had been adopted a few weeks before you arrived but it fell through and she was ready for you.”

So meet Mohican Heart, Mo, now known as Bettina and nicknamed by our Meet & Greet Family as Bat Girl. She’s just turned 2 years old October 8th. She was sent to Rhode Island to race but never had the opportunity to get on the track before it closed. Apparently they assessed that it was not worth shipping her to another track and after I first saw her run, I understood. She’s extremely loving but in many, many ways still a baby. I have my hands full. There have been a few times I have looked at the sky and asked, “Really? Really!?!” Then I subtly feel the poke of a much loved but now absent needle nose gently prodding me forward. After all, Bettina comes with a very special recommendation.

Your Dogs Look Funny!

Oh just a dollar for every time I hear that!

But the jokes on you all, because Greyhounds aren't really dogs. Not in the sense that other dogs are "dogs". Because most greyhounds spend their entire lives being trained to race, or racing, and thus they have an entirely different sensibility than the ordinary household pet. They don't learn how to play with toys or other dogs. They don't ever see other dog breeds and know only greyhounds. They see few people other than their caretakers and that is for a few short hours a day.

Coming to retirement for a greyhound can be traumatic at first. They don't know about stairs, glass doors, windows, tile or linoleum flooring. They may be the only dog in a home when they've spent their whole life with no less than 30-50 dogs at all times. They probably have never ridden in a car before. Some may be dealing with career ending injuries in addition to this whole new world of retirement.

This unique life experience combines to create a creature with a gentle soul (yeah, go figure). A couch potato who sleeps most of the day but who can reach 40 miles an hour given the chance. A creature who will be absolutely devoted to you, heart and soul. Who will capture your heart in return. Who will ruin you for other dogs and make you a fanatic and unapologetically so.

Since the first brindle girl came home in my back seat with her tail tucked tightly between her legs, I have had more adventures than I can ever relate. Adding her "brother" a breathtaking amber-eyed white and blue behemoth only added to the laughs we've had every day. I changed, on that day I brought my girl home from being a person who always liked dogs to someone who was completely nuts about greyhounds. Someone who began living, breathing and dreaming about greyhounds. Someone who began photographing only greyhounds. Someone who began collecting all things greyhound. Someone who began reading every book about greyhounds she could find. Nuts. Absolutely nuts.

In this blog I hope to chronicle my change and how much better my life became as a result. To put down the daily ridiculous things that happen to us in order to remember them. Time being such a thief and memory a fickle thing at best, I hate to lose even a minute. And with that...let the blog begin. Oops, I think it just did.