tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37293681275186906582024-03-13T00:01:25.162-04:00 Yes I Know, My Dogs Look FunnyThe incredible, amazing adventures of a girl and her two greyhounds living in a small town in the boon-docks of Maine.Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.comBlogger191125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-30603942639416532192017-03-09T00:00:00.000-05:002017-03-09T00:00:06.467-05:00One Year Ago<div class="MsoNormal">
One year ago, Dennis the Menace invaded our home. That’s pretty much the only way I can put
it. He was a stunning hound I just wasn’t
ready for. Without a doubt, Dennis has
been the most challenging greyhound in my adopting experience. I’m glad he wasn’t my first greyhound but
came to me at a time when I was better equipped to handle him and knowledgeable
enough to know what I needed to do.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70BoXa4LT9X72icDSHKkVNCD0qBy4UHP0phJ_yb3tqDwAuxkKiPD0kWTCmP7Qv8j2k_SL-ylHtL6V4VY5tqHjKgcmBkNVRVfZ2-fFAjZnaeLI5XxKU4BpSnYJ8RwBqL-4ljREcmJUc5E/s1600/DSCN0082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Dennis can sit!" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70BoXa4LT9X72icDSHKkVNCD0qBy4UHP0phJ_yb3tqDwAuxkKiPD0kWTCmP7Qv8j2k_SL-ylHtL6V4VY5tqHjKgcmBkNVRVfZ2-fFAjZnaeLI5XxKU4BpSnYJ8RwBqL-4ljREcmJUc5E/s320/DSCN0082.jpg" title="Dennis can sit!" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He can sit! But he refuses to do so on command.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This isn’t to say that Dennis is a bad dog. Nothing further from the truth. I’m totally in love with him and have made my
commitment to be his Mumma until the day I help him cross to the bridge. They say you don’t get the dog you want, you
get the one you need and I think that has been true with Dennis. Sometimes you don’t realize the lessons your
greyhound has taught you until you look back over years spent with him or
her. And sometimes your greyhound comes barreling
in and hands you your lessons with trumpets blaring.</div>
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Dennis is such a loving boy.
And he wants to please and be a part of everything. But Dennis has a hard time trusting. Our first year has been spent with Mumma
learning how best to introduce Dennis to his new life and Dennis learning to
trust that Mumma has his best interests at heart. We have made so much progress and I see a
bright future for us as we head into year two.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Bettina and Dennis have mutually agreed to be part of the
same pack. That took some negotiation
and I laugh now to think of it because it was a similar process when Bettina
came barreling in (with the name Crazy Mo) and threw poor Blue for a loop. Dennis came in from his kennel with the
nickname Dennis the Menace if that tells you anything about him. I sometimes call him Freak Show. But our friends insist that his name is
Dennis Galahad.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Dennis has proven himself to actually be somewhat of a guard
dog. He patrols his fence line like a</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGMNuaul0wUlvwsudlJ5zqhEhBeUe9UMIPS6EpYkAbsMrX3RuNZ9WESVanoIpBM_RIlSrTV_ocwLYju0yjaJ-BexrmlpTeXCO53RBw7BCFiyfyMGN8xJvmr8P9AG1dPRLzoxRdWCZYTg/s1600/DSCN0495.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="A greyhound that loves fetch?" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmGMNuaul0wUlvwsudlJ5zqhEhBeUe9UMIPS6EpYkAbsMrX3RuNZ9WESVanoIpBM_RIlSrTV_ocwLYju0yjaJ-BexrmlpTeXCO53RBw7BCFiyfyMGN8xJvmr8P9AG1dPRLzoxRdWCZYTg/s320/DSCN0495.jpg" title="A greyhound that loves fetch?" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He plays fetch and LOVES balls of all kinds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
soldier and if anyone or anything gets too close, he puts on a show. I always know if something is amiss. Dennis has even taken to alerting me if my
cell phone rings or I get a text or a special weather alert or an alarm goes
off and I’m not within hearing of it. He
is not chivalrous at all. If there is
any sort of rain or snow melt causing water to drip off the roof, Dennis will
let his sister go on the porch and stand at the door alerting me that they want
to come in. While she gets water dripped
all over her, he stands at the bottom of the stairs and waits until the door is
open. Then he dashes in to avoid getting
wet.<br />
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</div>
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Dennis has a fascination with the shower which is odd for a
hound who doesn’t want to get water dripped on him outside. He’s had one bath in there so far but that
hasn’t remotely put him off the bathroom.
It only took one bath for Bettina to steer clear of that room like it
was the plague. Dennis loves to come in
while I’m showering and throw the curtain open (letting all my nice warm steamy
air out). He investigates for awhile and
then he comes back when the shower is over so he can help me dry off by licking
the water off my legs and then helping to clean the shower by licking the water
off the shower walls and curtain. He
finishes that off by nibbling for a bit on the washcloth that is hanging to dry
out.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4bY3JcBiL4gqjZprk05l1brhxYrgBN3WDg3Xah_XK_L4esGZF2KK6zjsvyGFuXSvTW5loCY0YLyBhbzxHD8fh88V7dzGiMSxnfvzbtPYWcTqv9nR50s7OynYwdbFbbFEjK-9ADc3uC0/s1600/IMG_6235.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina and Dennis in the cool spot" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4bY3JcBiL4gqjZprk05l1brhxYrgBN3WDg3Xah_XK_L4esGZF2KK6zjsvyGFuXSvTW5loCY0YLyBhbzxHD8fh88V7dzGiMSxnfvzbtPYWcTqv9nR50s7OynYwdbFbbFEjK-9ADc3uC0/s320/IMG_6235.jpg" title="Bettina and Dennis in the cool spot" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bettina and Dennis hog the cool spot during a Bowdoin Gang play date.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Dennis’s favorite scent seems to be hairspray. When he knows I’m going to be doing something
with my hair, he sticks to me like glue.
He’s learned to love the hairdryer because it usually heralds the use of
the hairspray. Once I’ve sprayed it on
my head, he spends the rest of his time trying to rub against my hair and then
he lays down and rolls all over the small rug on which the remaining particles
of hairspray have landed. </div>
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All my other greyhounds have had impeccable car
manners. But not Dennis. He insisted that any time I vacated the driver’s
seat; he would keep my seat warm. He
also sometimes felt it was a good idea to climb into the passenger seat while I
was driving. I had to get a barrier to
put up between the two front seats. Now
Dennis rides with his head just over that barrier, or he rests his head on the
back of the seat so his nose is right in my ear. On his trip to Maine with the ladies from his
kennel, he spent his time in the backseat chewing his way through one of the
seatbelts in the car. There is now The
Dennis Rule at his rescue which says muzzles on at all times while in the car.</div>
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Dennis is not a rooer.
But he is an enthusiastic barker.
He loves Petco and will spend as much time as I will let him chasing the
ferrets around and around their enclosure.
Thankfully there is glass </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7U808rPix4ozQvkUPyWbuOEeJlMjybmLkjHiC-ByNw3kD2-3iI91gGmyPmPTgRqwT3cCbRKlzS1xpRDyeo0YcpbHuemtUzAa4IbgF-lUn5OyhW54UzU4OYMAz7bN3VzIYgb0yr-ItH0/s1600/IMG_6825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Birthday Boy Dennis" border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr7U808rPix4ozQvkUPyWbuOEeJlMjybmLkjHiC-ByNw3kD2-3iI91gGmyPmPTgRqwT3cCbRKlzS1xpRDyeo0YcpbHuemtUzAa4IbgF-lUn5OyhW54UzU4OYMAz7bN3VzIYgb0yr-ItH0/s320/IMG_6825.jpg" title="Birthday Boy Dennis" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many milestones yet to come.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
between them.
The ferrets seem to enjoy torturing him.
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Dennis is a big goofy love bug. He’s even taller than Blue was and weighs
more as well. I got exactly what I was
hoping for, only it came in different packaging with a different
presentation. It just took me a little
while to realize that while he isn’t goofy and loving in the same way Blue was,
in his own way, Dennis is marvelous. </div>
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Happy First Gotcha Day D-Menace. I can’t wait to see where you take me in our
second year together!</div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-48067046335525044352016-07-04T00:00:00.000-04:002016-07-04T00:00:24.621-04:00Happy Fourth of July!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: start;">Hope you all eat lots of hot dogs and burgers, drink lots of whatever you like to drink best, and have no idiots in your neighborhood shooting off a ton of fireworks.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JHP5VuMaeI6a5ybDxJtdEyNsSkfAxifgC8-T0fOYwxeHlcQ6ci0Y7Tva29DFebR5lOde3FI_QSSzpDaPO1sCDIg5KMhxlZ4j6RRkk75JzrT7Y9ziCvv7FOJPicIPSLju9rkYBVVFNi4/s1600/2865646.38385.1820795_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Yankee Doodle Dennis" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4JHP5VuMaeI6a5ybDxJtdEyNsSkfAxifgC8-T0fOYwxeHlcQ6ci0Y7Tva29DFebR5lOde3FI_QSSzpDaPO1sCDIg5KMhxlZ4j6RRkk75JzrT7Y9ziCvv7FOJPicIPSLju9rkYBVVFNi4/s400/2865646.38385.1820795_large.png" title="Yankee Doodle Dennis" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_0YHZ5UdQnl7MwZXNbbu2gJ6-q_kcc5QRKC2KWSLKOmRAyuh2UAbT9x-zmWTzcQSvj1VJfse1uQqa1bCKkj5Hwcm1zVeEf2cutP4lvWfz3vajcf8f5ZNHI-uDE2ExqjjakLjuwGkGBU/s1600/2865646.38385.1820809_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Stars and Stripes Bettina " border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_0YHZ5UdQnl7MwZXNbbu2gJ6-q_kcc5QRKC2KWSLKOmRAyuh2UAbT9x-zmWTzcQSvj1VJfse1uQqa1bCKkj5Hwcm1zVeEf2cutP4lvWfz3vajcf8f5ZNHI-uDE2ExqjjakLjuwGkGBU/s400/2865646.38385.1820809_large.png" title="Stars and Stripes Bettina" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-10029146561529093542016-05-09T00:30:00.000-04:002016-05-09T00:30:12.907-04:00Training Bad<div class="MsoNormal">
Dennis and I went to our first obedience class last
night. We are signed up for 5 weeks of
classes at Mr. Dog located in West Bath, Maine.
The lady who owns it has been voted the best dog trainer in Maine for a
couple years now. I figured, how could
we go wrong with that? I must admit,
with that kind of fire power I had high hopes.
Visions of a grand champion obedience hound. I cannot say why I had these delusions given
the fact that I had taken Bettina to a training class when she first joined me
and learned pretty quickly that high hopes are dangerous.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFYC5q4n6O1xtMSO1sIWtFH3YHebk4_vqBYK6hbQkqi8PjQJfu35baGs67IWQMHEdR8tSJKIdH1As04XDFSx9OruZexEKFTumgvAf09cm2x4E-f4IA6xQuelOEpX5ATcDX4uPI2DimfA/s1600/IMG_0679blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Dennis greyhound at training" border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKFYC5q4n6O1xtMSO1sIWtFH3YHebk4_vqBYK6hbQkqi8PjQJfu35baGs67IWQMHEdR8tSJKIdH1As04XDFSx9OruZexEKFTumgvAf09cm2x4E-f4IA6xQuelOEpX5ATcDX4uPI2DimfA/s400/IMG_0679blog.jpg" title="Dennis greyhound at training" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching all the other dogs sit and get tons of yummy treats.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But my hopes for Dennis were reinforced when two of the
participants were so freaked out they had to take part behind blanket draped
x-pens so as not to see the other participants in the class. Most of the rest were yanking their owners all
around the room. We had two young labs,
one on each side of</div>
us, and they were hauling their owners out of their
seats. Dennis was excited but he calmly
stood there in front of me, slightly leaning on my leg for reassurance. He looked like a rock star in this
group. <br />
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My head swelled all up.
Dennis was going to be the gold star student. We were going to show up everyone and I would
practice being humble. I was already
practicing in my head. The trainer went
around and introduced herself to each pet parent and dog. When she got to us the first thing out of her
mouth after “this must be Dennis” was “you know greyhounds don’t sit, right?”</div>
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I assured her I knew that but in this case, Dennis was a
natural sitter. Frequently he sits for
the heck of it. We so got this. Except of course, we hadn't got this. Of course we had to start with sit. My old nemeses sit. The trainer told us what she wanted us to do
and demonstrated with a little Chihuahua who sat perfectly. Then I watched as the labs on either side of
us also nailed perfect sits. I took a
deep breath and asked Dennis for a sit.
He looked at me. I moved on to
step two, taking a piece of hot dog, holding it first in front of his nose and
then up over his head. Dennis would only
back up. His butt, which the trainer
assured us would naturally sink to the floor when you held the treat over their
head, didn’t get anywhere near the floor.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9lsuKyt3oYx9-P0XLLQ03t-4CGU7KV2qQYq6HCKRFx-RzxaDYWeoDnb8yxng-1LMFvghNxEYhyphenhyphenhCgC9yhEGT7tROhryHKZAR0sEH23HtwHpkrvm9WbkddVWkQbhv1Dqwl3Opem7kPOQ/s1600/IMG_8881blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Dennis greyhound sits" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9lsuKyt3oYx9-P0XLLQ03t-4CGU7KV2qQYq6HCKRFx-RzxaDYWeoDnb8yxng-1LMFvghNxEYhyphenhyphenhCgC9yhEGT7tROhryHKZAR0sEH23HtwHpkrvm9WbkddVWkQbhv1Dqwl3Opem7kPOQ/s320/IMG_8881blog.jpg" title="Dennis greyhound sits" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blurry yes, but PROOF that he sits...when he wants to.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We tried a few times and then took a rest. Tried a few more times, took a rest. Dennis was getting discouraged because he
wasn’t earning any of those yummy pieces of hot dog. Soon he stopped paying any attention to me
and started watching the dogs all around us who were getting stuffed full treats. Finally I felt bad and just started giving
him treats. We’d celebrate the fact that
he looked at me when I said his name. Or
that he held my gaze for a second before turning back to watch the other dogs. </div>
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Eventually I just gave up all together and sat there while
everyone practiced a sit and stay until released. Dennis
started to drool a little watching everyone get treats. I was beginning to think maybe this was not
such a great idea and now we were locked into 4 more weeks of this. Luckily we switched to learning to
target. I think the trainer could read
the look on my face since she chose to use Dennis as her demonstration dog for
this. </div>
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He picked it up quickly and was touching her palm like a super
dog. Then it was my turn. I did manage to get him to touch my
palm. I will admit that it has been
awhile since I’ve done much training and I quickly realized how sloppy I was
with my commands and rewards. We
practiced target a bit and Dennis was happy to be getting fed finally. So our
first training class ended on a high note, but we are not setting the world on
fire. Mumma’s vanity and pride have
suffered a bit of a hit. That’s what I
get, I guess, for being a stage mom.</div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-59646872514507198442016-05-05T00:30:00.000-04:002016-05-05T00:30:08.065-04:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6hctIcJv2bQuz7OSe_EYnPajt4bXSPGV6hU3u2imqjjLqql-NIwdqbUz5uUakZbKy5C38-U2qB-B8gTyUpPHewOF0nwLDu4ivqvzEkKsTa0ap7nP7gMnUgjRIv4FXUataTllj-moiyQ/s1600/IMG_5244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Dennis and Bettina OLE" border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO6hctIcJv2bQuz7OSe_EYnPajt4bXSPGV6hU3u2imqjjLqql-NIwdqbUz5uUakZbKy5C38-U2qB-B8gTyUpPHewOF0nwLDu4ivqvzEkKsTa0ap7nP7gMnUgjRIv4FXUataTllj-moiyQ/s400/IMG_5244.jpg" title="Dennis and Bettina OLE" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Disclaimer: As with any newly retired greyhound (Dennis), hat wearing does not come naturally. Most of them have not had the benefit of haute couture prior to their retirement. So bear with us while Dennis learns to keep his duds on and Mumma has a little more time to snap a less blurry picture. OLE!</div>
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Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-85347001852947457342016-05-04T00:30:00.000-04:002016-05-04T00:30:12.149-04:00May the Fourth Be With You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAJ1aO_CuxipP-ruAyWrOogymGvKE4inVZMkKQ9T01LTTmm5zYOnB1NzOFaEnt8Ee-nM1YuQqZQhh2PMCDDQhkhbeVCZgcgWWFIb1xvtxN95ljoXKydCTQfkiQKmkzFxtMQBk9d7puYw/s1600/IMG_5240.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img alt="Dennis and Bettina greyhound BB8" border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBAJ1aO_CuxipP-ruAyWrOogymGvKE4inVZMkKQ9T01LTTmm5zYOnB1NzOFaEnt8Ee-nM1YuQqZQhh2PMCDDQhkhbeVCZgcgWWFIb1xvtxN95ljoXKydCTQfkiQKmkzFxtMQBk9d7puYw/s400/IMG_5240.jpg" title="Dennis and Bettina greyhound BB8" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Dennis and Bettina hope that the fourth is with you today.</div>
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Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-24229560247982325732016-04-06T18:30:00.000-04:002016-04-06T18:30:04.385-04:00The Dennis Chronicles<div class="MsoNormal">
We have a new family member!
Bettina and I adopted Dennis (Hallo Prospect) from Fast Friends on March
9<sup>th</sup>. 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.</div>
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I first met Dennis via a photograph on Facebook. I had just started following the page for
Fast <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAG7xsZHoKu69uSxIAsqz88PjDlhaOoz9XudKiiu3Trj4SigmAITUMrQ-li2fpGAd8aZ-vk2-lMbyVvgiFwDrT_BOaZxFxHE9I_WUQCYbFSTuxbcOCnQ-bOZpNgIMiK8oMYZzX27KPPAw/s1600/IMG_4561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Dennis with bunny ears" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAG7xsZHoKu69uSxIAsqz88PjDlhaOoz9XudKiiu3Trj4SigmAITUMrQ-li2fpGAd8aZ-vk2-lMbyVvgiFwDrT_BOaZxFxHE9I_WUQCYbFSTuxbcOCnQ-bOZpNgIMiK8oMYZzX27KPPAw/s400/IMG_4561.jpg" title="Dennis with bunny ears" width="313" /></a></div>
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).
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMLQrZ7CyacklsJMpeWJJwDKn76P6__jEw_OqLLxl1JrZ9Qjo9eAU1dzLnOpPpF5ywFuWSplA9Ll8xhCv2JdXkPVRm6e5DNI9FCGNKhlyeQekByCSJq8gI3Sif_4ZHEV7zUv-MBpQWys/s1600/IMG_4686.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Dennis greyhound" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMLQrZ7CyacklsJMpeWJJwDKn76P6__jEw_OqLLxl1JrZ9Qjo9eAU1dzLnOpPpF5ywFuWSplA9Ll8xhCv2JdXkPVRm6e5DNI9FCGNKhlyeQekByCSJq8gI3Sif_4ZHEV7zUv-MBpQWys/s400/IMG_4686.jpg" title="Dennis greyhound" width="361" /></a></div>
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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.”<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQ75q05xJfJ0er50TPAcSQcS4gfHrOuha9ipaFppkWlPh1y9UlQdq-Q4oONOcS5rZJ_Slm3wVnMrMebKxUEwIo3YvvDGBPecm8nb2H3tMCpfEe0x5XbETNF92lW3R-Oo_-M1W15eZnI4/s1600/DSCN0062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Dennis naps on the couch" border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQ75q05xJfJ0er50TPAcSQcS4gfHrOuha9ipaFppkWlPh1y9UlQdq-Q4oONOcS5rZJ_Slm3wVnMrMebKxUEwIo3YvvDGBPecm8nb2H3tMCpfEe0x5XbETNF92lW3R-Oo_-M1W15eZnI4/s400/DSCN0062.jpg" title="Dennis naps on the couch" width="400" /></a></div>
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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.</div>
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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:</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 36.0pt; line-height: 115%;">RULES FOR A NEW GREYHOUND<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">1. Make no judgments until 2 weeks in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2. Do not put pressure on yourself or on the dog
to make some sort of instant love connection.
Relationships take time to build.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">3. Your job initially is to keep the dog safe,
healthy and teach them how to live a retired life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">4. Keep telling yourself-they know essentially
nothing about life in a home. Don’t
expect it of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">5. Trust also takes time to build. Do not expect it right away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">7. If the dog does not like yogurt, or olive
oil, or omega oils this is not the end of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">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.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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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.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibl1TtUFXFM4wc9OmetHeqGPKj20rMc34LVPbslneSaDfLP-2-crBjlZe1sdU95It7tJzvLgCEntmrEneEsIHyrlpKbzkGZSUCQpDWpWY5XAr42BHny9ckZCM3-9Xhqbv5TZ2E1Io0h4U/s1600/DSCN0199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Dennis and Bettina greyhound at Grammy's" border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibl1TtUFXFM4wc9OmetHeqGPKj20rMc34LVPbslneSaDfLP-2-crBjlZe1sdU95It7tJzvLgCEntmrEneEsIHyrlpKbzkGZSUCQpDWpWY5XAr42BHny9ckZCM3-9Xhqbv5TZ2E1Io0h4U/s400/DSCN0199.jpg" title="Dennis and Bettina greyhound at Grammy's" width="400" /></a></div>
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. </div>
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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 <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nogPV2eVMeBKUyDHNdRYOLNxqaUP94X19JznPxwaPdGu4pPekoq9FfifYwT3UeaJFaR7fjJbKGxoBR2COrDZ0HNo40DA6XmQC0lSZcX-x_HBLuv8s_Zgz4_ghvYJsB1DFoGoRHBAb0Y/s1600/IMG_4693.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Dennis gives Grammy a hairy eyeball" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1nogPV2eVMeBKUyDHNdRYOLNxqaUP94X19JznPxwaPdGu4pPekoq9FfifYwT3UeaJFaR7fjJbKGxoBR2COrDZ0HNo40DA6XmQC0lSZcX-x_HBLuv8s_Zgz4_ghvYJsB1DFoGoRHBAb0Y/s400/IMG_4693.jpg" title="Dennis gives Grammy a hairy eyeball" width="346" /></a></div>
time. </div>
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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! </div>
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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.</div>
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Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-8749150898260364942016-01-18T17:45:00.000-05:002016-01-18T17:45:28.553-05:00My Grosse Liebe (My Big Love)<div class="MsoNormal">
My Big Poppy, my sweet boy, my grosse liebe has crossed the bridge
on January 16th. I’d love to be more
eloquent in delivering this news but honestly I’m not sure I’ll be able to get
through typing this. This turn of events
was so unexpected that I’m still in shock.
I’m numb. But unfortunately not
numb enough because I feel the incredible pain that his departure has caused.</div>
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I know that some of you may be thinking, geez he was 12
years old. Your time with him was
short. And I agree. Every day I had with him was a gift and I
knew that. But I had managed to convince
myself that he would not leave me until after his 14<sup>th</sup>
birthday. And up until Saturday morning,
his issues were very run of the mill. At least they had seemed that way.</div>
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He had turned up with a small bruise on the inside of his
thigh Monday evening. I hadn’t seen any
event that would have led to such a bruise, but it certainly happens that they
fall, or play a little rough and someone has an unexplained boo-boo. The next day the bruise had spread, and the
day after that as well. But by Thursday
it had begun to heal up. It was all
going exactly according to my prior experience with greyhounds and bruises.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAjLcKwL7R73YlAgimwiIwTamR1SjiZ75fUWS4BIhK0RYhuO50bcvqLvT68TfPh7XMwKx3PGD4mP7Vx-fEzNw9cqKsk1R2n1AL-3aXpGZjPrwYSdX8xU9y7C3zvUmOf3V3aXH2Pd_IaE/s1600/12469446_1119890674697383_6369860511057107807_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue the Gentleman Greyhound" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSAjLcKwL7R73YlAgimwiIwTamR1SjiZ75fUWS4BIhK0RYhuO50bcvqLvT68TfPh7XMwKx3PGD4mP7Vx-fEzNw9cqKsk1R2n1AL-3aXpGZjPrwYSdX8xU9y7C3zvUmOf3V3aXH2Pd_IaE/s400/12469446_1119890674697383_6369860511057107807_o.jpg" title="Blue the Gentleman Greyhound" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Bille Axell, Axell Photography</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I did notice it was still fairly swollen but assumed that
was part of the healing process. Friday
it still looked to be healing. Saturday
morning he went outside and came back in OK.
He was eager for, and ate his breakfast.
Right after that I noticed he was limping and having real difficulty lying
down. I went over and checked his leg
and it was swollen more than the previous day.<br />
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I called Dr. Amy and soon we were on our way to see
her. By the time we reached her office,
his leg had swollen further and an ugly purple bruise covered the inside of his
leg. Dr. Amy did x-rays and blood
tests. Her news was not good. It appeared to be hemangiosarcoma. She had seen it before and it had presented
just like this. But to be sure, she
wanted to send us to a vet hospital further south where they had experts to
evaluate it.</div>
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I headed south. My
poor baby tried to be stoic but I could hear him crying in the back and it was
killing me. Given we were in the midst of a snowstorm I could
not go any more than 45 miles per hour and I have never felt more helpless in
my life. We finally got there and Blue
wasn’t able to get out of the car. His
entire leg was swollen up and extremely bruised. They got him situated and eventually came to
talk to me.</div>
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Their opinion was hemangiosarcoma, osteosarcoma or possibly
a blood clot. Of the 3 only the blood
clot was potentially survivable but given the fact they could not get a pulse
in the damaged leg and it had been that way for so long, he would most likely
be facing amputation regardless of the eventual diagnosis. And to properly diagnose it they would have
to conduct more blood tests and a series of pelvic x-rays that, given his
state, would have been very painful for him.
After the tests, they would have wanted to keep him onsite on IV pain
medication pending a consult with an internist on Monday. </div>
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My big baby boy was just that, a big baby. He was very squeamish and he did not deal
with pain very well. I had made him a
promise when we had lost the fight for Girly Girl’s life that if it ever came
to that with him, I would not put him through it. Such an easy promise to make when you <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFGUcjESjDZK_vbV3vz2DlBCpx9YqUdukVQbP43gYJ0AqDJ0-QA7Q9hRWliKc1-52skEtI253pWvr4hVuWBh-gMlRNbjkMyCiAX5Fj7mljtlG2xJ583a_ECaSXiGSkliZMyZGVBnReWI/s1600/IMG_3100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Blue greyhound at Hound-O-Ween" border="0" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFGUcjESjDZK_vbV3vz2DlBCpx9YqUdukVQbP43gYJ0AqDJ0-QA7Q9hRWliKc1-52skEtI253pWvr4hVuWBh-gMlRNbjkMyCiAX5Fj7mljtlG2xJ583a_ECaSXiGSkliZMyZGVBnReWI/s400/IMG_3100.jpg" title="Blue greyhound at Hound-O-Ween" width="400" /></a></div>
aren’t
actually facing that situation. I spent
a good deal of time going back and forth trying to decide what to do. The vet we were seeing was very kind but
refused to give me any percentages on outcomes and wouldn’t even give me her
opinion on “what she would do.” That
probably wasn’t a fair question to ask her.
But I was so lost sitting in that sterile room trying to decide life or
death for a soul that meant the entire world to me. My heart wanted to do everything possible to
keep him longer. </div>
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I finally asked if they would bring him in so I could sit
with him for awhile. I hoped that I’d
see some clear sign in his eyes. I had
hoped for that with Girly Girl as well.
People always say that you’ll know when it’s time. But so far I have not had a clear message on
that score for either Blue or Girly Girl.
Most of you reading this will have been in my shoes at some point in the
past. So you know that there is truly
nothing more terrible than trying to make a life or death decision for someone
who cannot express their wishes. Who has
no say and only relies on you to make the right decision. It is a terrible awesome responsibility.</div>
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I kept going back to three things. He was 12 years old. We had had a great run and by greyhound
standards he had lived a good long life.
I had promised him I would not make him suffer any more than absolutely
necessary, even if that meant I had to let him go. And a dear friend who had just gone through
this same tragedy with her greyhound told me that her guiding principle was: it
was better to do this thing a day too soon than a day too late. In other words, no extra suffering just for
your selfish wishes to keep them with you as long as possible.</div>
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So I called the vet back in and told her it was time to let
me baby go. I had sat with him in my
arms while trying to make this final decision and I stayed there with him in my
arms while they prepared everything. I
told him over and over again how much he meant to me. Thanked him for making my life so much
brighter. Reassured him that Girly Girl
would be waiting for him and that he’d run again with no pain. I told him Mumma and Bettina would be all
right. And when it was time, he would
come and meet us. He went out of this
world with Mumma telling him how much she loved him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QBE-FZ9Io-v8ohB_n_17Ab4I6gsIw63oo4RJPO65D1jVsqtMbZfMpBBLyWNZtBwsRL8jvgKvjr5gnRKXgT270ovMikvP6zV_bT97bbFQzCHabmWZnClouah4kuax7uC9ff6Qp8Ds6VM/s1600/IMG_9895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Blue greyhound at Auntie Carol's" border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3QBE-FZ9Io-v8ohB_n_17Ab4I6gsIw63oo4RJPO65D1jVsqtMbZfMpBBLyWNZtBwsRL8jvgKvjr5gnRKXgT270ovMikvP6zV_bT97bbFQzCHabmWZnClouah4kuax7uC9ff6Qp8Ds6VM/s400/IMG_9895.jpg" title="Blue greyhound at Auntie Carol's" width="400" /></a></div>
Blue was an old soul.
A friend called him a gentleman greyhound. He was very much that. I am already missing his gentle good morning
wake up (always an hour too early but he did have a snooze button). I miss our special cuddle times on the couch
on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I miss
seeing him lying on his big boy bed with his man pillow and his cozy blankets. I miss the cheer-leading him up the stairs when he
struggled to come up due to pain in his back end. I miss mushing up his peas so he could eat
them with all his missing teeth. I miss
having to slightly cook his chicken livers because he couldn’t stand the
texture of raw ones. I miss him standing
at his food dish at suppertime and chirping at me to urge me to hurry it
along. I miss him staring at me intently
with his ears straight up, trying to tell me some important thing. Mumma’s head was always too thick to receive
the message. Blue had more friends than
I ever have had or ever will have. He
was responsible for a number of greyhound adoptions among our friends. I know that all greyhounds are special, but
there was something about his manner that made him stand out among a field of
stand outs. </div>
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At this point, with the waves of sorrow and pain coming
every few minutes, I don’t know if I’ll bring another hound home. I told Blue we would do so in order to honor
his memory. I’m sure in a month or 6
months or a year when the pain is a dull ache and the waves are more spread
out, I’ll feel differently. At least I
hope so. There will never be another
Blue. But he made such a difference in
so many lives while he was here. If ever
a hound earned his wings, Blue has.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDAYE6Z9i-ma_Q0VO9ea5MEn6kGECZSgxPEec6MfFKERdfMl6hjNXyrMnN4MOn44iw-xOqPpnZU5gje_rajzD61ljdsJ1EVRxo52MRQ6GV2NIkPdoIa7hZS3N5IWWmm3eyAfat13ASJM/s1600/IMG_0296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue greyhound asleep" border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEDAYE6Z9i-ma_Q0VO9ea5MEn6kGECZSgxPEec6MfFKERdfMl6hjNXyrMnN4MOn44iw-xOqPpnZU5gje_rajzD61ljdsJ1EVRxo52MRQ6GV2NIkPdoIa7hZS3N5IWWmm3eyAfat13ASJM/s400/IMG_0296.jpg" title="Blue greyhound asleep" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sleep softly sweet prince. Royal Bluejay (Blue) 12/10/2003-1/16/2016</span></td></tr>
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Post Script: I hope all of our friends will forgive us for letting you know this news via this channel. It was hard for Mumma to type this at all let alone type it many times in various emails. </div>
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Post Post Script: Grammy
had a visit in a dream on Saturday night (the first night without Blue). She was visited by Blue, Girly Girl, Fox and
Bea (Blue’s littermate and beloved of Joe Shuster). They were running together in a big field of
tall grass. They were all young and
sleek and running with sheer joy. Blue
stopped and came back to the bridge, as though unsure which side he belonged
on. Fox, Girly Girl and Bea lay down to
wait for him. Then Grammy woke up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-396588697765175952015-12-25T06:00:00.000-05:002015-12-25T06:00:09.130-05:00Let's Face It Mumma, You Can't Get a Present Better Than Us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnmhJNf_iyHIJ-mt4NgM-RzJpY9nTva_UGyg2HfU89IMPj6gtkk11NSqnL-_TkfNdeQ7LafBbWnC5B49V7zlAtp3agYXqm33V3DMB4YnDkKFzLglX8M7nj89Go67FeoYVRFKQBql78lY/s1600/IMG_3239lighter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Blue and Bettina Greyhound with the red bow" border="0" height="340" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOnmhJNf_iyHIJ-mt4NgM-RzJpY9nTva_UGyg2HfU89IMPj6gtkk11NSqnL-_TkfNdeQ7LafBbWnC5B49V7zlAtp3agYXqm33V3DMB4YnDkKFzLglX8M7nj89Go67FeoYVRFKQBql78lY/s400/IMG_3239lighter.jpg" title="Blue and Bettina Greyhound with the red bow" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-8146984747757327832015-12-24T15:00:00.000-05:002015-12-24T15:00:06.504-05:00Happy Holidays to All Our Friends, Family and Readers!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4qRIE3CgCZmfhM0hU4w1dbQr11hDqLaVPfq5k6HFpgooo8mvTMMy4vabZU8DTgaqq07HL5lqdy137A6IyNFJspoLZfQl_3rI-7n3sr6hyLW-WmScxxtuv2E8pAXfWhrKub7ZpeJcZ_o/s1600/IMG_3155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Blue and Bettina Greyhound with holiday headbands" border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf4qRIE3CgCZmfhM0hU4w1dbQr11hDqLaVPfq5k6HFpgooo8mvTMMy4vabZU8DTgaqq07HL5lqdy137A6IyNFJspoLZfQl_3rI-7n3sr6hyLW-WmScxxtuv2E8pAXfWhrKub7ZpeJcZ_o/s400/IMG_3155.jpg" title="Blue and Bettina Greyhound with holiday headbands" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-71043272407811964012015-12-01T00:00:00.000-05:002015-12-01T00:00:04.087-05:00Keep Your Good Wishes Just Gimme the Presents<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBYGbwP8HfYgQiaSWTFZgLdygqfEh-WT93E597z2eh_oQVJKheo-yjNV8NLb8k_5UL0C6PCyLKivtrUwLB6NycZ-qQef9kQH2l2VsS6KZrWLQjJv-8DD3NkCd863PfV-6iSdG453aqBw/s1600/Happy+Holidays+From+B%2526B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Happy Holidays from Blue and Bettina greyhound" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglBYGbwP8HfYgQiaSWTFZgLdygqfEh-WT93E597z2eh_oQVJKheo-yjNV8NLb8k_5UL0C6PCyLKivtrUwLB6NycZ-qQef9kQH2l2VsS6KZrWLQjJv-8DD3NkCd863PfV-6iSdG453aqBw/s400/Happy+Holidays+From+B%2526B.jpg" title="Happy Holidays from Blue and Bettina greyhound" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-67258993076463970422015-10-20T18:00:00.000-04:002015-10-20T18:00:00.818-04:00The Milestones Keep ComingIt's hard to believe that EIGHT years ago today I went to Maine Greyhound Placement Services and met this breathtaking 4 year old greyhound. He was white with two gray patches over his ears. At that time one of the gray patches also covered most of his eye though these days it has faded to white except on his ears. This greyhound was a serious handful but I was so taken with his beauty that it didn't matter. I chose him. He was strong and had no leash manners. Heck he had no manners of any kind. Early on he seriously injured my rotator cuff when he decided to take off after a leave or a bag or something interesting to him but unseen by me. He was always doing stuff like that. He never listened. Anyone who knows him now never believes the stories of his early days. <br />
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What I didn't understand about Blue then was that despite his rowdy behavior, he was a very gentle and sensitive boy. He had the misfortune of coming into a home that already contained a small brindle heart dog. He got a bit short changed in that respect as Girly Girl shone very brightly in Mumma's eyes. Being the sensitive boy that he is, I think he felt the role of second fiddle that I had cast him in.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOtFyUFrD1QckLxY4IRSjSjX5HlD2sVMGBtqs9DfREQXQf5Z4Jj7JL-Fdc8p4gitWe0Ao87kQKNVljWbBXlLCXGlQXs3Dw-vu5QLLRT-WqccxGnbZVnN6_2v5bqXEAnPeuofTj_0HXNU/s1600/File140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Big Poppy wants a cookie" border="0" height="391" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOtFyUFrD1QckLxY4IRSjSjX5HlD2sVMGBtqs9DfREQXQf5Z4Jj7JL-Fdc8p4gitWe0Ao87kQKNVljWbBXlLCXGlQXs3Dw-vu5QLLRT-WqccxGnbZVnN6_2v5bqXEAnPeuofTj_0HXNU/s400/File140.jpg" title="Big Poppy wants a cookie" width="400" /></a></div>
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Because of this difficult start it took us a long time to build a strong relationship. For most of the time that Girly Girl was alive, I had the distinct impression that Blue, while happy enough with me, would be just as happy with anyone. That has changed with 8 years of cohabitation. He's my big Poppy, my Buggy Boy. I can't imagine life without him in it and I think that he has come round to loving his Mumma as much as she loves him. <br />
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I still think he's breathtaking. I have had the amazing privilege of watching him become a handsome old man. He still has flashes of the silly goofy boy he was in his salad days. He never met a blanket or a bed that he didn't like. He has a fondness for body pillows. He's lost a fair number of teeth but we've made accommodations for that. Since he can no longer easily pick up his beloved sweet peas (they keep falling out of all the gaps) we now mash them up into a thick sweet pea slurry that he can eat over his dinner.<br />
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I truly can't believe we've had 8 years together already. Blue manages to charm everyone he ever meets. His requests for attention and his greyhound lean are legendary. There is a long list of people who would be happy to take Blue "off my hands" if I ever wanted to give him up. That list started on the day after I got him with his first vet and is now longer than I can keep track of. But Mumma will never be taking anyone up on their offer. <br />
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Happy Gotcha Day Royal Bluejay. There will always be a big boy bed and a man cave for you here.<br />
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<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-51816533861887214212015-10-12T18:00:00.000-04:002015-10-12T18:00:00.321-04:00It Never Really HealsI started off typing a big long entry about how much I still miss Girly Girl and how much it still hurts that she is gone. But the more I typed, the more depressed I got. I don't want that to be her legacy. Because in reality she was an amazing greyhound who changed my life for the better in countless ways. So I will leave it at this:<br />
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<span style="background: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">“Perhaps ...<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">To R.A.L.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And I shall see that still the skies are blue,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And feel once more I do not live in vain,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Although bereft of you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Though You have passed away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And crimson roses once again be fair,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Although You are not there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">But though kind Time may many joys renew,</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">There is one greatest joy I shall not know</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Again, because my heart for loss of You</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">Was broken, long ago.”<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background: white;">―<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/213527.Vera_Brittain"><span style="background: white; color: #666600; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%; text-decoration: none;">Vera
Brittain</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i><span id="quote_book_link_374388"><span style="color: #666600; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/364275">Testament of Youth</a></span></span></i></span><i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0UBUaCwzPrtFPOxDkYygbCApUSo6rat5OH4zGs4lJ6QjdK5YQZTJ4p2k_mFM13z80B4-AM4PdibjAxA-NdFtwnekdzY0-ewUiUyfCNWnxgqiMPsIY_SV5IKth1WR81MWovGR6U5aD_c/s1600/IMG_6236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My heart" border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim0UBUaCwzPrtFPOxDkYygbCApUSo6rat5OH4zGs4lJ6QjdK5YQZTJ4p2k_mFM13z80B4-AM4PdibjAxA-NdFtwnekdzY0-ewUiUyfCNWnxgqiMPsIY_SV5IKth1WR81MWovGR6U5aD_c/s400/IMG_6236.JPG" title="My heart" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Girly Girl<br />February 15, 2003-October 12, 2010<br />Always Remembered<br /><br /><br /></span></td></tr>
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Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-23754635140950455242015-10-08T13:00:00.000-04:002015-10-08T13:00:00.139-04:00Who Would Have Thunk It?Seven years ago today a tiny black dog came squirming into the world. I didn't know her back then but I have no doubt that she immediately started bossing around her littermates and making countless demands of her poor exhausted mother. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMdWlj6I9CPLxkew5clNpqGT2GBReqc1x1MOQ8hkGD5zAp5hq-cENeuwlEnyIQ7RPiXQBcrfjuDz0XvV9nDqDT-dt8t8YIb8yf1oQ0wiQ-KynvkS1AxRliC2P1Immcf-5R7Ks2djnus4/s1600/IMG_9985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina Greyhound hairy eyeball" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMdWlj6I9CPLxkew5clNpqGT2GBReqc1x1MOQ8hkGD5zAp5hq-cENeuwlEnyIQ7RPiXQBcrfjuDz0XvV9nDqDT-dt8t8YIb8yf1oQ0wiQ-KynvkS1AxRliC2P1Immcf-5R7Ks2djnus4/s320/IMG_9985.jpg" title="Bettina Greyhound hairy eyeball" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hairy eyeball (and the drippy nose)</td></tr>
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As she grew, she underwent the same training as all the other greyhounds in hopes of preparing her to race. As usual, Bettina had her own ideas about what lay ahead for her. She was sent out into the world for her maiden race and she didn't get much farther than that when they decided to close down her track. I'm not saying that her arrival was the cause of the closing of the track, but we don't really know now, do we?<br />
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They opted not to ship her to any other tracks. That's a decision that I have pondered for a long time. At first I figured that she just must not have been very fast. Except she IS pretty fast. I have a sneaking suspicion that it has to do with her sassiness and her tendency to play a little dirty. I've watched her hip check her brother on numerous occasions if he was on the verge of overtaking her. <br />
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I can also envision her spending her 20 hours a day in her crate making an unholy racket at the indignity of having to be in a crate at all. She was known as "Crazy Mo" in the rescue kennel (a fact that absolutely no one disclosed to me until she was safely in my home for almost a year). That was because it routinely took 2 or more volunteers to wrestle her back into her crate once she had been liberated. Nobody puts Baby in a corner (or a crate).</div>
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She met me at a time when my heart was so broken I didn't know if I'd ever feel good again. I'd lost Girly Girl. The world was way less shiny. And I didn't think I would be able to adopt another greyhound because I'd spend the rest of our time together unfairly comparing her to Girly Girl and<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jOX49M7829aBvgWhltt0BbvS3ma52zRrKTQQGOncILSzvhgk9p6Qp39sXuAe7PEan2xsoL6rftjSYoNuyFdjQSOiTf6P_p4uOSUPhBtRvgQ4wYU-cMxlU5ZFUlfKX5wQB_0gg6RsPQo/s1600/IMG_9020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><img alt="In Mummas spot on the couch" border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jOX49M7829aBvgWhltt0BbvS3ma52zRrKTQQGOncILSzvhgk9p6Qp39sXuAe7PEan2xsoL6rftjSYoNuyFdjQSOiTf6P_p4uOSUPhBtRvgQ4wYU-cMxlU5ZFUlfKX5wQB_0gg6RsPQo/s320/IMG_9020.jpg" title="In Mummas spot on the couch" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Mumma's spot on the couch.</td></tr>
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finding that she came up woefully short. Bettina, of course, had her own mind on the subject. She saw a gravy train and by god she was getting on it.<br />
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So at the ripe old age of 2, and after 6 months in the rescue kennel, the cheeky, bossy hound that is Bettina wormed her way into our household and my heart. Now after almost 5 years together, I can't imagine life without her. I've watched her go from a sleek black dog to a greying middle aged hound (she actually started turning grey about 3 days after she came home with me, so we've been watching the grey thing for a long time now). She's lost none of her sassiness. About the only thing that Bettina compromised on was the crate. Occasionally she'll go in one voluntarily but she does expect to be rewarded handsomely for it.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday to you my tiny biscuit. You're Mumma's diamond in the rough. Polish though I might, you've remained as sassy as ever. I am looking forward to the rest of our adventures together and to watching you grow into a bossy old lady.<br />
<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-7451009206041895882015-09-06T18:43:00.000-04:002015-09-06T18:43:25.691-04:00When You See It Coming<div class="MsoNormal">
Sharing your life with greyhounds is hard. I suppose sharing your life with any canine
is hard, but when it’s greyhounds, it is more so. When you have a dog, and it stops eating or
it starts limping, you don’t automatically think stomach cancer or osteosarcoma. But with a greyhound, you do. Why?
Because the odds are high that a limping greyhound has osteosarcoma. Or one that isn’t eating has stomach cancer
or some other equally nasty health issue that will limit lifespan.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZVssLsVHsplNWdJLtG_8PIsM5YWwXIV2tYTN0CTntlIhgf6FnjKvYM5_VCZ65LXujP8JEn82VlxFtWgL_ws1FW8cchAv6ZjTslSRQH1O9VqbTUiEqtaTYnpt-8DS5PVD5-PQ_h9oOeo/s1600/IMG_6301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Vinnie the greyhound" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ZVssLsVHsplNWdJLtG_8PIsM5YWwXIV2tYTN0CTntlIhgf6FnjKvYM5_VCZ65LXujP8JEn82VlxFtWgL_ws1FW8cchAv6ZjTslSRQH1O9VqbTUiEqtaTYnpt-8DS5PVD5-PQ_h9oOeo/s400/IMG_6301.jpg" title="Vinnie the greyhound" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handsome Vinnie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you have a greyhound that reaches age 10 or more, the
odds go up astronomically that a health issue that might not seem so dire in
other dogs means something very bad for yours.
We have dear friends who have an older greyhound and they are facing
these odds now. It hits home for me
because their hound, Vinnie is so similar to Blue its scary. They’re the same size; they both have all
sorts of odd lumps and bumps. They’re
both white with some patches of color and adorable spots.
As they’ve aged, their color has faded to the point where sometimes you
mistake them for each other in photos.
And they’re both about the same age (Vinnie is about a year older than
Blue).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vinnie has recently started to display clear signs of pain
and he’s off and on with his eating.
Now, mind you, Vinnie has always been a bit of a finicky eater (at least
since we’ve known him). And he had a
hock fracture that ended his racing career which has always caused him some
pain, especially when he has been standing for awhile. But recently he has been having a lot of
difficulty with his hind end. Standing
is difficult. Going up and down the few
stairs to his backyard has sometimes required assistance from his Mum and Dad. Getting on and off the couch (his favorite
place in the world, and it is HIS couch) has been a struggle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vinnie has been to the vets and at the moment, the diagnosis
is that he does NOT have osteosarcoma </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ANK2Gj8Ce4RbV1Ft17XznnuwmSa9wAznsCTBcFeGAG3fu4fFh58FGBYzHT3G_s-tjByW3XePZ6PXUhm-PZ3ilXRmQEtCMHfSMbyg1aNdiZNRdJRb6FbY6tjnVgM47Mv7khwjuZvwEHY/s1600/IMG_8295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Vinnie is very sculptural" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ANK2Gj8Ce4RbV1Ft17XznnuwmSa9wAznsCTBcFeGAG3fu4fFh58FGBYzHT3G_s-tjByW3XePZ6PXUhm-PZ3ilXRmQEtCMHfSMbyg1aNdiZNRdJRb6FbY6tjnVgM47Mv7khwjuZvwEHY/s400/IMG_8295.jpg" title="Vinnie is very sculptural" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vinnie is more art than greyhound</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
but the fact that he isn’t eating so much
is concerning. They sent him home from
his last visit with special canned food that seems to be of interest to him. He has pain meds which seem to be helping
him. But we hear from Vinnie’s Mum that
it’s a step forward and a couple steps back.
Everyone who loves him is trying not to think the worst.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But of course, when you have a greyhound that is exactly
what you do. After reading Pat’s email of a couple days ago I have been thinking about Girly Girl, and the fact that Blue is
Vinnie’s age and has hind end problems of his own. And that Vinnie’s brother and sister both
passed of cancer (Emma with osteo and Jim with stomach cancer). And that Blue’s littermate sister Bea passed
from osteo and his half brother Fox suffered terrible medical problems before
we had to let go of him in January.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A greyhound reaching age 10 has beaten many odds. With Blue turning 12 in December and Vinnie
either at or on his way to 13, both have dodged many a proverbial bullet. But how many times can you cower under a
table while the dropping bombs land on other people? How long before that bomb with your name on
it rains down?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I told Vinnie’s Mum, the ONLY thing that is good about
seeing it coming is that you have time to say all the things you want and need
to say. Girly Girl and I had many a deep
conversation and I believe that she understood.
If not the words, then at least the sentiment behind them. When she left I felt like she knew she was
loved beyond reason and would be missed forever. Blue and I have been having similar
conversations of late because I hear the bombs dropping all around us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realize it’s a zero sum game. No one gets out alive. But does it have to be now? Can’t it be next year? Or the one after? We are sending every last ounce of positive
energy we have to Vinnie and his family.
If you have any you can spare, please consider sending out some positive
thoughts for them as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-15300623350624787302015-05-06T00:00:00.000-04:002015-05-06T00:00:02.263-04:00Wordless Wednesday - Grass is Greener<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcFcxS3lf9lxLrXoRITidx82vu3hS50NeucPSN-mE7tOITK1iPgbjydMI6PKEQnvQ-7BBqdI8XiTcY2MUAXgOd_hL-eBvAho-Pr2z7BeD8K-xPw8ZXK6mWa40E4T5BTdKMQ15VJ2dA370/s1600/IMG_9896.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Blue greyhound looks out the window" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcFcxS3lf9lxLrXoRITidx82vu3hS50NeucPSN-mE7tOITK1iPgbjydMI6PKEQnvQ-7BBqdI8XiTcY2MUAXgOd_hL-eBvAho-Pr2z7BeD8K-xPw8ZXK6mWa40E4T5BTdKMQ15VJ2dA370/s1600/IMG_9896.jpg" height="247" title="Blue greyhound looks out the window" width="400" /></a></div>
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Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-29109011147993128332015-03-04T18:00:00.000-05:002015-03-04T18:16:20.604-05:00Memorial Redux<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t think it’s any secret that my heart was completely
shattered when I lost my heart dog Girly Girl.
I’m always moaning in this blog about how much I miss her and how I
still think of her all the time almost 5 years after she passed. A once in a lifetime dog is just that. And some people are lucky to realize they had
a heart dog years down the line after they’ve compared that relationship to all
the subsequent ones. But some of us are
unlucky/lucky enough to know it the second you meet that hound. When you know what you had, and what you’ve
lost one can’t help being a little bitter at times.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUCu9LWGmvPUm2DSILeL2k3GpQkNTXlNP93tOwtd_bt1A55ZRHVE6YWQACx5C9DZRgmY_zwN7ikdWiRmCI-WLLncVmw_YvHZ77lTRVNO7-c9bPw7J6OwY9w23p4u7L7EvQXAbLErcHAM/s1600/girly_girl_angel_grey_round_ornament_round.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Girly Girl Greyhound Angel Ornament" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtUCu9LWGmvPUm2DSILeL2k3GpQkNTXlNP93tOwtd_bt1A55ZRHVE6YWQACx5C9DZRgmY_zwN7ikdWiRmCI-WLLncVmw_YvHZ77lTRVNO7-c9bPw7J6OwY9w23p4u7L7EvQXAbLErcHAM/s1600/girly_girl_angel_grey_round_ornament_round.jpg" height="400" title="Girly Girl Greyhound Angel Ornament" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have reminders of Girly Girl all over the house. A portrait of her that Grammy commissioned the
Christmas after she left us, a quilt square with a photo of her made by a
greyhound friend and sent out of the blue like a little package of
sunshine. We have photos of GG all
over. And a cast of her paw print. I have a mug made with her paw print that
always sits on the window ledge in my kitchen.
There will be no drinking from that cup.
And we have the memorial that the folks who cremated her gave us when we
went to pick up her ashes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So you’d think we wouldn’t need anything else. But one day, while reading Hazel’s blog
(Class A Greyhounds-RVing with the Big Dogs) we came across an entry called
<a href="http://hazelstravelinglife.blogspot.com/2014/11/memorial.html" target="_blank">Memorial</a>. Hazel had recently lost her
hound Fleur and she had discovered and ordered a beautiful ornament with an
angel greyhound with Fleur’s name underneath it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew that I had to have one for Girly Girl but Hazel hadn’t
posted where she found it at the time I read the entry. Being a pretty good Google detective, I was
able to track down where the ornament had come from. A lovely lady named Therese makes them. She has a Café Press store called <a href="http://www.cafepress.com/heismansghart/" target="_blank">Heisman’sGreyhound Art. </a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Therese has been creating these little works of art for some
time. She shared that she had lost her
heart dog back in 2007 and has lost 7 out of 9 greyhounds that have shared her
life since 2000. It’s very safe to say
she gets people like me. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxrJAKTN0WoSYR42784QllLXIy3MlqeO1sHzl5RbF4NDm5b2YKNjnZgV1hPfWitoTCm1El0Wt8qOFkW5leki17STR_kqHgmcbcGJmSE78rPHgok3rrM6186kQBmTWM0nOTPFYKE61OWo/s1600/fox_angel_grey_round_ornament_round.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Fox Greyhound Angel Ornament" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWxrJAKTN0WoSYR42784QllLXIy3MlqeO1sHzl5RbF4NDm5b2YKNjnZgV1hPfWitoTCm1El0Wt8qOFkW5leki17STR_kqHgmcbcGJmSE78rPHgok3rrM6186kQBmTWM0nOTPFYKE61OWo/s1600/fox_angel_grey_round_ornament_round.jpg" height="400" title="Fox Greyhound Angel Ornament" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I sent Therese the names I wanted on my ornaments (one for
Girly Girl and one for Fox whom we had just lost). She soon sent me links to the Café Press
pages where I could view and order the ornaments. For such a lovely keepsake, they are
ridiculously inexpensive at $6.99. I placed my order and shortly they arrived in
my mailbox.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t have been happier with them. I can’t decide whether I will hang Girly
Girls somewhere in the house so I can see it every day or if I will put it on
my dog themed Christmas tree. If you
have lost a hound (or more than one) this is a lovely way to memorialize them. Therese is a kind lady who would be glad to
make you one of your own. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
(I received no remuneration for this blog post. I ordered my ornaments after seeing one on
Hazel’s website. I get nothing if any of
you decide to order from Therese. I just
found these ornaments beautiful and wanted to share in case any of you feel the
same way I did when I saw it. I did get
Therese’s permission to write this post.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-48097498419811464292015-02-16T21:12:00.000-05:002015-02-16T21:12:07.330-05:00Brusha, Brusha Brusha, Each and Every Day<div class="MsoNormal">
Blue was scheduled for a dental recently. I typically don't get too worked up about them, but Blue is 11 years old and I had hoped he wouldn't have to go under anesthesia again. I know in my head that anesthesia is much safer than it used to be and that he was going to be in great hands with our vet, Dr. Amy. But somehow your heart and your gut never gets the message from your head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:45 Get up, brush teeth, brush hair, let the kids out to
potty.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:15 Take Blue and head to Topsham Veterinary Wellness Center.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:35 Post to Facebook from Dr. Amy’s parking lot that we’re
there and Blue’s adventure has begun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:37 Discover one of our Facebook friends (Nova Beaudry) is also
going in for a dental today. Begin a
discussion on how nervous we both are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaqfvsxw_6AqwpXT5KS6BacHOUikBfpK4I1wzYrkDj-WgaiZbjMEcMP6UtDIc1DEp7QEDCvMfOVCa1tRE3JHJnH2QCTTjZwX9MJY6pyGxI_1boBDXrt8ukBeEzur0jhA-fo1Qux67ZUY/s1600/IMG_6383+adj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue at the vet in recovery" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaqfvsxw_6AqwpXT5KS6BacHOUikBfpK4I1wzYrkDj-WgaiZbjMEcMP6UtDIc1DEp7QEDCvMfOVCa1tRE3JHJnH2QCTTjZwX9MJY6pyGxI_1boBDXrt8ukBeEzur0jhA-fo1Qux67ZUY/s1600/IMG_6383+adj.jpg" height="300" title="Blue at the vet in recovery" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Amy checks on Blue and his fellow patient in the recovery area.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:45 Leave Blue with Dr. Amy to have his teeth cleaned. We went through all the scary questions. What do we do if he has complications? Do you want us to save him? Etc. When your hound is 11 years old, those
questions take on a whole new meaning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8:15 Start haunting
Facebook for updates on the Topsham Veterinary Wellness Center page. I
know that they generally don’t have a lot of time during the day to post. But I do it anyway. It makes me feel a little better.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9:30 Bettina seems to be moping around without her big
brother here. Or maybe that’s just me
projecting. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9:45 Decide to help pass the time by stress eating. There goes a half a bag of Blue Diamond
almonds (toasted coconut flavor-super yummy).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9:53 Talk with Nova’s Mum on Facebook regarding how much we
miss our kids.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10:00 I look at the clock for the millionth time. Blue was the first one to go into “surgery”
today. There’s a good possibility that
he’s now knocked out and having his teeth cleaned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10:30 Check TVWC
Facebook page again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCErnR0I3bQvm9MqPDwyqca5xZp9n7rAa1gxtFCUCuADisTzgxcvq_68kmc9wxLYw7pe9DBA03gPAMQyjver2igLfqTJMa2IWWZsOymQHPoDfa2VmgdaJe9GHYV7qdGHbx0zlPhvUDiJ8/s1600/IMG_9025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue greyhound after dental" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCErnR0I3bQvm9MqPDwyqca5xZp9n7rAa1gxtFCUCuADisTzgxcvq_68kmc9wxLYw7pe9DBA03gPAMQyjver2igLfqTJMa2IWWZsOymQHPoDfa2VmgdaJe9GHYV7qdGHbx0zlPhvUDiJ8/s1600/IMG_9025.jpg" height="400" title="Blue greyhound after dental" width="335" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture actually makes him look better than he did.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10:39 Can stand it no
longer. We post to the TVWC page.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10:56 Wondering if
Blue’s procedure is done at this point.
Taking no news as good news approach.
Check the TVWC Facebook page again, just in case they posted something.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
11:24 Check the TVWC
Facebook page again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
11:30 Refresh the
TVWC Facebook page just in case I was missing something. I wasn’t.
Dr. Amy told me I could call to check on Blue after noon. That seems like forever away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:04 Check the TVWC Facebook page again. Surprise, no new posts. Decide it’s now “after” noon so I am going to
call and check in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:10 Spoke with Dr.
Amy. They are done with his dental and
he is just now waking up. Katie is
cuddling with him as he does so and they have him all covered with heating pads
to make sure he is warm. Dr. Amy said
that Blue’s mouth was “a mess” which doesn’t surprise me given how bad his
breath smelled. He lost 9 teeth in total
which were extracted. I think, once he
heals up and flushes the anesthesia out of his system, he’s going to feel much
better. I am relieved that he is done
and that everything went well. Now I
just have to wait until 4:15 when I can pick him up!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:14 Post a thank you on Facebook to Dr. Amy and her staff
for taking good care of Blue and making sure he had a friendly presence at his
side when he came out of anesthesia. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:19 Sent a tweet out with the good news. Took a deep breath.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:40 Missed Blue during lunch. Especially when I dressed up Bettina and sent
her out for her </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYugmtib8_s0Hkox3p_Z9O7Ngz2-VlAIrqo9y9DIrYOmv0PWRZlyNwNj54eRVHAcr1vnH1lkQidgER81ftYAcFACStna0PsH20QgUYLZzYqnIvTujji4F12lojRjcHLjWYHTMGQl-fPNE/s1600/IMG_9036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue the greyhound sits" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYugmtib8_s0Hkox3p_Z9O7Ngz2-VlAIrqo9y9DIrYOmv0PWRZlyNwNj54eRVHAcr1vnH1lkQidgER81ftYAcFACStna0PsH20QgUYLZzYqnIvTujji4F12lojRjcHLjWYHTMGQl-fPNE/s1600/IMG_9036.jpg" height="386" title="Blue the greyhound sits" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the 3rd time I've ever seen Blue sit in all the time he's been<br />with me. And it's the only time he was slow/stoned enough that I could<br />catch it on camera.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
break. I broke a Stella
& Chewy’s treat in half and only used one of the halves.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
12:45 Facebook chatted with Auntie Drena to update her on
Blue’s status.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2:19 Checked the clock to see if it’s time to go get Big
Poppy yet. It’s forever until 4:15.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3:27 Getting to 3:45 is killing me. Hate being 2/3 of a whole.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3:45 Head to Dr. Amy’s office to pick up Blue!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3:48 Get stuck behind a farm tractor with no clear way to
pass.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3:53 Finally hit a straight way so I can pass said tractor. What is a tractor doing out in the depths of winter anyhow?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4:15 Arrive at Dr. Amy’s office. I can hear Blue crying as soon as I hit the
door. When I get to the window I can see
him, stoned out of his mind, in one of their recovery crates. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4:20p I get the full rundown on the procedure. Blue has lost 9 teeth and he’s going to be
pretty sore because one of the teeth put up quite a fight. I get antibiotics and pain meds for Blue. I have a small stroke when it comes time to
pay the bill.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4:25p They bring Blue out to me. He’s walking like a drunk, he’s whining, he’s
got a pressure bandage on his right front leg where his IV was placed, he’s got
drool and blood all around his mouth and he looks like hell but one thing he’s
pretty clear about is that he wants to get out of that building.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
5:06p Make it home
with our patient and breathe another sigh of relief. We’re all together again and everyone is
fine. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-73874526740701967892015-02-02T17:57:00.000-05:002015-02-02T17:57:29.779-05:00How to Treat Separation Anxiety<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a second job.
It involves working in local Petcos and talking to people about Blue
Buffalo dog food. In my day job, I get
to work from home, so I spend all day, every day with the kids. But since I got the second job, I now have to
leave them for 4-5 hours a week. I know
everyone says you need to leave them alone at times or they’ll get separation
anxiety. The problem is they do pretty
well when I go out. I’m the one who has separation
anxiety.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXJCZ8l3_NhX4CP43VHD49MCkRRbwwYcLJ3PYCSmkIXY5EKJzvLbJ8M-j_s2EPzv8ATiUwYjz69yMQKsIprpufpac5kPudewdD-wstFTMctBaKGpLZx6XSL5uRsPrDglLUaZktmu-cic/s1600/IMG_4939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina and Blue from the web cam" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAXJCZ8l3_NhX4CP43VHD49MCkRRbwwYcLJ3PYCSmkIXY5EKJzvLbJ8M-j_s2EPzv8ATiUwYjz69yMQKsIprpufpac5kPudewdD-wstFTMctBaKGpLZx6XSL5uRsPrDglLUaZktmu-cic/s1600/IMG_4939.JPG" height="300" title="Bettina and Blue from the web cam" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bettina hanging out on the couch and Blue in his crate (web cam photo)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I figured the only way I would have any peace of mind would
be to somehow be in touch with them while I was at my “other” work. At first I would just call and talk on the
answering machine. That’s great if they
were missing me but it wasn’t really doing anything for my anxiety. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I asked for, and received, a web cam from Santa. I set it up and I was so pleased to be able
to see the kids I decided to get a second one.
The second camera has infrared so I can see the house in the dark
(although I do leave lights on for the kids if I’m going to out at night). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have gone along blissfully checking on my kids while I am
away from the house. I can see if they’re
just hanging out or where they’re laying.
I can see Bettina run back and forth to the back door to see if that
noise was me coming home. I can watch
Blue’s cute ears pop straight up when HE thinks that noise was me coming home. I can even take snapshots of them from afar
and save them to my phone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One day while at Petco, watching my dogs, I happened to show
the feed to one of the Petco employees. Being a fellow animal lover I figured she'd think it was funny, or cute. Instead she looked at me with an utterly horrified face and said, “YOU ARE
SPYING ON THEM!” I was taken a bit aback
as I had never considered it from that angle.
I was only considering my peace of mind.
Was I spying on them? Was I as crazy as she was making me feel?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2dIi9n4rzavLupgklxNDIDyn8qCOQr6qxAxk0nZ0l_KglNitZHiMSQJndggS_ByPa1h-xHy1t9Ayu66sTah3NQy4bcWXWtTYP3hSRZxGyuZE6CQS4UUwaGhx4uUBiwbarJwYAC09xBE/s1600/IMG_5206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina and Blue from the other web cam" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2dIi9n4rzavLupgklxNDIDyn8qCOQr6qxAxk0nZ0l_KglNitZHiMSQJndggS_ByPa1h-xHy1t9Ayu66sTah3NQy4bcWXWtTYP3hSRZxGyuZE6CQS4UUwaGhx4uUBiwbarJwYAC09xBE/s1600/IMG_5206.JPG" height="300" title="Bettina and Blue from the other web cam" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here they are from the other web cam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are my greyhounds entitled to some measure of privacy? They don’t give me any privacy. They accompany me everywhere I go, even into
the bathroom. One or both of them is always
somewhere they can keep a close eye on me.
There is nothing sacred when you have a greyhound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A web cam is an accepted training tool. Just watch the show Lucky Dog on CBS. That guy makes extensive use of web
cams. They are priceless when trying to
monitor and correct behavior.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked at her a little askance and said, “No I’m not.” I threw out all the reasons I could think of
that a web cam was a good idea. She
looked at me like I had a couple heads and begged to differ with me. I was spying on my dogs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I guess you win some and you lose some but I’m not shutting
off my web cameras. In fact, I’m
thinking of adding some in other parts of the house. I’ve read about some web cams that allow
2-way communication. Maybe one of those
next. But no way am I shutting them
off. It’s either that or they’re going
to have to crate me while I’m at Petco.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-17797443587057860992015-01-14T08:25:00.000-05:002015-01-14T08:25:08.329-05:00Wordless Wednesday - Hey Baby, Hows About a Little Snog?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwQdyz9JZEmKzqM5hkOa0WzbH3dq31HzgO1PgzaEp-FCn_klThlYVK0aMJ7gu0fRrLDwnnBajE2LEzKgirbTnycXXiW5XiAG_7i63orCbOb2r0XsPfz771X3Qwb-f8ifkivzSSDRl1zs/s1600/IMG_8573.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Crandall greyhound in his Christmas hat" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYwQdyz9JZEmKzqM5hkOa0WzbH3dq31HzgO1PgzaEp-FCn_klThlYVK0aMJ7gu0fRrLDwnnBajE2LEzKgirbTnycXXiW5XiAG_7i63orCbOb2r0XsPfz771X3Qwb-f8ifkivzSSDRl1zs/s1600/IMG_8573.jpg" height="400" title="Crandall greyhound in his Christmas hat" width="347" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-82536247650914399772015-01-05T12:39:00.000-05:002015-01-07T15:58:43.396-05:00The Dying Season<div class="MsoNormal">
I hate the winter.
For many, many reasons. I hate
snow. I hate to snow blow. I’m not a big fan of cold. It costs a fortune to heat your house through
a long Maine winter. I hate losing the
daylight. But most of all I hate it
because starting in late fall and going through to spring, it is the dying
season.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If anyone or anything is going to leave this world, it seems they most often do so within this window. Facebook
becomes one long memorial news feed. Greyhound
after greyhound after greyhound crosses the bridge. Sure some go at other times of the year, but
at THIS time of year it is an endless parade.
Girly Girl left me during this window.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yesterday Fox joined her at the bridge. He is another in the long parade that will go
during this</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUwIAutqQVwOsaJkqwQX-y1-IEnGJ4AdqXtyQF9D0WKjWhz6jXgXmal6I1cU8iI1BxK_b-LH2bqi_vz_KWyYiAV8adfcVdYcniIXXbqLOQL5CODwMYtJyBzElxahhSZguHVGlAQJBYOc/s1600/IMG_7129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Fox in his bed" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUwIAutqQVwOsaJkqwQX-y1-IEnGJ4AdqXtyQF9D0WKjWhz6jXgXmal6I1cU8iI1BxK_b-LH2bqi_vz_KWyYiAV8adfcVdYcniIXXbqLOQL5CODwMYtJyBzElxahhSZguHVGlAQJBYOc/s1600/IMG_7129.jpg" height="261" title="Fox in his bed" width="320" /></a></div>
dying season but to us he was special. Fox was Grammy and Charlie’s hound. If ever there was a dog who met the
definition of autistic, it was Fox. He
was stoic and patient. And
stubborn. He wanted to be loved but on
his own terms. You would never consider
Fox a cuddly dog. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fox is also Blue’s half-brother. They shared the same Dam. They both raced at Raynham in the same
kennel. Fox’s stubborn determination
kept him on the track for quite awhile and he was one of his Dam’s top winning
greyhounds. After he retired he went to
the Maine Greyhound Placement Service and there his stoicism was a
hindrance. Poor Fox lived in the kennel
at MGPS for a year. No one was
connecting with this amazing boy and he kept getting passed by. He had given up hope and even after a special
article was written about him in the MGPS newsletter, he remained in the
kennel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is, until Grammy and Charlie happened along looking for
their first greyhound. Once they heard
Fox’s story it did not matter that he was an autistic boy. They determined to give him a real home. There was much happiness in the kennel as
volunteers found out that Fox (whom they all called Foxy) was getting a forever
home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fox fit himself into our lives as though he’d always been
there. He wasn’t much for playing with
toys, but if ever there was a greyhound who loved him some dinner, it was
Fox. He lived for meal times and treat
times. As he got older, like most old
greys that I know, he began wearing little bits of his meals on his muzzle and
chin as if he were saving them for later.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGy7I2hUi7NJ4c17fj1q1xo2A2_xW3h7Ufgx69SxtlQjegtWpA5mbMi8fjxE8WKGoUFwslz8AbbozMzk2WKLg6QPjbJUD4mtdcQzqB6fwI69x9DY5eIU1AsZIoRPB8z5P7umyOusNwQwo/s1600/IMG_6424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Fox gets love from Grammy" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGy7I2hUi7NJ4c17fj1q1xo2A2_xW3h7Ufgx69SxtlQjegtWpA5mbMi8fjxE8WKGoUFwslz8AbbozMzk2WKLg6QPjbJUD4mtdcQzqB6fwI69x9DY5eIU1AsZIoRPB8z5P7umyOusNwQwo/s1600/IMG_6424.jpg" height="207" title="Fox gets love from Grammy" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even with his autism, Fox learned to seek out a connection
with the humans in his life. He would
wait patiently in the line of greyhounds seeking attention and then he would
present his side to you, carefully looking away and politely wait for you to
pet him, or scratch him or rub his belly or ears. He would stand there until your hands fell
off if you let him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fox had a funny chirp that he would use when he felt you
were not hopping to it quickly enough to get him dinner. It sounded just like a little bird. He would start out almost subsonic and
gradually raise the volume. When he
wanted to go out he would stand and face the front door. It didn’t matter that going out meant using
the sliding glass doors on the back side of the house. When he first arrived at Grammy’s outside was
through the front door and by god, that’s how it would always be for Fox. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fox never got on any furniture. It terrified him. We used to joke that the best way to persuade
Fox to go lay down if he was bugging you to pet him was to invite him up on the
couch with you. All it took was a quick “come
on buddy, get up here with me,” and he would get the whale eye and start
backing up and looking for an escape route.
Depending on how serious he thought you were he would retreat to his bed
in the living room, or for level 1 threats he would go all the way back to the
bedroom and lay down in there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he aged, Fox was afflicted by a mysterious illness which
was autoimmune in nature. He began a
slow slide downward with various times of serious flare up and times of
miraculous recovery. The last diagnosis
we had for him was Alabama Rot. He
suffered through many issues and corresponding</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0n8HFnpI9yJr0JGF3ktP3oMZhX_79N2z31mHUf1XiBuzs91wTcPOw5JE0Snw8rMqcbrGkVB0Yc3BUzbkKR-v9boFV8reUp_r2Oyx-9nO7uVhehizUO2hT7MJswCjyPByondomQ4dbcs/s1600/IMG_6395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Fox and Blue - half brothers" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt0n8HFnpI9yJr0JGF3ktP3oMZhX_79N2z31mHUf1XiBuzs91wTcPOw5JE0Snw8rMqcbrGkVB0Yc3BUzbkKR-v9boFV8reUp_r2Oyx-9nO7uVhehizUO2hT7MJswCjyPByondomQ4dbcs/s1600/IMG_6395.jpg" height="259" title="Fox and Blue - half brothers" width="320" /></a></div>
treatments with the patience and
constitution of a block of granite. It
did not matter what you had to do to him.
It did not matter that it sometimes involved a lot of pain. He would always stand and bear whatever had
to be done. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were a number of times over the past few years where
we were sure that Fox was going to leave us.
That it was time to release him.
But in a couple days he would make a complete turn around and be fine
again. Though each of these episodes
took a toll and he was never quite as good as he had been before. Still, this weekend it was a surprise when
the time where we would have to say our goodbyes finally did present itself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Grammy and Charlie held off, hoping like crazy for one more
of his miracle turn-arounds but that was not to be. If Fox was in pain, he never let us see
it. But he lost the ability to
stand. Then he didn’t pee for 36 hours
and when he finally did pee, it was because he had lost all control of his
bladder. When the greyhound that lived
for food above all else refused to eat, the time had come.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a gut-wrenching decision. His eyes were bright and lively to the
end. His spirit continued to be willing
to go on but his body would not cooperate.
Fox was 12 ½ years old. He had
outlived all of his littermates. He had a good run and by rights lived at least
a year longer than he probably would have if he had been a dog of lesser
determination. But that doesn’t make it
any easier.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We let him go yesterday afternoon with people who loved him
holding him as he went. He went as he
had come and as he lived, with stubborn determination and with love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Run fast and long Royal Foxglove. Until we meet again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMWdwVH6r90nd24JXjlpWC4BcwPQuy9nVUwEhm_4sOL6D9KlPkQmHASup3wGLtfG_wjFN-IiKc6P9K5-Qb0g2j0i48Xfaoq6mOYLMiAgYM2DViEHOufIf7ZRVLS6PvYzsCEMNPjKfcXA/s1600/IMG_2509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My favorite picture of Fox" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMWdwVH6r90nd24JXjlpWC4BcwPQuy9nVUwEhm_4sOL6D9KlPkQmHASup3wGLtfG_wjFN-IiKc6P9K5-Qb0g2j0i48Xfaoq6mOYLMiAgYM2DViEHOufIf7ZRVLS6PvYzsCEMNPjKfcXA/s1600/IMG_2509.jpg" height="266" title="My favorite picture of Fox" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox<br />
Royal Foxglove<br />
6/2/2002 - 1/4/2015</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-45575225876647696042014-12-31T00:00:00.000-05:002014-12-31T00:00:03.599-05:00Wordless Wednesday - Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgROv1C2-kKnfQzk2dTh9EYnmTevtxv2frqDdCUVUgGJrx-XD4QUAH0ne57nm3NVCLEhlVd2mr-_-mzt97u4Obm1yB8-dhboqLfYQYrO0FkHgfLBdNgqF_vXxZAA1IY9oNcEdmLJZ2UUw/s1600/IMG_8251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Vinnie McIlveen" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgROv1C2-kKnfQzk2dTh9EYnmTevtxv2frqDdCUVUgGJrx-XD4QUAH0ne57nm3NVCLEhlVd2mr-_-mzt97u4Obm1yB8-dhboqLfYQYrO0FkHgfLBdNgqF_vXxZAA1IY9oNcEdmLJZ2UUw/s1600/IMG_8251.jpg" height="640" title="Vinnie McIlveen" width="436" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vinnie McIlveen, age 12 yrs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-56563921371578944112014-12-30T18:00:00.000-05:002014-12-30T18:00:02.218-05:00Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me, When I’m 77?<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ahiddTyLiLx0yBCmaJatg9hx17ApQAKm6J7o12j1AECw698reMLna2jVgDM_0seTXJEKwEHQBScAz81Qk4i3vlsseSKakfUqj6OU83QLDSa_UZYKo7NJkOD03R-wyEsnrv3_0otB5J0/s1600/IMG_5422+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue, Bettina and Winslow greyhound" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_ahiddTyLiLx0yBCmaJatg9hx17ApQAKm6J7o12j1AECw698reMLna2jVgDM_0seTXJEKwEHQBScAz81Qk4i3vlsseSKakfUqj6OU83QLDSa_UZYKo7NJkOD03R-wyEsnrv3_0otB5J0/s1600/IMG_5422+copy.jpg" height="320" title="Blue, Bettina and Winslow greyhound" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A scrum of greyhounds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The holidays are supposed to be a time of happiness and a
renewal of faith in the innate goodness of humanity. I have to say that for us it was a mixed
bag. We got a call from someone (we’ll
call him Mr. Rescuer) just before Christmas.
He had gotten our number from a friend of his who lives near us and
knows we are involved with greyhounds. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The reason he was calling is because he had found a male
greyhound and didn’t want to send him to the pound. He was hoping we could help. Mr. Rescuer said that he had watched the
greyhound sleep in an open field for two nights prior to his taking it in. A canvass of the houses in the neighborhood
of the field turned up no one who was willing to admit to ownership. For those of you who don’t know much about
Maine, it’s pretty cold here in the winter.
Though we’ve been having a “warm spell,” that equates to days in the 40s
and nights in the 20s-30s. If you can’t conceive of that, try </div>
sleeping in
your refrigerator for a night with no clothes on.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After speaking with Mr. Rescuer, he said he had no problem
keeping the lost greyhound until after Christmas. The greyhound was warm and safe and being
fed. They had taken a shine to
him. After Christmas we arranged for the
kids and I to go and pick up the hound.
We would transport him to the Maine Greyhound Placement Service where he
would be identified and cared for. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sfjFSV2kcp3UV6ZsBZjh92Ae8kUCPGhbCh-HwFcQjDnC3MtKaKaE6mXwJMIfE2aVnePKtlCed6eLXhQeprOUgOy6E9mnrBQbwgxwvOKk5NRlFuHtm7xBVXBx834GVcjUuFgJSJghxuA/s1600/IMG_5446+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina and Winslow greyhound" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sfjFSV2kcp3UV6ZsBZjh92Ae8kUCPGhbCh-HwFcQjDnC3MtKaKaE6mXwJMIfE2aVnePKtlCed6eLXhQeprOUgOy6E9mnrBQbwgxwvOKk5NRlFuHtm7xBVXBx834GVcjUuFgJSJghxuA/s1600/IMG_5446+copy.jpg" height="320" title="Bettina and Winslow greyhound" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Things are always a little less scary with a friend.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We arrived on the appointed day and time to meet the
wandering grey and got our first shock.
He was a sweet, sweet old grey. He
had cataracts and a white face. When I
was finally able to get a look at his ear tattoo, I discovered he was 11 years
old. He was also clearly underweight
with bones and ribs poking out all over.
His nails looked like they hadn’t been tended to for some time. None the less, he was a happy boy and had
taken a liking to Mr. Rescuer and Mr. Rescuer’s father. I think the liking was mutual but
unfortunately Mr. Rescuer had an elderly cat and they did not feel they could
disrupt the cat’s world by moving a canine into the house. They
were definitely sorry to see this loving baby leave.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the greyhound didn’t balk at all about hopping up into
my car with Blue and Bettina as company.
That was how Mr. Rescuer got him home.
He opened his truck door and invited the wayward grey to jump in, which
he did. As we were driving to MGPS,
Blue, Bettina and our guest got comfortable with each other and soon were
curled into one big pile with three heads and three tails. The folks at MGPS were awaiting us when we
arrived. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Whp0AfnB0-pqq7X5y3_y5c5vayA62SV6VGt6Sfhc5ukXjNRZJCTMBrfnCwOb1JK-Y81TzavBPVl3LCZ4rEDklYXdhrd5IR455HDdYgU6_kNiiFqKiJBa_Dac5mZ3q04pQeMC0gesWtw/s1600/IMG_5452+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="In the back of the car" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Whp0AfnB0-pqq7X5y3_y5c5vayA62SV6VGt6Sfhc5ukXjNRZJCTMBrfnCwOb1JK-Y81TzavBPVl3LCZ4rEDklYXdhrd5IR455HDdYgU6_kNiiFqKiJBa_Dac5mZ3q04pQeMC0gesWtw/s1600/IMG_5452+copy.jpg" height="228" title="In the back of the car" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And if 1 friend is good, then 2 friends are better!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first thing they did was weigh this poor old
fellow. He weighed in at only 60
pounds. He was slightly smaller than
Blue but Blue weighs in at 75 lbs and I keep him on the thin side. This old guy should have been somewhere
between 70-75 lbs. He was at least 10
lbs lighter than he should have been. On
a greyhound that 10 lbs makes a big difference.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He got his nails clipped and a thorough going over by the
medical staff. In the meantime others
checked his ear tattoos and his microchip.
They discovered that he had originally been an MGPS hound. His name was Winslow and indeed when he was
addressed as such, he clearly knew who we were talking about. Once he was released from his medical check
he made a beeline straight to the comfy fluffy bed in the corner of the
room. You could almost hear him groan as
he settled </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeRTgqZPeKMI-o9fZ_nGYrefBADf59cHvyF6UZK8Y9AjOSprSzDaqLIX1liwry1WUY9uW12hWpiahR0XtHASaWDgfALRcdqiNz0qhzDjNTuVM9Lw2INxR-NRm42Yo5vfJua4ygbTquFw/s1600/IMG_5457+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Winslow gets checked over" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNeRTgqZPeKMI-o9fZ_nGYrefBADf59cHvyF6UZK8Y9AjOSprSzDaqLIX1liwry1WUY9uW12hWpiahR0XtHASaWDgfALRcdqiNz0qhzDjNTuVM9Lw2INxR-NRm42Yo5vfJua4ygbTquFw/s1600/IMG_5457+copy.jpg" height="251" title="Winslow gets checked over" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winslow gets checked over by everyone, including Cider.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
himself into the softness. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Winslow held court from the bed, not moving from it during
the time I was still at MGPS. We learned that not only was Winslow 11 years old, he had raced in Raynham MA and
had first been adopted in 2007. Blue is
11 years old and HE raced at Raynham as well (probably they raced there at the
same time). I adopted my Big Poppy in
2007. The parallels between this poor
skinny neglected hound and my own best boy were so striking. Since I cannot ever conceive of doing such a
thing to any hound in my care let alone an 11 year old who had been nothing but
loving, I felt pretty sick to my stomach that anyone else would. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I imagined Blue out in that field. My Blue who loves and asks for nothing more
than a soft place to lie down and a nice big dinner and some treats. The first thing Blue does in any new place is
greet all the people and then find the softest place available to lie
down. Blue wears a light fleece coat in
the</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXEH0jTMcA6vyqrGIjNsZYrG4HXrSM7h0_6loCYNGySrqydRrBNA1ZmAoXt_u6v_3v6G6oCJhK05WkSJeV6Tl9YBmAuyUJlalF7mIRFXNtUPLgaV9yPrl6rwvE4aL9MIDGP1UwaB0ca4/s1600/IMG_5466+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Winslow has his microchip checked" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqXEH0jTMcA6vyqrGIjNsZYrG4HXrSM7h0_6loCYNGySrqydRrBNA1ZmAoXt_u6v_3v6G6oCJhK05WkSJeV6Tl9YBmAuyUJlalF7mIRFXNtUPLgaV9yPrl6rwvE4aL9MIDGP1UwaB0ca4/s1600/IMG_5466+copy.jpg" height="298" title="Winslow has his microchip checked" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A soft place for old bones.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
house in the winter and a coat and snood over that when he goes outside
because his old bones get cold so much easier than a younger hound. He has memory foam bedding to make sure he’s
comfortable. He has an electric blanket
in his crate to make sure he stays nice and warm at night. Any greyhound who reaches the venerable age
of 11 deserves to be pampered and loved an extra measure.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How could someone be so cruel and so heartless to put any
dog out like that, let alone one who is
more vulnerable because of his breed and age?
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We got a call from MGPS later that day after we had returned
home. They let us know that they had
tracked down and spoken with the original adopters and pieced together a story
of divorce and the handing off of Winslow to someone else who clearly didn’t
care for the dog. Winslow will stay at
MGPS where he’ll be fattened up and spoiled for awhile and then put up for
adoption. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If there is any sort of god, Winslow will spend his last
years in a loving home being spoiled rotten.
Good things will come to Mr. Rescuer and his father for saving Winslow
from a worse fate. And there is a
special corner of hell reserved for whoever turned that greyhound out into that freezing
field.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<b>Post Script: </b> There has been more contact with the person who took Winslow after the divorce. He says that Winslow escaped during a visit from the UPS man. He has offered to pay treatment and dental costs and any other costs to have him returned. I have some personal doubts about how hard anyone searched for Winslow given at least 2 days having elapsed since his escape and 5 more days elapsing while in the care of Mr. Rescuer and no posters up as well as his being so underweight and teeth and nails neglected. But it certainly can happen that a moments inattention can result in something terrible like this happening. I hope for Winslow's sake, and for the sake of my faith in humanity that this is all true and it has a happy ending. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-26855412251896784232014-12-24T00:00:00.000-05:002014-12-24T00:00:06.341-05:00Happy Howlidays!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA46OwrBRJ6LL03GGijYGq6SCcnXqMl-rAEP3sw2jtBcn0nSirqb7BRk04ok5Fp4xbTUvMmHjSdAkZv-gHyqhn5q-i8mktcJIcJzRiJv7iBKATyV0XG5ltcXrc7m3cBqV7hpcDFw_2pEk/s1600/Christmas+Card+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Happy Holidays from Blue and Bettina Greyhound" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA46OwrBRJ6LL03GGijYGq6SCcnXqMl-rAEP3sw2jtBcn0nSirqb7BRk04ok5Fp4xbTUvMmHjSdAkZv-gHyqhn5q-i8mktcJIcJzRiJv7iBKATyV0XG5ltcXrc7m3cBqV7hpcDFw_2pEk/s1600/Christmas+Card+2014.jpg" height="285" title="Happy Holidays from Blue and Bettina Greyhound" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-78913875977559410642014-12-19T18:00:00.000-05:002014-12-19T18:00:04.001-05:00Like Fine Wine...On December 10th my Big Poppy turned 11 years old. We've had a discussion and I've let him know that his goal now is 19 years. I thought about 20 years but I didn't want to get greedy. So 19 years it is. And when we get to 19 years, what's one more year?<br />
<br />
We celebrated that evening with a big birthday cookie and some presents including his most favorite of all, Greenies. In honor of the 11 years Mumma decided to forego a silly birthday hat. But I make no such promises for his 12th birthday.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWuFPZy7sCEacDgOVOMFKhPZiDXgQX3gM1UlXCujO_xS352b1abD7ADUUaTQSH7bX2yxZoBPsx7EXbwnyCVOSEzlH6iKTwvybryv25ZbfG5mOQz1g5QpcQoKs_ilW9WaVLB9JYeoO0ks/s1600/IMG_8098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="The Big Cookie" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWuFPZy7sCEacDgOVOMFKhPZiDXgQX3gM1UlXCujO_xS352b1abD7ADUUaTQSH7bX2yxZoBPsx7EXbwnyCVOSEzlH6iKTwvybryv25ZbfG5mOQz1g5QpcQoKs_ilW9WaVLB9JYeoO0ks/s1600/IMG_8098.jpg" height="248" title="The Big Cookie" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Big Cookie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sne6S_xCd39fKN6I4jvCb744xPph2Ob41kLe-UcLtpkDLBoZ3vHbg08zFJnYvpKWnoBtTzmTlpok2ppW1o36c2FA-D6_1N05L3SoNlpht7jNl8hq6tpTKk_zxZKK2qQq6gYu9RxkTIQ/s1600/IMG_8107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue the greyhound enjoys his birthday cookie" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0sne6S_xCd39fKN6I4jvCb744xPph2Ob41kLe-UcLtpkDLBoZ3vHbg08zFJnYvpKWnoBtTzmTlpok2ppW1o36c2FA-D6_1N05L3SoNlpht7jNl8hq6tpTKk_zxZKK2qQq6gYu9RxkTIQ/s1600/IMG_8107.jpg" height="241" title="Blue the greyhound enjoys his birthday cookie" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">About to punch the paparazzo in the face.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSt9arSkQzn2szKvQ1GnIayO8zLK4MFpQuZpq8qV2aw7C_8HR5KoTFI8JrsWujbYrs8YO0huj1fFGy8_LqarLiP0cy0nYH-_-uXpBHZl3C6D8eB1CTy6LKqKJv3Hy51IGR7ujF6D7mXkU/s1600/IMG_8118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina photo bomb" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSt9arSkQzn2szKvQ1GnIayO8zLK4MFpQuZpq8qV2aw7C_8HR5KoTFI8JrsWujbYrs8YO0huj1fFGy8_LqarLiP0cy0nYH-_-uXpBHZl3C6D8eB1CTy6LKqKJv3Hy51IGR7ujF6D7mXkU/s1600/IMG_8118.jpg" height="219" title="Bettina photo bomb" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bettina photo bomb. "Ummm, where is my cookie?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyx-jchyphenhyphenQziCYFGAXc6fsuZNsUiicq43Eg7IYT3vodsXq8wtjAri6eNaG2_hwISk9Urrb-GWgZHZLRyi9fDfOFmfv6KPhyh0mMl93WENri4JZTg2gfkBNCH0jBFxWziNI-lrIG6MuYyKw/s1600/IMG_8142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Blue the greyhound in his new scarf" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyx-jchyphenhyphenQziCYFGAXc6fsuZNsUiicq43Eg7IYT3vodsXq8wtjAri6eNaG2_hwISk9Urrb-GWgZHZLRyi9fDfOFmfv6KPhyh0mMl93WENri4JZTg2gfkBNCH0jBFxWziNI-lrIG6MuYyKw/s1600/IMG_8142.jpg" height="213" title="Blue the greyhound in his new scarf" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's just a scarf Mumma. Not a fashion shoot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNKkhD4HlaUqOY3BhrVNsJAka1brjcJ-ZGwSZz1aVTRwHv-lQpK4LF3AyFP0cgPgHKWedi42S-NCfLxhvsXXjsjGc8IPnUrn4Iis0RmpyFIpsLXT5RCaTH165DorOQrDQGyavyeIfJw4/s1600/IMG_8167.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Bettina searches for crumbs" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNKkhD4HlaUqOY3BhrVNsJAka1brjcJ-ZGwSZz1aVTRwHv-lQpK4LF3AyFP0cgPgHKWedi42S-NCfLxhvsXXjsjGc8IPnUrn4Iis0RmpyFIpsLXT5RCaTH165DorOQrDQGyavyeIfJw4/s1600/IMG_8167.jpg" height="209" title="Bettina searches for crumbs" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's a girl got to do to get her own Big Cookie? What? I had one in October?<br />I'm QUITE sure I would have remembered that.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3729368127518690658.post-39237644594253889092014-11-17T00:00:00.000-05:002014-11-17T00:00:02.094-05:00A Greyhound Mad-Lib Part II<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Adopting a retired racing greyhound can end up__________(active
verb ending in ing) your </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTTl8ObAhgr6GDbrJpPtGr1Hqn_76yO-WOnBnLgaTjkUI7QKEG-TZKIzOHJkZD_RG4IxDDmD_K709qnt-mVFIpupHbZzhRMC2oHuSViL1wdlMR7fSxTGvi-o_7aQSr1wUOfZVRzu-YJg/s1600/IMG_3781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Blue and Bettina Greyhound-can't miss a minute" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyTTl8ObAhgr6GDbrJpPtGr1Hqn_76yO-WOnBnLgaTjkUI7QKEG-TZKIzOHJkZD_RG4IxDDmD_K709qnt-mVFIpupHbZzhRMC2oHuSViL1wdlMR7fSxTGvi-o_7aQSr1wUOfZVRzu-YJg/s1600/IMG_3781.JPG" height="320" title="Blue and Bettina Greyhound-can't miss a minute" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">life.
Greyhounds are generally very ______________(adjective). They are frequently found laying on the most
comfortable ___________(noun) in your house!
You should always use a _______________(noun) whenever outdoors with
your new friend. Some greyhounds will
______________(verb), _______________(verb) and ________________(verb). All of these activities are perfectly
normal. If you have a fenced in
_____________(noun), it can be breathtaking to watch your greyhound
_______________(verb).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Greyhounds can be very ___________________(adjective). They enjoy playing with
________________(plural noun). But be
sure to monitor your new greyhound to make sure they don’t get it caught in
their ____________(body part).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Greyhounds Aren't Greyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11755602610550887510noreply@blogger.com2