Greyhound Blog

Curry - Red Hot Mama

2010-03-29T10:04:00.004-06:00

Curry will add spice to someone's life. This 7 year old gal bursts with personality, attitude and smarts. She's looking for a household to run.

Life hasn't been kind to her, as she's been an outdoor dog for 7 years, without the medical and behavioral attention a greyhound deserves. But she's blossoming under the tutelage of Lorinda and Casey Stack of Salt Lake City, Utah.

They'll make sure she gets spayed and a dental. She's quickly learning housebreaking and house manners. She loves to tell her other greyhound companions - Power and Rascal - what to do. She tried to tell Lorinda, but Lorinda wasn't having any of it.

You can read more about Curry in our Available Dogs section. But watch here for updates from Lorinda and Casey about Curry's SLC adventures. If you're interested in adopting her, and giving her the life she deserves, then just email me.

My Beauty Arrives

2009-12-29T12:03:00.003-07:00

She arrived, late one Saturday night, after an eleven hour ride, with a car load of six other greyhounds. All rescued from death. All to be residents of the Greyhound Gang until they were healthy and happy. All would then go to loving homes.

She had no name, no known history and scars coursed her filthy frame. She'd been found wandering the streets of Tucson, lost, abandoned, unwanted. But the Greyhound Gang had an adopter wanting a small fawn female, so she was spayed one day, and sent to us the next. And she was ill. Burning up with a temperature of 105 degrees.

Sunday, she'd claimed a corner of the couch and I sat next to her putting cold compresses on her feet to try to get the temperature down. I put baby food on my hand, and she'd feebly lick it off. I syringed water down her throat. The small town vet was out hunting. Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, with their seasoned staff resided up the road. I took her there, and they put her on an intravenous IV immediately, and antibiotics. No significant change. They took her blood and sent it off.
I spent all Sunday night on the couch with her, watching, waiting, worrying. Her ear tattoo told me she was five, her extended nipples told me she'd had a litter or two, her eyes told me she was in pain. I told her about the life that was waiting for her once she got well. The lady with the poodle who wanted to adopt a greyhound. She'd probably want to name her Precious, or Binky, or Tiffany. And when I suggested Beauty, she looked deep into my eyes and put her paw on my arm. So Beauty it was.

We limped along, Beauty still running a high temp, barely eating and drinking, until Tuesday. The blood results arrived. Beauty had both immune affecting tick diseases -- Erhliciosis with a titer of 10,000. And Babesiosis with a titer of 640. She was immediately put on a course of Tetracycline, and within two days her temp was back to normal, and she was off the couch.
Within one week she was running and playing with the other dogs. Within three weeks, she'd replaced her coat with a new shinier, healthier one. And within a month, she'd adopted me.

Beauty's days are now spent riding shotgun with me on all adoption trips, sleeping curled up on my bed with her head just touching the edge of my pillow, and chasing lizards around the red rocks of southern Utah. What a Beauty she is...

Greyhound Gathering Recap

2009-06-12T12:26:00.003-06:00

We had such a good time this year at the Gathering.
Weather and people were fantastic, and dogs, as always, were the best!

To see some of the fun:
Best Friends Slide Show, courtesy of Molly Wald, staff photographer

Steve & Gayle Uyehara's photo album

Ross Nooney - YouTube

Vote for Clyde, win the Greyhounds $10,000 in Bissells MVP Competition!

2009-02-24T10:41:00.001-07:00

Greyhound Gathering - Kanab 2009 - May 15 - 17

2009-01-30T15:32:00.003-07:00

Greyhound Gathering - Kanab is in its 10th year.
Do visit the overview to learn about accommodations, events, guidelines and more.

Once you've read that info, then registration is on-line and ready for you.

See you soon!

Claudia & Greyhound Gang

Why President-Elect Obama is Like a Greyhound

2008-11-08T18:33:00.001-07:00

Top Ten ReasonsWhy President-Elect Obama is Like a Greyhound
10. He's elegant.
9. He's lean.
8. He's smart.
7. He listens really well.
6. He knows how to handle a crowd.
5. He surrounds himself with smart people.
4. He loves his family.
3. He looks you in the eye when he talks to you.
2.He's unfailingly polite and well-behaved.
1. He knows how to run a race and win.

The Obama family needs a greyhound in the White House. Thousands are discarded yearly, so this would be a 'shelter' dog, needing rescue. They are perfect for people with allergies. They are quiet and don't bark, so wouldn't interrupt any major decisions being made. They don't shed a lot, so the White House furniture would not be destroyed. They look as gorgeous in public, as does the Obama family, and so would fit right in, though Obama may have to budget for the greyhound's clothing. This Greyhound Guide tells more about what they are like as pets. A Washington, DC local greyhound rescue organization can answer questions and more.

Those of us in Greyhound Rescue know we change the world for the better, one greyhound adopted at a time. We know "we must be the change we want to see" (Gandhi). Many of us know President-Elect Obama is the change we need.

Claudia & Greyhound Gang

Deweying It Again

2008-09-13T13:48:00.002-06:00

Headed to Dewey Beach in a few weeks.
Packing the AdoptGreyhounds.org RV with Clyde and Power, and hitting the road for a five day drive.

Then it's the beach and the sun, and the fun and the hounds.

Come to my fun talks where I give away lots of stuff, and offer lots of good info. If I do say so myself.
3 pm on Thursday, Friday and Sunday.
Why Does my Hound to THAT?
When I Am Older
I Know This to be True

7 Bayside Court, off of Dagsworthy. Sharing a carport with the lovely Kris' Koats.

Summer Time & the Living is Easy

2008-06-29T11:45:00.002-06:00

Greyhound Gathering - Kanab is over for 2008. Do check out the fun we had with the videos created by Dan King, one of the Guests. Dates for 2009 will most likely be the weekend after Mother's Day, but a definite date will be determined in December.

Hot is the operative word this summer. The hounds - Clyde and Power, and Italian Greyhound, Isabelle, plus our foster, Kenzie, make sure I'm up early, so we can hike during the morning cool. There are two adolescent coyotes that stalk and talk at us during our morning hikes down Pugh Canyon. They are brazen, being very clear in their yelps that we are infringing on their territory.

We just spent 9 days in Las Vegas dogsitting Smiles and Allie. We were slugs. Sun, books, movies, good Trader Joe's food, fresh tomatoes. It was most excellent.

So we're home, in lovely Kanab, and catching up on work. Do check out our auction, and contest and specials. We work - kind of - hard to bring that to you :)

And if you're thinking about a life change - think about moving to Kanab. This lovely house, right next to Greyhound Gang, is available.

What Am I Doing?

2008-02-10T22:49:00.002-07:00

Welcome.
Give me a little time here to figure this blog thing out. How much do I say? How little do I say. I often do I say? I always have a lot to say.

For now, over on the side there, are some things I've said. Well, actually, some things I've written. Most are reasonably entertaining. My brother said that, and he's not one to overstate.

My Journey or The Life You Save is about the cross-country trip I took in 1993. I ditched my position, power and pay, and traveled the country with my greyhound, Slim, and cockatiel, Hoser, looking for a better way to live. I found it in Kanab, Utah and founded Greyhound Gang.

Hound Stories (and the individual name labels) are stories I wrote for Greyt Angel donors to help raise funds to rescue more hounds. For a monthly donation, I'd send them a hound story with some pictures. These were hounds that usually stuck around with me a bit longer before I found them the perfect home. I'll be editing these, and putting up new ones at some point. I miss them all.

Thanks for visiting. More will follow.

Annie Bananie

2006-01-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

Annie Banannie

I've never said a nice thing about little dogs. Or white dogs. This is the story of a little white dog.

Annie, an Italian Greyhound (we think), came to the Gang with Big Red, a red fawn greyhound, from Salt Lake City. Their owner had brought them to 2nd Chance Greyhounds in SLC, as he didn't want them anymore.
They were in very poor health, and we thought about 11 years old. 2nd Chance did all the medical work, (over $1000) and the Gang took them in to find them a home. We didn't know much about their past, but our assumption was that they needed to go to a home together, since it appeared they had been together for a long time. Finding an adopter to take two older dogs is always a bit problematic. Annie was also very shy, and would hide under furniture when strangers came around. She hated to be picked up, and didn't appear to know what giving or receiving affection was all about.

One of my adopters had a cousin who was willing to take both dogs. I brought them to her home, with medical instructions, free glucosamine, shark cartilage and the promise that we would stay in touch. I hadn't met the woman, and had just been going on the word of my good adopters, and an extended phone conversation I had with her. Unfortunately, I didn't like her when I met her, but I was too chicken to not give her the dogs. Plus I didn't think I would find someone who would take two old dogs (both not beauties) with medical needs. I tried to stay in touch, using my adopters to give me updates too, but this woman was not very easy to deal with. One year later she called me to return the dogs as she was moving in 4 days. Annie and Red came back to me in even worse medical condition from the year before. Annie had tumors all over her body, toe nails that curled under and was 21 pounds. IGs usually weigh about 12.

And so it began, the second rehabilitation of Annie and Red. Red got well quickly with Adequan and acupuncture, and went into a loving greyhound home in SLC. Annie had the tumors removed, the nails clipped, and went on a strick 10 kibble, twice a day diet. She hated it. She is a very food oriented girl, probably from not having very many other pleasures in her life. When I am in the kitchen, which is usually only to make food for the dogs, Annie starts her food dance. Whirling and twirling, and jumping at the other dog's mouths, barking in that shrill little dog bark - all in anticipation of the food she is going to get. I usually throw a pot down just to shut her up.

To also help take the weight off, I took her for walks and runs every day with the other dogs. I have a safe place where I walk my dogs, off leash. If any other people pull up in a car with their dogs, I quickly put leashes on all my guys - not that they would hurt other dogs individually, but packs running towards a new dog can always be a potential for problems.

One day, about two weeks into Annie's rehab program, I'm walking everyone, and a car pulls up. So I quickly put leashes on Marm, Regis, and a few others. Winslow and Beauty are fine in greeting new dogs, and I didn't even think about Annie being a problem. The next thing I know is that she is tearing off like a banshee after a big black dog. Growling and yipping and snapping at his heels as he runs away from this terror in white. I'm screaming her name, sure that I will have a dead dog on my hands as soon as the big black dog realizes what is going on. And then he stops and turns. And Annie, in sheer terror of being confronted, puts on the brakes, tries to backpedal, and trips over her coat, and does a backward somersault - just as I'm arriving on the scene, many greyhounds in tow. The black dog's owner and I couldn't stop laughing.

We now let all the other dogs greet newcomers, and the terror is usually in my arms making all kinds of bizarre noises about what she's going to do if she gets her mouth on that other dog. She is such a crack up.

I've never owned a small dog, so I had to do lots of research on the internet to find out about food, and clothing, and medical and personality. When she came to me so fat, I really didn't know if she was part Jack Russell and IG, or what. I was hoping no terrorist was in her, but sometimes her behaviors - like the attack on other breeds of dogs - make me think she is part JRT. Her body is more coarse looking then the little petite IGs I see in people's arms and she is as svelt as she can get, (which is about 12 - 15 pounds depending on how much food she can steal from the other dogs when I'm not looking). Most of her behaviors though, appear to be pure IG. Not housebroken when I got her, she sleeps curled under the covers every night, needs a coat all the time, (that girl has a bigger wardrobe than any of my greyhounds) and has a leaping ability that all point to IG. I've found that puppy mills breed many of these, because they are cute and little. But then people get them, and can't housebreak them, or they break legs or have other medical issues, and so the lucky ones are turned into rescue groups.

I'm pretty sure the Gang will always have a rescued little one from now on - thanks to the Annie Bananie.

Winslow

2004-01-01T08:22:00.001-07:00

My Winslow Man

I come home down my long, pebble lined driveway and look to the right where the Gang's Guest House is. On the Guest House porch is Winslow's personal futon. From that vantage point he'd watch the world and wait for me to come home. Unfolding that big, gorgeous body of his, loping over to the car, tail wagging, to plop himself right down on another dog bed. Waiting for me to give him his due as the man of the place. Winslow is one of those guys who isn't too bad on the eyes, and loves his comfy furniture. He was found wandering the streets of Colorado, and stumbled his way to the Gang.

I don't even remember the year he came to me. I think he was four or five. Found wandering the streets by the Humane Society in CO, Abby found him there. Abby and I had established an underground railroad of sorts. Colorado State University was killing greyhounds – about 900 a year, 400 of them being used by third year vet students for surgery practice, and then terminated. The others just terminated because they had too many. I had been at CSU for almost two weeks for spinal surgery treatment of my Slim and had found out, first hand, about this. Abby worked for CSU. We started talking, and we just knew we had to do something. So we established the Greyhound Underground Railroad. She would get vet students to say they were adopting a greyhound, as this was the only way to get them out. Then I'd take them, and find them real, forever homes.

Anyhow, I'm getting a bit off track, but because of the relationship that Abby and I established during that time she called to tell me about Winslow, and how I needed to take him. He was staying at her home, but she had 4 dogs, and felt he'd do better coming to me. So we arranged a trip for him from CO to my home, and he arrived.

A big, striking boy, he fit right in with all the crazy goings on here in the early days. Dogs coming and going. Being washed, trained, vetted, socialized – he watched it all from a convenient soft place. I called him my banana brindle, my butterscotch brindle boy. Abby had been calling him Kermit, which he didn't respond to. So I started asking him what he would like to be called. I called on his tattoos and found out that he was called Ben G Triumph. But he showed no interest in any of those names. I'd run through the gambit of letters and sounds trying to get a reaction from him, but I could never get one. He was so laid back that he wasn't very expressive about much.

One day I was up at Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, it was at least a week since he'd been with me, and he still hadn't decided on a name. I'd always ask people what they thought – and one woman looked at Winslow, had a conversation with him and said he wanted to be called Sir Winston. Well, I don't like cigarettes at all, and that's all I could think of when the word Winston came up – but I started to call him Winslow, and he liked that. So Winslow it became.

He never showed me very much affection, or asked for much attention. He never growled at any dog. He always waited his turn. He suffered being stepped on, and eating last and not getting as many snuggles as the more needy dogs. He never asked for much of anything. And Winslow just sort of stayed. Almost the middle child syndrome – fitting in, not raising a ruckus, just going with the flow, sometimes invisible.

And then he just never left. I tried to find him a home, but he decided to pee blood on the ride there, and so never made it anywhere but my home. Blending into the furniture and my life. Taking over the futon, or the overstuffed chair, or waiting in the car for his walk. And he did this all with infinite patience.

Laconic and amiable, Winslow was the inspiration for Fred in Greyhound Gang Illustrated – Volume I. You ask him to do something, and he does it. No complaints, no back talk, no problem. Nothing ever fazes him. The dogs stepping on him, the waiting for his turn, the endless parade. And all the other dogs liked him. They wanted to hang with him. They knew he was cool, and no threat.

His favorite foods were pizza and popcorn. He has been known to come out of a deep sleep, which is where he spends the majority of this time, if he smells either. But he never begs. He's too polite for that. He just gets in the sphinx position near you, and waits. He's so good at waiting. He'll just wait forever. No whining, no barking, no complaining. He's content to get whatever it is he's going to get.

This photo was for a photo contest, and he was an ice cream man that day. I think because you can't smell it he never knew when I was eating it in the house.

He was the official greeter. He'd hang outside the Guest House, just waiting for Guests to come and pet him and watch the sunset, or sunrise. He wasn't particular. He would often scratch at the Guest House door, usually at 6 am to tell the guests it was time to start their day...by petting him. And pet him they did. And he was always their favorite.

Bow. Somewhere he learned how to take a bow. And he's not above using it when pizza and popcorn are available.

Loves the car. Goes right in. Lays down. And doesn't move. Particularly partial to vans. If any door is open, he'll just get in and usually won't go out until we've had that ride. I've had to drive up and down the driveway some days just to make him think we went for a ride.

Walks.

He couldn't ever walk next to me. He had to be out there, somewhere in the front. He needed that sense of freedom. He seldom really ran, just trotted most of the time. But never next to me. And we had many discussions about that. And many leash walks. And it wasn't until I lost him for 2 hours during one of our walks, and returned stressed out to the car to find him at the car patiently waiting for me, that the turning point happened. At that moment I realized that he was not going to leave me, and he would be OK. And from that point on he stayed in my sight, not next to me, of course, but if I yelled wait, he would stop, wait until I got closer, and then head out on his way. And he loved his freedom walks.

Medical. When Winslow first came to the Gang, he would go outside and pee. And pee. And Pee. I had never seen a dog pee for so long at one time. I took him to one vet. Diagnosis – Kidney Failure. Another vet – Nothing wrong with him. Another vet – Bladder Infection. So we went through a few runarounds trying to help him. His specific gravity was pretty low, so he wasn't concentrating his urine, and he drank a lot of water. So he loved that dog door. But other than the peeing nothing else seemed untoward.

Then something happened. What we'll never really know. Suffice it to say, that $4000 later, traditional vets gave him back, saying idiopathic cystitis and said “Just love him while you can.” That was over 3 years ago, thanks to the expertise and dedication of Dr. Kim Henneman, an excellent holistic vet. And most days he feels just fine, and most of the time the Gang house is decorated in pretty pink and blue incontinence pads.
A small decorating price to pay for having this sweet boy in our lives.

And then a few months ago, he lost his ability to walk on his back legs. I found him down in the middle of driveway. With some holistic treatments, he turned right around. But there was something wrong with his right side. After consulting with four vets, it appeared he had some major scar tissue in his groin area that was causing him pain, and to walk funny. It also appeared that he had something neurological going on. But something undetermined.
And then a month later he lost his back end ability again. With holistic care he was up and walking within 24 hours. And then a week later, he lost it again. And then a few days later he lost it again. The progression was obvious.
Our guess is blood clots, not neurological. But Winslow, when he's not sleeping, is a guy that likes to hike. And he couldn't hike any more in this world.

And I had a piece of pizza last night, and no one to eat my crust. And all the incontinence pads have been washed, and the house is empty. No one is outside surveying the realm, no one comes running to meet my car, no one jumps into the car and settles in with his head for me to pet as I drive. No soft fur to sink my forehead into. No beautiful big boy to tell him I love him. No Winslow. No Winslow.

Hound Stories - Marmalade

2002-01-01T15:27:00.000-07:00

Serendipitous. That's my relationship with Marmalade. In 1999, Jimmy and Becky Crowder stayed at the Gang's Guest House. They owned greyhounds, and were coming to volunteer with Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. From the heart of the south, their hearts are big. They are always looking for ways to make people and dogs' lives better. They also volunteer at local greyhound adoption facilities. One of these facilities, the Greater Raleigh Greyhound Rescue in Virginia, is housed at a vet office. There, a little girl named Marm stole their heart. They would always take her for a walk whenever they visited. They had three greyhounds of their own, and no room for an alpha girl, and their hearts sank every time they went to that facility and Marm was still kenneled there.

Marm had been with the adoption facility for three years. She was deemed a hard adoption. She'd had a chance at a couple of homes, but neither one could deal with her abundance of energy, and her desire to not be left alone.

She started her adoption journey from the Daytona Beach track in January of 1998. She was two years old, and full of herself. This gorgeous white, brindled patched, ticked girl with the little face, and the tight body. She's the Nadia Comenici of the greyhound world.
Her first family tried to deal with her separation anxieties for a few months, but just couldn't so they returned her. Her second family had a greyhound, but Marm wanted to be in charge, and the other greyhound was unhappy with that.
When Marm came back to the kennel she went into a severe funk. Knowing that she had failed, feeling that she was not loved enough. Because there is nothing that Marmalade wants more than to be accepted and loved for herself. She will do just about anything to please you. The adoption kennel wanted to be so sure with her next home, to not have her returned a third time, that the home they were looking for just never materialized.

That's when in 2001, Becky and Jimmy stepped in, and asked to have her shipped to me. All parties agreed it was a good idea, and Marm made the plane flight out to Las Vegas, NV from Virginia, and is now awaiting her forever home at the Gang's home.

Marmalade's View - morning
I don't know what is happening to me. But as long as I'm in my crate I'm OK. But this muzzle - I don't need that - it's coming off NOW!
I got paid the most attention I've been paid in a long long time. I was petted and fetted, and made a fuss over, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I heard something about a trip and an airplane, and Utah - but I haven't a clue what that is all about.
They know I don't like change, but it sure smells like change is in the air. The humans are emitting new odors. Odors of excitement, some fear, some sadness. Is this all over me? What did I do wrong?? I've tried to be a good girl. I try to do what they want of me.

They walked me out of the animal place. I like leaving there, as it usually means a romp in the park. But there are so many people, I was scared. I smelled Becky and Jimmy, and maybe they are here to take me for a walk?! They usually take me for a walk - oh boy - but why are all these other people here?
Oh, there's a big crate in a car. And they are telling me to get in it? Ok. Up I go. It's a bit smaller than what I'm used to, but if this is what they want from me, I want to make these humans happy.

We've been in the car for quite a while. This is longer than I've ever been in a car.
Oh, we're slowing down now. The car is opening. I'm being taken out of the crate. This is a strange place. There are strange odors. I don't like this. This makes me very nervous. I'll just plaster myself against Becky's legs. They are taking the crate out, and telling me not to worry, and we're all going into another building.

Back into the crate for me. Can't these humans make up their minds? I'm happy to just stay in the crate. I know what crates look and feel like. They are safe, and they are mine.
People are crowding around the crate. They are using that goodbye word. They are crying. Why so sad? I'm Ok in my crate. WHOA - maybe I'm not. The crate is being carried, this is not fun - I don't like this. What is going on? Where am I going?
The crate feels like it's being moved now, but there are no people. The scenery is moving around me, but no one is carrying me. This is not normal. WHOA, this is a big hole that I'm going into. Just what is going on here? Is this Utah?
It's dark in here, and a bit cold too. I think I'll just sleep. There are no humans around to bother me.
Human views - Virginia - last afternoon
It's bittersweet getting Marm ready for her trip to Utah. We love her dearly, and don't want to let her go, but feel we have failed her by not finding her a home here.
Having been returned twice, and being a sensitive girl, we didn't want to place her in a home from which she might be returned yet again. So we kept her here. She's been living in a kennel at the vet's office, which also does greyhound adoptions, for the past three years. We thought she was happy, but as time went by we realized that she could be happier.
That's when the Crowders gave Marm the opportunity to try a new life with the Greyhound Gang in Utah.

So we all gave her a send off, with many kisses, a new collar and leash, positive thoughts and many tears. Goodbyes are always sweet and sorrowful. We knew she was nervous, and we were too, but also knew that once the trip was over, she'd be happy with 2.5 acres to run on and the Greyhound Gang to give her personal attention.
We drove her to the airport, hoping we were sending her to a life that she would love.

Human views - Vegas - midnight
We were so excited to pick up Marm, and hoped that she would like her new life, and behave with all the other dogs at the Gang. We got there an hour early, as we didn't want her to sit in her crate any longer than necessary. We were told that the dogs don't get to the crate facility until at least an hour after the plane has landed. So we drove around Vegas, just killing time, and getting more nervous.
We got back to the place, and there was our crate, and our dog. We took her out immediately, and took her for a walk. She was very well behaved on leash, and very interested in her surroundings. We broke down the crate, and let her just ride in the car with us, her first test that she passed with flying colors.

At midnight, we brought her to another home in Vegas, Janice Ziola, who also rescues greyhounds. She was going to spend the night and next morning there, and after Claudia did her Meet & Greet that next day, she'd be heading home to Utah in the afternoon. Janice was going to be home, and could watch her and her interactions with the other greyhounds for that time frame.
Marm handled herself very well, and enjoyed meeting the other greyhounds and hanging out. After the initial greetings, Janice didn't even use the muzzle on her. When Claudia picked her up the next day, she was ready to get back in the car and continue her adventure - this time in Utah!

Where am I?
My heart went out to Marm. She sent out so many insecure vibes when she first came here.
First there was the growling. Never at me, just at the other dogs. "Don't come near me, don't try to interact with me, keep your distance", was a constant growl refrain from her. She'd lived in a crate at the vet's kennel for three years, so not being in a crate was a huge change for her. But one I felt she'd like, and soon.
I had the muzzle on her the first few days, until I realized that she never snapped, she just made noise. And an ugly, growly noise it was. Her whole lip curled back, and her beautiful little white teeth gleamed. The other dogs gave her a wide berth. I spent a lot of time telling her that it was OK, and she could be nice to everyone, and that they weren't out to get her or her spot.

Then there was my use of voice. If I yelled at her - and I'm talking just a loud, meaningful "Marm", she went down. Plastered herself to the floor, looking up at me, asking me what she had done. It would force me to go down to her level, and assure her that she was loved. She needed that assurance many times daily. Initially she would get as still as a statue, not looking at me, not sure what was going to be her lot. I was a little worried, as her stillness could have resulted in harm to me, as I've seen insecure greyhounds just launch when they feel threatened. But then she would wiggle that body, and smile. Smile that ingratiating, full gleaming teeth, white smile. She knew she could use that when needed.

We dealt with her food desires, her "I'm going to starve if I don't go from bowl to bowl and eat everyone's food" behavior. Once she realized that the bowls were always full, she had no problem with other dogs eating in there. Unless it was new dog in the house. Then she had to monitor their initial eating habits, and I had to monitor her. She learned to lay and wait in the living room doorway until I gave her the command to go in and clean up whatever anyone else left.

Her insecurities those first weeks made my heart ache. She wanted so much to be loved, and for this to be her final home. When loving her, I had to let her know that she was here to find her forever home, but it wouldn't be with me because I had my girl already - Beauty. I knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, but I knew she needed to hear it. I also knew that I needed to find someone that wanted her to be just their girl, and no one else's.

In those first few weeks Marm displayed some amazing traits. Her smarts - she listens quickly and correctly. I say something to her, and she does it. Her jumping abilities - she can twirl and jump and leap with the any of the Gilley Girls. She doesn't get herself in trouble when she's running; she never comes back with any marks on her. Her desire to do what you want - she really just wants to be loved, and my job is to teach her that she can be.

She doesn't believe it yet, but she will. That tight, white body with the soft hair, and all the freckles covering her. Her petite, freckle-covered face, that nudges you and snuggles you and smiles at you. She wants so much to be loved by someone, to find someone to call her own.

4.
Needy

She is so desperate to be loved. Just looks at you with these looks that compel you to throw your arms around her and tell her she is loved. Just pure hope and expectations, all the while thinking that it won't happen for her. When she greets me at the door, it's always like she can't believe I really did come back to her, and that I still love her. I feel like I've failed her because we have not found the right home for her yet. And she so wants to be in her forever home. And as you see here, on a bed of her own!

Affectionate

She just loves to have her tummy rubbed. If you get down on the floor with her, she'll just roll right over, and display that gorgeous, and getting a wee bit plump tummy, and you have no choice but to rub it, and keep rubbing it. She has a lot of thick, soft hair - the softest I've ever felt on a greyhound, so it's no hardship to love on her tummy just like she wants. She also gets the most comfortable in a dead cockroaching position - all legs splayed out in all directions - pure joy. And the looks of love she can give. So very expressive with her eyes, her tilt of her head, her looks straight at you. I've tried to capture that look on camera, but always seem to miss it. I guess it's a look meant not to be captured on film.

Active
This girl defines the word. She has so much energy, though she does know how to contain it. I think all the years in a crate just caused her to explode out and when she is free, she is free. Her most fun thing now is running up the red sand mounds I point out to her. She is so proud of herself when she reaches the top, and just surveys her realm. The realm of freedom. Of course, yesterday on her mad dash up the hill, she loses her collar at the top, and guess who had to climb up there and get it. Me and all the other dogs! We were exhausted. Even Annie, the little IG went up with us.
If Marm doesn't get a chance to do her free run during the day, then she takes herself outside and runs around the house with a stuffed toy in her mouth - so happy with herself, and her joy of life.

Smart
She just knows things, and thinks in advance and is always alert and looking. When Marm holds herself still, I know to look where she is looking, and I know I'll see something I wouldn't have seen if not for her keenness.
She also is so in tune with what you tell her, that she is very aware when her behavior is inappropriate, or not wanted. I only have to say her name a certain way, and she is all contrite and by my side. Like when she goes too far up the mountain, and I have to ask her to return.

Marmy, Swarmy - She's a really rare girl - beautiful, smart, silly, fun, affectionate - and we're waiting for that rare home that will have the honor of loving her.

Marmalade's a Nut

So here is Marm, soaking in the 55 degree weather out here in southern Utah. Not a care in the world, such a good girl, so obediant, so sweet......

And here's the living room floor. What is that on the floor? Are those little poops left as a surprise for me? On closer inspection, I see that they are NUTS. I have a bowl of them with a nutcracker sitting on that coffee table. Far corner - sorry for the picture, but sun was coming in, so it produced shadows, but I wanted set the scene of naughtiness.

Here's a close up of the nut. It's a walnut, and all the meat has been eaten, and the shell is left.

I leave the shell there, just so when Marm comes back in, she sees the result of her sneaky attack, and I can have a conversation with her about it. And what does she think of it? Absolutely nothing. She just lays down right next to the nut shells. Totally letting me know that all is OK with the world, and she's very glad I have those nuts out for when she is hungry.

Not giving those shells a thought, she's wondering more about what's going on outside. So I go back to work, leaving her to her shells.

And then I hear this noise. Loud noises, continual noises, and I run out to the living room, and Marm is happily and busily now sampling a hazelnut. I grab my camera and get blackmail pictures of her. She really has been practicing, as she deftly gets that nut open, and gets the meat out. She truly is a nut case!

Some times you feel like a nut.....

Walking with the Marm
Daily walks are some of what Marm lives for. (That and food!) The beginning of our walk takes us past some junk.

Here's Marm contemplating the pipes.

She just knows that rabbits are hiding inside. And she's trying to figure out her best plan of attack. "Do I put my nose in there, will my body fit,

I just know there are some little animals in there waiting for me to play with them."

Beauty has just told Marm that she is not sticking her head in those pipes, but Marm can if she wants to.

Marm is focused. She can be a very focused girl.

Now Marm thinks our walk has truly started, and there is Marm on top of that hill again.

She loves me to pretend I'm going to run up this hill, and then she motors to the top - Queen of the Hill, and surveys her realm.

Here she is starting down the hill. She comes down that hill, willy-nilly, and is always just so proud of herself and her stellar athletic abilities.

We've done the hill, and now it's time to do the wash. This is Marm heading into the wash with the rest of us.

Here's Marm running pell-mell ahead of us in the wash. That's her bum in the distance.

Here's Marm up out of the wash, while we are still trudging along inside it.

We'll just never keep up with the Marm girl. A bundle of energy, joy and love, she can just never get enough of her walks.

All animals except man know that the ultimate of life is to enjoy it - Samuel Butler

The Chair

There's something about this chair. And what it symbolizes in the world of greyhounds at my home. This is an oversized green chair in my bedroom bought at a clearance center. I've always loved oversized chairs, and never had one, and when I added on a bedroom, I had this bay window spot that was just begging for a big chair and ottoman to loll around in with a good book.

I have never sat in that chair. EVER. It's been three years.

Every night, Beauty follows me into the bedroom, and gets in her chair. There's never been any question of this. Her Chair, Her Sleeping Spot at night. Her Chair.
No one is in the bedroom during the day. The bedroom is where we go at night.

But lately, Marm has started to hang out in THE chair. First it started during the day. When I'd be looking for Marm, she'd usually be in the bedroom in that chair.

Marm really really likes that chair. But Beauty doesn't like that Marm really really likes that chair.

So now every night, I have to ask Marm to get out of the chair, so Beauty can sleep in it.

And Marm, because she is such a good girl, and listens to me so well, S-L-O-W-L-Y gets out of the chair, but not before she stretches and yawns and makes a really big deal about it. One week, this went on every single night. So one night I turned to Beauty and said - "Let's let Marm have the chair just one night. She really wants it, sweetie. You can sleep in my bed with me."

So I put Beauty in my bed, made her oh-so-comfy, and went to sleep...kind of. Within the first half hour, Beauty was off my bed, and pacing the bedroom. Looking at the other 4 dog beds, and then just staring at Marm. I'm a very light sleeper, and she made sure I was aware of every single stare. That went on ALL NIGHT LONG.

We were all glad when the new day arrived. That night about 6:30 pm I realized I had not seen Beauty in a while. I called her name, and she didn't come running. I went out and checked the Guest House thinking I may have closed her in there by mistake. I checked the car to make sure she hadn't stayed in the car. I walked around my 2.5 acres - but no Beauty. Panic started to set in. She's no spring chicken anymore, and who knows what kind of hurt she could be in. But before panic became full-blown, I walked into my bedroom. And there was Beauty in THE CHAIR.

There was NO WAY she was leaving that chair and not getting it to sleep in that night. Who knows how long she'd been in that chair during that afternoon making sure that Marm couldn't claim it. I stood there shaking my head and laughing. Ahhh, the things they tell you....my silly girls. Someday I will claim my chair back.

The Accident
This is Marm doing one of two things she does best. Relaxing fully and completely. I've never seen a greyhound cockroach as completely as she cockroachs. The other thing Marm does well is run. One of the reasons I have not found a home for her, is that this girl needs her exercise to be happy. And that exercise needs to be off leash. She is more like a regular dog than any other greyhound that has come through here. Taking any greyhound off leash is always playing roulette, however. Marm, in her over 2 years here, has never had one accident, one scratch from being off leash. She has always been very secure in where she runs, and how she runs. Until 2 weeks ago, right after the Gathering.

I hadn't been able to take the dogs for their daily runs for a week or so. They were chomping at the bit. It was Friday, and I had some people coming over to help me move yet more boxes, and only had 1/2 hour. I started to walk the dogs around the yard, but they ran right to the car, hopping and hoping and I just couldn't refuse them. I threw them in the car, and drove a couple of minutes away to a big barb wire fenced field of cows. We were having a nice walk right along side the fence, when a rabbit popped up in front of Marm's nose and ran through the wire. Marm followed as I screamed NO.

She didn't go far, as she dislocated her back leg, and tore up her front legs immediately. We were about 1/2 mile from the car. She weighs about 68 lbs.

But before I could even get her to the car, I had to get her on my side of the barbed fence. And this fence was taut, and unforgiving. She had stopped screaming and was hopping towards me. I tried to spread the fence so she would have more room to go through, but only managed to gash my arm. I don't even remember how she got through, but she did. She had to hop through a very small opening, on three legs, two of which were streaming blood, as the 'broken' one was off in an errant direction.

I picked her up, and carried her most of the rest of the way. She didn't emit one sound until she got in the car, and tried to lay down. This was 9 am in the morning. Best Friends wouldn't see me until 1 pm and that was unacceptable, so I took Marm to the new vet in town.

The Kanab Vet, after consulting with Dr. Weir, and against her advice, put a cast on Marm's (still swelling) leg. We had xrayed and she felt that it was a dislocation with no fracture. She also completely stitched up the front leg which we had asked her not to do. I spent the night awake with Marm as swelling continued everywhere, and I feared for loss of circulation. I left numerous messages for the Kanab vet all night, and finally reached her at 6:30 am. Of course, I had been talking with Heather (Dr. Weir) most of the night, and as long as her toes weren't turning purple, and oozing we had some time.

At 7 am I was at Kanab vet and it took 1 hour to get the cast off. We then wrapped it and put this John Henry or Henry John or some such thing around her. It was ridiculous and didn't fit Marm and made more swelling for her under her haunches. We took that off within the day, and just double wrapped the leg for stability. I then called Vegas to make an appointment with a surgeon.

It took me three days to get a hold of a surgeon, and on Tuesday I was in Las Vegas for a consult. Wednesday was surgery, and Marm did have some small bones chips, but it was mostly dislocation on just one side, so Dr. Pelsue opted for sewing of the ligments, and then an external fixature around the hock area to stablize. We stayed in Vegas until Friday to make sure healing was going OK, and we've been home since then.

I've mostly been trying to keep Marm quiet, and not licking her stitches. It's hard to do with my anxious, intense, let-me-run girl. We just now are getting to sleep through the night with only one wake up. It's 4 weeks of NO exercise. Then 4 weeks of leash exercise, and the fixature can come off. Then it's another 4 weeks of minimal exercise. Yeah, right. We will do the best we can. Marm is getting pretty testy about having to wear the muzzle most of the time so she won't do damage to her healing. I'm getting pretty testy about her getting testy. But all should be well in the future.

On a brighter note, here is That Little White Dog doing what she does best - burying her head in the dishes and cleaning them all with that little tongue.

We Miss Marm
Oh our Marmie... Her exuberance, though at times a bit much, is sorely missed. The house is very silent with all us Golden Oldies here. Unfortunately, Shalise was not able to get me pictures in time to scan and show you, but I do have a few pictures from the day I brought her to Salt Lake City to stay with Shalise to get better.

Marm making herself right at home on Shalise and Doug's bed. Shalise and Doug currently care for 4 other greyhounds. Cinnamon, Jessie, Red, Ringo.

Here we are at Shalise's regular vet in Heber City. Shalise has Cinnamon in her lap, because Cinnamon is a VERY BIG BABY about going to the vet. Cinnamon is very very tied to her Momma's apron strings. Marm is taking the vet visit in stride which is a very good thing. At that visit, he recommended we bring Marm to a specialist he knew in SLC, Dr. Smith. Three days after I left, Shalise took Marm to him, and that is when we found out that things weren't good. He feels that the fixator was:
1. Put in twice2. Should never have been put in3. Caused bone infection4. A piece of the fixator is broke off in her leg
We are devastated at this news on so many levels. And we are still not sure of where it will all come out, and how Marm will be. Dr. Smith took out the fixator, and has had Marm on Clavamox for the past 2 months. He doesn't want to do anything until he feels the bone infection is healing first. while Marm is running around and being happy, she is not putting any weight on that leg, and does yelp in pain at times, so Shalise will be seeing him this week with Marm.

In the meantime Marm is getting to know her new brothers and sisters. Ringo is her favorite because she can beat up on him, and there is nothing Marm likes more than to pick on a boy. Ringo is a 1 year old puppy, that likes the girls to pick on him. So Marm and Jessie chase him around the yard. He in turn annoys the hell out of Marm when she is in her recliner, playing Queen. The above picture is Ringo watching Jessie lay in a very deep hole she dug in their sandbox. Below is Big Red. He was rescued with Annie - you remember that little white dog that thinks she's a dishwasher, and likes to put her head in pots and clean them. Red can't get up on his own anymore, and spends his days demanding that Shalise carry him from floor to outside and back again. She is a very obliging nurse.

This is Sara Lee on the outside deck chair, while Marm is wondering where HER chair is, and giving Sara Lee the - 'get out of my chair you B**** look'. You can see Jessie's head peeking out on the opposite chair. I took Sara Lee on this trip to see if she would be able to go xcountry with the Gang. Though she was OK in the car - she didn't move one muscle for 6 hours - which while a good thing on one level, really means she doesn't like the car, and it does stress her out to be in new situations constantly. So we found a really good home for her with a young guy, Fudd, that she can boss and pal around with. She's very happy, and we miss her sweet little face and joy of life around here, too. The below photo is Marm giving up on waiting for Sara Lee to get off the deck chair.

OUR FIRST RV TRIP
Beauty, Winslow, Annie and my RV trip was...well, it was what it was. I found out that driving a RV is not my most favorite thing to do. It is big, and it rattles, and it's unweildy, and it doesn't go as fast as a car, and it costs a lot of money for gas - but it does have a traveling bathroom which is a really good thing when you drink a lot of water in the car. All three of my dogs adore the car and traveling, so I thought they would really enjoy the RV, but that was an incorrect assumption.

I made all the beds up in the back, so Beauty would have one bed, and Winslow the other. Annie I figured could curl up in the front seat in her leopard dog bed. Well all the dogs wanted the front seat, and it became the musical seat. If one moved from it, another got in it. In this picture you can see Winslow's feet on one bed, Beauty has claimed the front seat, and Annie isn't sure where she wants to hang out.

Here is Beauty in the front seat, with Annie's bed propped on top of the TV squished in the front space of the front seat. There is also a cooler between the seats with a dog blanket on it, so there is a bit more room to stretch out on the bucket seat. I lugged that TV across country, with visions of quiet evenings watching videos in the campgrounds - HAH - I never once had the time to take out and plug the damn thing in and watch a movie.

Here is Winslow squeezed into Annie's dog bed trying to be comfortable. At times I'd hit some bad roads - like every road back East is in that category - and cabinets would swing open, and things would fall down from the sky. Winslow, or Chicken Little, as I dubbed him for the trip would then bolt off the bed, and leap on top of Annie trying to squeeze into her little dog bed on the front seat on top of her. He didn't even flinch as she attacked him with her few measly teeth going right for the veins in the legs. I'm yelling and trying to keep the rig on the road at 75 mph, and dogs are playing musical seats. It was a zoo.

This is Winslow saying - Are you talking to me?

Needless to say, I will not be taking all three dogs to Dewey. I'm also trying to talk myself out of taking the rig, but I think I'll need the room. Always an adventure, even if not a relaxing one.

Morning Hikes
We take a morning hike most days, and everyone is off leash. There is a dirt road around the outskirts of our golf course that is surrounded by sage and red rock. The dogs adore these jaunts.

I adore them too. The pleasure of seeing them let loose. Run for the fun of it, the freedom of it, the joy in it. Though I have my heart in my throat for some of the walk, especially when they are off running after some imaged friend, I can't deny them this pleasure.

Marm most enjoys these times. She's like those wound up toy tops that spin in a dizzying circle, so full of themselves and tight in their motion. She'll get down on all fours, wired like a spring, and then just burst out - at me, at the ground, at the air. When she does this freedom dance, she leaps over sage and suspends herself in the air, like a gazelle, poetry in motion.

A camera in slow motion couldn't do her justice, as her beautifully taut body flies over red-dusted ground, searching for adventure. She is a rare greyhound, the kind who will come immediately when I call, as her desire to please overrides her natural instinct to chase. So when I give the call - Mar…ma…lade in full throat - she takes the fastest path back to me, those leaps a joy to behold.

Lately she has decided that climbing to the highest peak is a joy she must experience, and she powers herself up these dirt-filled hills, to stop and survey her kingdom. She always looks back at me, just to make sure she's not getting herself in trouble being up there. And as soon as I call she's hurtling down the hill, back at my side, her body expressing all the pleasure in her adventure. Asking me if I don't want to run up that hill and survey the vista with her.

I don't worry much about Marm hurting herself. For the 8 months she has been with me, she has seldom nicked herself on these outside adventures. She just seems to know how to move, when to move, where to move.

Yesterday, Marm found a deer leg. It had been there for a long time, but she proudly came running back at me, leg in mouth. I yelled, "drop it" - and with confusion and hurt, she dropped it at my feet. "But, Mom, look at this wonderful thing I found. Aren't you proud?" her body and eyes said. "It's lovely, Marm, but I think it looks better in this tree," I responded.

And so, until we find Marm her forever home, she'll run free here. Giving me and herself pleasure in the freedom that comes in being happy.

Tour of Greyhound Gang Yard
This month I thought Marm would take you on her tour around our 2.5 acres.
This is the path heading up the driveway to the road. We walk this every day, but particularly when garbage needs to be dragged the length of the driveway to await the garbage men that come every Tuesday. Here, Annie, Beauty and Marm have helped me bring weeds to the top of the driveway so they will be ready and waiting for the truck that comes to pick them up. The girls always help me with the chores. Winslow always stays back at the house on his bed. Typical male.

After we've hauled weeds down the long, stone covered driveway, we then walk around the property checking for debris. This property was definitely a former Anasazi ruin, thousands of years ago, and Marm is very good at looking for artifacts. She's always checking out the nooks and crannies around the sage brush, and has discovered many a bunny, bird and broken shard in her travels around the yard.

Marm can find fun anywhere she goes. Her enthusiasm for a walk around the yard knows no bounds, and with just a little bit of encouragement - like Go, Marm, Go - she takes off and sprints around sage, and flies in freedom and fun.

Marm has a beautiful body, and is especially proud of her derriere. She has this very entertaining habit, that occurs on all walks we do. Some greyhound people call it trancing. I call it something else, and at the risk of offending I won't say the word - though it involves pleasure. She will get near a bush, and then start moving in slow motion, as her body brushes the bush. One paw in the air, slowly moving through it, and then the other paw - all as if a movie camera has slowed down everything. And the look on her face is priceless. She has gone somewhere lovely, and if you call her out of it, she almost seems to get embarrassed that she was caught in such a pleasurable state. She's a girl that knows how to enjoy life.

When our sojourn around the yard is over, then it's back to the house, and a drink of water with Winslow. Who's happy to see us, and has been having a siesta the whole time the girls were working.

11.
This last month I spent going cross country with Beauty and the RV. I got to see Marmy-Swarm on my way out of Utah and she is so happy in her new home, and I was so happy to see her so happy. She didn't know what to do once she realized it was me. She was wiggling that body of hers, and running back and forth between Shalise and I, and making mewling sounds, as she conveyed her excitement. You could tell she didn't want to hurt either one's feelings, as she'd run and lean against me and then run and lean against Shalise. Doug, Shalise's husband, was very worried I was going to take Marm back, and he tried to take her out of my sight before I'd even spent any time with her. It was clear that Marm loved her new home and new pals, and that is always the best feeling when you've helped make a greyhound happy.
I'll have pictures of Marm next month, as Shalise has them at the developer, and I'll get them in November.

The news: Marm had her entire leg amputated October 17th. Shalise said on the way to the doctor, she sat in that front car seat like she owned it. Shalise now calls her "Stumpy-Bum" and Marm wags her little tail as she is so excited with her new nickname. Just yesterday Shalise was calling her this name, and clapping, and Marm was jumping on one leg, and swatting at Shalise with her front paws.
She goes to the doctor to get stitches out November 1 and for her first real checkup after the amputation.
The 4th morning after her surgery she was ready to play with Ringo. Shalise wouldn't let her, and until stitches are out Shalise won't give her total free rein. She's getting lots of exercise though, as she does charge out when Shalise lets her guard down, and then Shalise calls her and she charges back. Plus she gets daily walks on leash. But no running in the yard and beating up Ringo just yet.
She's acting as if nothing is wrong. She jumps up into favorite recliner chair, demands her attention and is acting perfectly normal. Her bruising and pooling of blood is gone. She's got about 1/2 of her hair to grow back on her bum, and then she'll be all covered for the cold winters in northern Utah. Beautiful, photogenic Marm....

THE TRIP
Here are some bits and pieces from the trip - 9/30 - 10/26.
The first few days I spent in Utah and Colorado. Seeing Marm and visiting Heather's (Dr. Weir) current abode. She had told me she basically lived in a kennel, and had not been encouraging me to visit.. I hesitated about sharing these pictures, but it is evidence of what those that care about greyhounds do to make a difference. My life became entwined with Heather's when I spoke briefly with her one day in 1997 when I was at CSU for Slim's spinal surgery. A woman with 4 greyhounds in a Suburu, with whom I had conversation. We had no clue then that we would ever meet again. And here we are.
When Almost Home for Hounds is a reality, Heather's life might get a wee bit easier, and she'll be better able to rescue more dogs. This is a photo of the 80 acres bought in Nunn, CO for $110,000 to build AHH on. It's very flat. Heather is currently in conversations with contractors. What we thought would be $300,000 for the building is now fast approaching $400,000. So it goes. I have a lot of money to raise. :)

Here's another shot of the road Heather will live on. It doesn't have a name, only a number. That's the RV that Beauty and I drove for the month. It's a lot easier to handle with just one dog.

Heather has been living in a very adorable older home, owned by her mom in Loveland, Colorado on a busy street. One small room has crates and some kitties in it. Another has crates and stuff in it. The porch has all the food, and the equipment to spay and neuter. The main room has crates on either side with lots of dog stuff piled on top. The yard is small, and is pooper scooped 2 times a day, and redone with lime every few weeks. Neighbors are 10 feet away.

She's going to be upset when she sees I took a picture of her bed. As you can see it's right out there with all the crates. Most dogs were outside when I took this picture, it's not common to find only one dog on the bed. I'll be updating the web site soon with more information about the fundraising efforts for AHH. You can read about it, here.

Here's Dad. And that's Beauty's head in the front seat. She loved being navigator, and loved the attention of being with me 24/7. I stopped in CT, before going on to Dewey. I had sent some Get Up & Go items there that I needed to pick up. Leaves were just starting to change, and my Dad has a green thumb, and the yard was full of Dahlias and Asters and many other wonderous flowers. I packed every nook and cranny of the RV with things to sell at Dewey. About $6000 was raised for the hounds. I was a bit disappointed as I went home with lots of product, even though I discounted all the items. People are so much more interested in glitzy items vs. something that might actually help their dog. Oh, that sounds awful :), but we just keep converting people, one dog at a time.

I have to apologize for this month. I just didn't learn my camera well enough to download pictures when on the road this month, and so there are very few pictures, and I appear to have lost some of them too. I often feel like I need technical help full time lately to run the Gang and the web site efficiently.
I'm thinking of discontinuing the Greyt Angel program as of 2004. My expectation for the program was to provide well written, thoughtful essays with pictures for the generous people donating monthly to read them. I've been unable to find the time to write well, and the technical side of picture taking and putting them up on the web still confounds me. I feeling I'm not giving my Greyt Angels their money worth of story and pictures every month, and not doing as good a job as I could with it. And that's not acceptable to me.
I'm also concentrating on fundraising, and don't have any other dogs here for adoption except Regis - a return of 12 years old. He's pretty arthritic, and needs acupuncture a few times a month, plus joint supplements and Adequan shots, plus is getting even more teeth pulled tomorrow, so I don't think he's going anywhere. Writing about dogs I have up for adoption becomes a bit problematic without dogs. Heather always has dogs up for adoption that the Gang helps pay for, but her time is very limited, and she can't take pictures etc. So I'll let you know by the end of the year about the program. I've been so appreciative of your support, and don't want to abuse that. Some of you have been with the program since its inception, and that relationship is very special to me.

Happy Howl-oween to all.

Our Howl-oween Tribute
The best I can do for a Halloween picture. Winslow as Sonny Bono, Beauty as Marilyn Monroe, and Marm as Penelope Cruz. Beauty prefers her Cher look on the front page in October.

This is Marm's latest project. I was away for a few weeks, and she did not get the exercise she feels she must have. So in order to keep herself busy when I was gone, she decided to take a trip herself. This is the beginning of the hole to China.

This is another view of the hole, which is about 2 feet deep so far. In this picture, Marm is disavowing any knowledge of the hole.

Winslow and Commander are checking out the hole on another day. It is now absolutely big enough to contain 2- 3 greyhounds, and Winslow is doing just a little bit of rearranging before he gets comfortable in this new resting spot, courtesy of Marm.

Beauty has come by to visit to see what all the excitement is all about. She is not impressed.

Rosa, the new addition to the Gang is a bit more interested to see what country she can reach in this hole. It's not quite China, but she thinks she can get to Europe with no problem. Rosa, the staghound, arrived from the wilds of New Mexico, and she's a dog that likes to travel to far and exotic places.

Working that hard, requires sleeping this hard. We love our Marm.

Marm's Amputation
Shalise sent these twelve pictures down from Salt Lake City which track Marm's amputation odyssey. This backtracks a bit from last month's story of Marm's after amputation antics, but provides pictures of her.
These are from before the surgery. Dr. Heather Weir, who I featured last month and is spearheading Almost Home for Hounds, rescues greyhounds from the farms. They stay in her home until all medical work, socialization and profiling is done, and she then transports them to a few adoption groups in the West. This was a trip she was making with a stop in Salt Lake City, and onto Reno from Ft. Collins with 10 dogs for Greyhound Friends in CA. They met her in Reno. Shalise and Marm went to get her opinion on the amputation during her stop-over in SLC.

From Shalise: "The National Abilities Center in Park City was allowing Heather to use one of their fenced areas to pee pee the dogs in transport to Nevada. Marm just finished her visit with Heather and wanted to play with the van doggies in transport. "

After one surgeon's opinion, and two vets we trusted, we knew that amputation was the choice we had to make for Marm.
These are pre-surgery pictures from the week and day before surgery.

Marmalade on her last hike before her surgery.

Marm and her friend Jessebelle catching up on a little shut eye.

Marmalade getting her bath the night before her surgery.

Marmalade warming up after her bath as she finishes her good girl treat.
These are all Post Surgery:

Leaving the vet after having her leg amputated. This is 1 pm, the day after her surgery.

Close view of surgical area.

Nothing prevents Marm from sleeping her in favorite position. This is day two after surgery,

These are day three after surgery.

And nothing prevents Marm, and so many greyhounds like her, from accepting what life throws their way and living it to the fullest. I called Shalise and Doug today to see how their holidays went and get a Marm update, and the first thing out of Doug's mouth when he found out it was me on the phone was, "Marm loves me, you know."
Everything that touches your heart make a difference.

14.
Here's Marm waiting for the call that it is walk time. This is the futon couch outside the Guest House. This couch is usually owned by Winslow and Annie, so this is a rare shot of Marm lounging on it. We usually take our walks in the morning, as soon as I've gone through the emails from the night before. In the summer that's around 6 am because of the heat. In the winter, sometimes it's Noon before we hit the trail cause it's too cold otherwise.

Our walk starts. We usually take a dirt path off of the nine-hole golf course in Kanab.There are three routes we could go on, the most popular is to the right. That's Marm checking out everything around her.

A little further down the dirt road, she's always checking ahead to see what she can see.

And she's gone. Quick as a jack rabbit, she's bounding through the dirt and brush always scanning, always looking. To see them leap and bound is poetry in motion. Marm has never hurt herself (knock on wood), she just always seems to know where to land, and where to run. Whereas Beauty is always an accident waiting to happen.

But there really wasn't much to see after all. Just someone leaving their calling card.
Hey, guys, come check out this spot. Beauty has arrived, and is checking things out too.

Winslow, Beauty and Marm have a meeting of the minds.

Marm and Winslow never need coats. Beauty and Annie always do. You don't see a picture of Annie here because she HATES having her picture taken. She is so funny about it. If I am carrying the camera she stays way behind me, and if I turn towards her she stops and looks away. It just cracks me up.

And here's Marm after the walk is done.
Addendum: We're waiting on 22 greyhounds coming from CO today. Dr. Weir is driving them down. And will continue onto Las Vegas in a couple of days. A group from CA is coming to take some, and Greyhound Rescue and Adoption in Vegas is taking some, and the Gang will foster a 9 yr old gal, and a 1 yr old boy with all his toes sprained on one foot, so he's in a splint for a few months.
And not like it's enough getting ready for all those guests, we also lost our water for the past 3 days. Marm was very helpful with all the hole digging we did to try and find where the water break was. But you know from a prior story how good she is with holes. All that energy - someone should harness it.

15.

Marm vignettes
I've been taking Marm to different people's homes to watch her when I go away so she will learn to adapt to new situations. She isn't a big fan of change, she likes her status quo, and she's been with me a bit longer than most now, and I need to remind her that change will happen to her when we find the right home.

Brewer adventure

When I go into Vegas, I stay with Carla and Chris. They not only adopted my dogs, they adopted me too. And I was the most special-needs case. When they need to get away, I also baby-sit for them. Marm, Beauty and Winslow come with me, and since I'm just there for a day and a half, we join Lady, Foster and Smiles at the Brewer/Lescosky household. I go out for a few hours to run errands. When I return, only six dogs greet me at the door. Marm is gone.
I first think POOL. But there was no access to the outside pool. Then I think fight, but no one, and no walls have blood all over them. Then I think she got locked in a room upstairs. I run up there, but no Marm. And then I go into the garage, and she is in the back seat of Carla's Isuzu Rodeo. She'd leapt from the garage floor through the back window to the back seat of the car. However, the back seat was up, and so she landed all the way down on the floor of the car. And there she was her little head peering through the bottom of the window. I can only think she was trying to find me, and knew I'd gone in the car. Or else felt safer there.

At Home with the Gang

She knows how to relax. Flat out on her back, with all legs splayed. Front legs up straight to the heavens, back legs flat out to the floor - all she wants is you to rub that tummy and massage her. Give her a spot and she is there - totally relaxed. To think this girl lived in a crate for three years of her adoptable life. She is taking total advantage of having all the room she needs to stretch out.
Top Dog

Marm so wants to be THE girl. But Beauty is THE girl at the Gang. However, Marm keeps trying. If Beauty leaves the front seat of the car - Marm is there in a flash. If Beauty is not on my bed at night, Marm is there, trying to hide under the covers she has so nicely arranged for herself. She'll push all the other dogs out of the way to be the one that gets the attention. It's just another reason why she needs her own home, so she can be the queen. Because she so deserves to be queen Marm.

Listening

Marm is a great listener. You call her name and she is there. You tell her to do something and she does it. She has such a desire to please you, that your wish is her command. I wish I had more time to work with her, as she would probably make a great agility dog or lure courser. She is so alert, and so watchful of her human. Her every movement is to do what you would like her to do. I adore the way she cocks her head at you when she is listening. She tilts it ever so slightly, and looks straight at you with all her intelligence, and you just have to hug her.

Excitable

Marm hardly knows how to contain herself. When it's time to go for our walks she is whirling and twirling, and stepping on my toes as I try to put my sneakers on. If I'm not fast enough in dressing, then there are the little love nips on my arms - "hurry, hurry, hurry" her tight, wound up body insists.
When we don't get in enough of a run everyday, then Marm exercises herself by running around and around the house, and jumping over the flower pots that are in the middle of her run, and dashing through the bushes, and doing turns on a dime. She has a lot of energy that I constantly need to dissipate in order for her to stay happy and calm. Exercise is such a key ingredient to these dogs' happiness. It doesn't have to be a lot, but it has to happen as daily as possible.

Marm is such a wonderful character. Full of life, and love and intelligence, just waiting to give all that and more to her forever home.

16.

13. Shalise sent these twelve pictures down from Salt Lake City which track Marm's amputation odyssey. This backtracks a bit from last month's story of Marm's after amputation antics, but provides pictures of her. These are from before the surgery. Dr. Heather Weir, who I featured last month and is spearheading Almost Home for Hounds, rescues greyhounds from the farms. They stay in her home until all medical work, socialization and profiling is done, and she then transports them to a few adoption groups in the West. This was a trip she was making with a stop in Salt Lake City, and onto Reno from Ft. Collins with 10 dogs for Greyhound Friends in CA. They met her in Reno. Shalise and Marm went to get her opinion on the amputation during her stop-over in SLC. From Shalise: "The National Abilities Center in Park City was allowing Heather to use one of their fenced areas to pee pee the dogs in transport to Nevada. Marm just finished her visit with Heather and wanted to play with the van doggies in transport. " After one surgeon's opinion, and two vets we trusted, we knew that amputation was the choice we had to make for Marm. These are pre-surgery pictures from the week and day before surgery. Marmalade on her last hike before her surgery. Marm and her friend Jessebelle catching up on a little shut eye. Marmalade getting her bath the night before her surgery. Marmalade warming up after her bath as she finishes her good girl treat. These are all Post Surgery: Leaving the vet after having her leg amputated. This is 1 pm, the day after her surgery. Close view of surgical area. Nothing prevents Marm from sleeping her in favorite position. This is day two after surgery, These are day three after surgery. And nothing prevents Marm, and so many greyhounds like her, from accepting what life throws their way and living it to the fullest. I called Shalise and Doug today to see how their holidays went and get a Marm update, and the first thing out of Doug's mouth when he found out it was me on the phone was, "Marm loves me, you know."

Hound Stories - Smiles

2001-01-01T15:20:00.001-07:00

Smiles was born in September of 1997. He's a tall boy, still gawky and adolescent looking. He's a fawn brindle, though more fawn than brindle. He has a wide forehead, with a long nose, and very expressive, though at this time cowed eyes. No hair on this butt, I'm guessing he's about 62 lbs.

His left front foot is messed up for life -- probably fractured. It appears that he damaged the bottom growth plates on the radius and ulna (the two bones in his "arm"), which kept the joint from forming properly. The worst problem is with the ulna -- the smaller, outer bone. There's no head on the end of the bone, which is why his foot turns out -- there's nothing to keep it straight.
Smiles has not had much of a life until now, and he just doesn't know what to do -- with himself, with me, with the other dogs. His appropriate name, though we're thinking about changing it to Miles, is his reaction to trying to be liked, and doing the right thing. He pulls back those gums and displays those pearly whites, whenever you call his name. But at the moment he doesn't do it because he's happy. He does it because he wants you to know he'll do whatever you want him to do, and he's hesitant about doing anything at all.

Smiles' ingratiating smile

The first day

Smiles came right up to me, but there were 15 greyhounds running around, and his first love, Heather, was right there. The van pulled out, and Smiles ran right into the pasture where all the dogs had been. He sniffed and walked and ran around the pasture, looking and looking. But no one was there. I tried to approach him to provide comfort and tell him all would be OK, and he started to run from me and cry at the same time. My heart was breaking. I didn't push the contact, I just kept talking to him and calling his name, while I played with the other dogs.
He eventually wandered part way over, and parked himself some distance away in the grass. Watching our every move, and moving himself if it looked like I was going to approach him. I would check on him every hour, and invariably find him either laying outside in the grass, or hiding in the dog trailer.

Settling in fast in the overstuffed chair
I got the swamper hooked up so it would be cool in there, and brought in food and water bowls. He had six dog beds to choose from, and was doing OK. Just feeling confused and lost.
That night, I physically brought him into the house, and he did lie down when we all went to bed. At five in the morning, I got up to check on things, and he was outside. Old habits die hard.

Day Two

He started to take the daily walks with us around the property. He started to come into the house on his own and settle down. He stopped jumping up all the time when I went over to pet him. He actually searched me out for some loving. He currently is behind me while I'm at the computer on a dog bed -- having decided the dog bed nearest the dog door is where he wants to be. It always amazes me how a little love is just soaked in by these guys. They beg for it without begging for it, and then take it in and eventually give it back ten-fold.

Settling in faster in MY bed!

Day Three

I called Heather to find out a bit more about him, and why he was so tentative the last couple of days. He broken that leg on a farm. They were going to put him down. One of the employees took him home, and kept him outside with her pitbull for a year. Then she had a baby, and no longer wanted to have dogs around. Heather found out and took him in.
Heather was really the first home, and personal attention, he'd ever had. So he was going through a bit of a depression when she and all the other dogs left. He had kept going to the pasture and doghouse, even hanging out in it, versus with me and the other dogs in the house. That was where Heather and the other dogs had spent some time when they were here, so he was looking for them.
But as with all men, his fickleness didn't take long to manifest. He is now in love with me. And I don't harbor any thoughts that he won't be in love with someone else very soon.

Day Four

He still follows me everywhere and is very attentive to what I want. But he is now playing with all the stuffed toys. He has found the basket, and he has taken out every single toy, and they are all over the yard and all over the house. And if I try to put them back into the wire basket, he takes them right out.

Love those toys
He's also starting to get curious and is putting his mouth on anything not tacked down. My sneakers go outside, my fig newtons get eaten, muzzles move around -- anything. And he's so adorable about it!
I can't get him in the car yet. I figure I'll let him settle in before I work on him with that. I also want his first trip in the car to be for a walk, not the vet.

Day Five

This morning Beauty got out of bed, and Smiles jumped in, rotated once, and settled down right next to me with a sigh. He is really feeling at home. And he is really turning into a friendly guy. The Leslie's from Ohio came to stay in my guesthouse, and Smiles was their meeter and greeter. He is just being Mr. Friendly.

It's not Love...
He's going to be a keeper for someone. I need to cat test him, though Heather said he was not cat safe. But we'll give it one more try. I have a cat that will scratch a dog, so that usually discourages any bad behavior by the dog.

Chapter 2

This boy has totally settled in. And what an adolescent he is!

Bed

He has to sleep in the bed every night now. He totally hogs it. He is big and filling out. About 75 lbs. right now. He places his head somewhere on my legs, and I am pinned in for the evening. You can move him all around though, push at him with your legs, and he never makes a peep. Just wants to sleep with you. During the night, he has to change his position a lot too. And it always is to get closer to you. How endearing is that? When a big butt lands right on your left shoulder because he just can't get close enough to you. This is love...

Since Beauty is my girl, and she sleeps with me at night, I have to let her in the bed first, and then let Smiles in. I'm not sure she understands that he is just too insistent to deal with, and it's easier to just let him sleep in the bed.

What Smiles does if I tell him "No Bed!"
The few times I've not allowed him to sleep in the bed, he's made himself such a baby. Whining and pacing and whining and putting his paw on the bed. He'll go lay down on the dog bed with much noise. And then sometime in the evening he will start it all over again. Yes, it's just easier to let him sleep with me. And he is warm and he is just too sweet.
He's scared now though that I didn't let him sleep a couple of nights in the bed, and so he gets in the bed about 2 hours before bedtime and stakes out his claim. No lie. He is not going to miss one night. Guess he'll need a home where sleeping on the bed is OK!

Waiting for me to say "Wanna go in the Car?"

Car

He loves the car now, and is very good in it. I can take him on errands, and he lies down with the other dogs and waits for me while I go to the Post Office or the bank. Because he is two years old though, he still steps on Winslow's head or legs a lot. Winslow is such a good boy though, he never complains.

Walks

Loves those walks, and lets me know every morning that it is time to go. And if I don't take them -- him -- he barks and barks and whines and whines, letting me know his displeasure. He will walk off lead and stay with me, until Winslow spots something, and then he's off like a flash. But once the running has stopped, he turns right around and runs right back to me -- his new Momma.

It's a nose-warmer, not a hat!

His eyes

I'm going to try to describe these eyes. He has a broad forehead, and the huge eyes to go with it. Not only are the eyes big, but they angle back, giving him, when he gazes at you, a look of complete concentration. His amber pools have huge pupils, and when he looks straight at you, he doesn't break the gaze. That gaze is both straight and hesitant. He's always asking, "Do you love me as much as I love you? I love you, you know." He is such an expressive boy -- with his eyes, his body, his barking.

Do you love me?

His talking

As a youngster, he feels it is his duty to make sure I understand when it is time to go out, which is most of the time. He will bark and bark and do twirlies, and throw toys around until I get dressed and take him (and everyone) out!
He is the most endearing boy, and really gets to you. He has such a need to be loved, and expresses it all the time.
He's very photogenic, and very settled in, and very lovable.

"Ain't I just too cute?"
He really needs a household that totally takes him in, and babies him and adores him. He knows he deserves to be adored!

chapter 3

A big part of my life with the dogs is our walks. They look forward to them, and so do I. We try to do one a day, usually for a couple of miles. I have a few spots, all with some hazards for greyhounds, but it's hard to find a non-hazardous place for greyhounds to walk. Cactus, twigs, rocks, barbed wire, rabbits, rattlesnakes, ditches -- you name it -- there are many hazards to greyhounds. However, in as controlled a situation as I can get, I let these guys off leash. And their personalities emerge.

Winslow

The biggest couch potato ever. He lies around at the house, and doesn't get up unless I am making peanut butter treats, or am going in the car. But when we are out on a walk, in the middle of nowhere, he is in his glory. He is yards ahead of us, ears pricked, looking everywhere for that telltale movement. He gets so far ahead, I often have to call him back to me. He'll stop, give me an exasperated look, watch me take a step or two nearer to him, and then turn and keep going. He's saying, "Ok, you got closer, you can see me - I got things to see!"

Buster

He's the old man in everything but his heart. His back end is all messed up but that doesn't stop him from moving and shaking. He's right up there keeping time with Winslow. You can tell that this boy made time in his younger years. At least when I yell Buster's name, he has the decency to turn around and run back to me -- sweetheart that he is. And Buster can really turn it on too. The couple of times I've tried to leave him home, he dashes out that dog door and beats my car out the gate. Buster is really the man about town when he is out and about. He has purpose in every movement. HE is going to be in charge and going to do it all. And his body is not going to stop him.

Smiles

He is so adolescent, and so happy with everything. He will run with Winslow and Buster, and then turn right around and run full bore to me. Then he walks by my side for a while, and then he's off again with the boys. His loyalties torn. "Be with me, and get lots of love…" "Be with them and be one of the boys…" It's just too cute -- and he can really take off, even with the leg deformed like that. He is a trickster though, as he loves to see things that aren't there, and get Buster and Winslow all worked up running after him -- after nothing.

Beauty

My baby girl. She just stays by my side. Leaping and hopping and being Beauty. She watches the boys run, but looks at me and says, "they'll be back those silly boys."

Blue

Blue pulls at the end of his leash, which is attached to his harness. He still wants to go after everything he imagines is out there. But I fell for that once, and he ended up with a fractured hock. So Blue stays on leash, and dreams.

Today Smiles decided he needed to chase a raven. And the raven decided that it wanted to be chased, and led Smiles and Buster and Winslow up and down the sage-studded red dirt. Swooping just low enough so they could see him, and teasing them into thinking they might even catch him. Wild nature met untamed hearts and the beat of freedom from wings and paws was palpable.

Today was a good day, in the company of my greyhounds.

Chapter 4

This dog really is something else. Everyday he acts so much more human, it's almost scary. I rewrote his Available For Adoption section on my Web site -- you should check that out -- it's very cute, I think, and I'm hoping I'll find someone to adopt him soon, as he really doesn't want to leave here. And the longer he stays the harder it will be.

He gives me these looks of love that are so deep, and so scorching. When I'm hugging my Beauty, he looks at me and asks, "Why don't you love me as much as you love her? Look at the way I love you," and he gives me one of his looks. That fantasy movie, "The 10th Kingdom," was on this past week, and I swear it kept making me look at Smiles and wonder if he had a spell put on him and he really was a human in a dog's clothing

I'm looking all over for him today, and he's not around me. Which is very odd for him, as he is always aware of where I am, especially when I'm giving his treats. So I'm outside in my pajamas calling his name, and there is no response. I call again. No big dog running his heart out towards me. Now I'm getting worried. This is NOT like Smiles at all. And then I hear this little peep, and I look at the sound, and there he is on the other side of the fence, in the yard of my bad neighbor. How did he get there? Did he jump the fence? How else would he get out, everything is always closed up.
So I threw on my robe and clogs and ran outside and he ran down the fence line, and as we approached the remote gate I saw that it was open just a little bit, and he had found that opening -- and being the smart boy he is, he got out, and found an opening in the other fence to go and sit near the house until I could find him.
Heart stopping and funny all at the same time.

Chapter 5

He is such an adolescent. One minute I'm laughing at him, and the next I'm yelling at him in exasperation. He is starting to express himself even more, and testing his limits too.

Some examples:

On our walks

Most of the time he has to be right next to me, plastered against my side. He's nice and tall and I can run my hand on his back when we walk. It's a very nice feeling. Then he decides he's going to run with the big boys a ways ahead of me. And he takes off like a shot, and runs past the boys making everyone think he has seen something. Everyone gets all riled up, and Smiles runs back to me, with a grin on his face, saying, "Look what I did! Aren't I clever, I got them all excited over nothing."
He does this throughout the walk, exasperating me and the other dogs who continue to believe him when he says he sees something.

In the house

He has a lot of energy, as all youngsters do. And he loves to run through the dog door, bounce off the couches and chairs, and get all the sleeping dogs snapping and growling at him before I've even gotten off my chair at the computer to stop him. He'll then pounce on the sofa, and look at me, tongue hanging out, saying, "Wasn't that fun? Can you believe how acrobatic I am?"

At night in the bed

I don't even try to not let him sleep in the bed anymore. My god, if momma's boy doesn't get to sleep in the bed, then momma and all the other dogs will not get any sleep either. Whine, whine, whine. And he is a bed hog. After all, he does believe it is his bed. He HAS to have a portion of his body on yours, or it's not sleeping together.

Those eyes

He can do those moony eyes that seem to look right at you and through you. You just have to hug and kiss him and forgive him everything when he gives you those eyes.

Thank dog this is a dog and not a guy!

Chapter 6.

This boy has been with me a long time now. I think almost a year. At first I thought he'd be an easy adoption. Gorgeous and smart, everyone would want him. But no one has really requested him, and the longer he stays with me the pickier I get about his home. This boy is only going to someone as special as he is.

When Smiles first came to me he wouldn't leave my side, was tentative with other people and insisted on sleeping with me. Well, really sleeping on top of me. He was exhibiting some very classic anxiety issues, and "velcro" dog behaviors.
He's starting some new behavior patterns, lately, that are very interesting. And indicative of him growing up.
He'll be three in September, and he doesn't have to be in the same room with me anymore. He's getting more content to stay on the overstuffed armchair, sprawled out and acting king of the world - or at least the chair, much to Beauty's chagrin.

He loves to meet other people now too. Before he was hesitant with strangers, he'd bark and run from them, as he smiled away, if they came on the property. But now he wags his tail and immediately falls in love with them and them with him. When people come to stay in my Guest House, he's the first one there and on their beds to greet them. They just adore him. And thank goodness, once in a while now, I even have some room in my bed.
But he hasn't stopped being such a snuggler. If I'm on the couch watching a video, he'll drape himself over my legs, or over my shoulder or fully on top of me if I let him. He really can't get close enough. And I don't mind that kind of adoration.

And he is just so smart. He hears when the cottage cheese container is being opened, no matter where he is. He knows all the signals about going in the car, and doing errands, and he is there bouncing up and down, insisting it's his right to go in the car every time we go somewhere.

His exuberance for life never wanes, and he has no compunction about telling me how he feels at all times. Either through whining, or barking or smiling at me - usually when I've reprimanded him for making so much noise.
But he never fails to make me smile...this Smiles boy.

Chapter 7.

I took all five dogs to the lake recently. This is Lake Powell, which is a man-made lake from Glen Canyon Dam. It is surrounded by rock, no trees, and a little beach. We went with friends who had 3 mixed breeds that love to swim. The spot we were directed to was very isolated. We walked over some desert ground, through Joshua trees and other cactus, to a little cove that lead to the water.
To get to the water, you first had to jump down about 4 feet over some rocks to get to the 6 feet of beach that bordered the lake.
Slick rocks surrounded the entire cove. The dogs were ecstatic in the sand that was above the rocks. Running circles and kicking it up. Then when I went into the water, they all stood on the rocks above me, trying to figure out how to get in.

Smiles, in particular, went farther out than all of them and looked like he was going to do a kamikaze jump into the water. I called him back, and tried to get him to come down to me. He wanted to, but was scared of the slick rock in front of him. I grabbed his collar, and got him close enough to me so I could lift him down to the sand.

He immediately ran into the water, hopping like a bunny, realized he was getting all wet, and ran back out and shook on me. Then he ran back in again, trying to jump over the water with big huge leaps to follow the other dogs that were swimming around in front of him. But as soon as he got over his head, he turned around and swam right back. He was a natural swimmer, but not having land under his feet made him very nervous.
He got to the sand, turned and looked at me with a "Why are they out there swimming, and I'm here? I want to go out there!" He then proceeded to jump back up the four-foot drop and run around in the sand, while he was all wet, agitating all the other dogs, until everyone was riled up, and then Smiles plopped down in the sand, spent.

I took this brief respite to try to swim out to my friends, but I was no sooner out of sight of the dogs, than they were all on the rock looking for me. So I swam back to the cove, and one by one each dog came over to me to lift him or her down. Except Smiles, who now jumped down into the cove, ran into the water until it was over his head, and then ran back out again.
Gus was the best swimmer, though a scaredy cat about it; Kenya the most fearless egging everyone on to keep swimming; Winslow had the worst dog paddle I've ever seen; Beauty didn't even try; and Smiles was just, well, Smiles - full of energy and life and fun!

I'm sorry I don't have pictures, but it would have been too hard to handle all of them and take pictures too. It's a day we all soon won't forget!

Chapter 8.

I can't imagine a walk without a dog. They know what walking is all about. The pleasure of wind in your face, and sand under your paws and smells at every juncture. Every part of the walk holds treasures for exploration and discovery. To the spot, right there, where Winslow is peeing. And the spot, right there, where Beauty is pawing. And the next spot, and the next. All new, all exciting, and all there for their pleasure.

Smiles is particularly fun to take on a walk, as he is always looking for mischief. He still hasn't quite learned his manners, and will impatiently jump out of the car before anyone else, unless I really lay down the law BEFORE I open the door. He'll dash out of the car, at 100 miles an hour, only to turn around on a dime, and run back to me, pogoing in front of me, while saying, "let's go, let's go, we're here, this is fun, come with me, play with me, be with me."

Smiles feels that he is my boyfriend on these walks, as he stays plastered to my side, and doesn't let any of the other dogs get close to my leg. Except when he decides to start trouble, and pretend to see something to chase, and he takes off at 100 miles an hour, and all the other dogs strive to catch him and catch what he sees, and he turns around and runs back to me, saying, "I got them this time. Nothing there, and I was the fastest. Did you see me? Aren't I the cutest?"
"No", I tell him, "you are a pain in the ass." But yes, a cute one. Aren't they all?

I have to be careful if anyone else is walking their dogs, as Smiles is still not totally trustworthy at all around other dogs. I believe because of his living with a pit bull, he has the need to get aggressive with other breeds, particularly if those other breeds are running and playing and making lots of growly noises.
I have friends I hike with, whose dogs are always tumbling and playing, like normal dogs do. I then keep Smiles on leash and muzzled with me, because if I take my attention off him for one second, and the other dogs, in play, roll near him, he has his mouth on them. It's quite disconcerting to see a snuggly, lovey dog turn into a potential lethal killer, but Smiles has that dark side to him. He does only want to please me, so I know I can stop him with a look or a word, but it always bubbles right at the surface.

So Smiles spends most of his walk trying to trip me by getting as close as he can, and constantly looking at me for reassurance that I think he is the best dog, and the best boyfriend. And why can't a girl find a guy like this dog?

Chapter 9.

Greetings From Las Vegas

Prologue

My favorite adopters, Chris and Carla, take me in whenever I go to Las Vegas. They have adopted me, in addition to two greyhounds, Lady and Foster. I have my own room and bath, and many dogs to share the bed with when I go to Vegas every month to do Gang stuff. They have been watching Smiles for me, and this is his Las Vegas story as told to Carla and Chris.

Las Vegas Vacation by Smiles

Last month I overheard Claudia say she needed a break from you-know-who. As I was pondering who this being might be, I found myself in Las Vegas.
I am presently spending time with my "other" family. Claudia jokingly says they have joint custody of me. I guess it's their turn now. Carla and Chris are good people. They love it when I smile for them and encourage me to talk to them a lot, not like Claudia who is always putting one hand on my nose, and the other to her lips and making this "shusssssh" noise. Carla is teaching me how to sing, "How Much is That Doggie in the Window." I've already mastered the "woof-woof" parts.
In addition to my singing lessons, I've also been given the very important job of "keeper of the pillows." I personally call it "King of the Pillows" and everything else, but they if they just want to call it "keeper," that's fine. I keep Chris's pillows warm for him while he's away at work. (Sometimes when he's home also.)
I share their affection with Schuylkill the Great Dane, as well as Lady and Foster, two other Greyhounds. There is also a bird and a lizard, but I'm not allowed near them. Too bad the tortoise is hibernating; I really would like to get to know him better.

My best play buddy is Lady. She loves to play - even more than I do! She likes to sneak up behind me and bite me until I chase her around and around the house - through the living room, the family room, and the kitchen. She wears me out!
Sometimes Carla sneaks me out to run errands with her. The best place I've been so far is the fire station to visit Chris at work. Fire fighters love dogs! We've also made a group outing to the dog park. It was fun running with all my friends as well as meeting new friends. I don't know why everyone got so nervous when I wanted to say "hello" to the little guys, though.

Here are some things I've learned since being here:

The top of the bed is much softer than the bottom.

Never head-butt a Great Dane.

Never lie where a Great Dane wants to sit.

The more expensive the T.V. remote control, the yummier it is.

Christmas gifts are fun to open.

Humans don't like it when you open THEIR Christmas gifts.

Swimming pools are cold this time of year.

Girl dogs fight dirty.

Couches are more comfortable when you share them with company.

And the most important thing I have learned...

Doorbell = pizza man.

Gonna sign off now, gotta go warm those pillows some more.
-- Smiles, the Vegas dog.

Chapter 10.

Smiles isn't here this month, and his presence is sorely felt. I didn't say missed, but felt. When he is here, he is a whirling, noisy dervish. If I make any move like we are going somewhere, then he gets very vocal about the fact that he is coming with me. Movements he watches for and goes ballistic over include:

Me putting on shoes

Me taking off pajamas

Me going to the bathroom

Me saying OK to get off the phone

Me getting up from the computer chair

Me picking up my wallet

He watches and waits for the cues and then goes ballistic. By ballistic I mean:

Whirling in 360's

Jumping up and down like a pogo stick

Crying - arhhhhhhh at the top of his lungs

Barking

Rooing

Breathing hard

Jumping on and off the bed

Running out the door and back in the door

Crashing into other dogs

The other dogs - Winslow, Beauty, Kenya, Summer, Possum and Al just ignore and tolerate him. They close their eyes when he goes into one of his whirling routines, as his tail whips and whips their faces. And they get out of his way when he starts running in and out of the house.
When I have 6 dogs here and Smiles - it just gets a little bit much. So he's back with Carla and Chris for a Vegas Vacation. And it is nice and quiet here today, and his presence is sorely missed.

We took a last walk around the yard today, and I tried to capture his antics. But of course, he wouldn't leave my side - so I got a picture of me looking down at him. And a picture of him sprinkling a bush - about the only time he left me. A picture of him with Kenya and Possum. And a picture of him in his throne after the walk.

I let him sleep with me the WHOLE night since he was going to be leaving. He squeezed Beauty and me into one corner of the bed, while he stretched his entire body out, with his head on one of the pillows. Of course, he had to be touching me the whole night too. Don't need the electric mattress pad on when Smiles is sleeping with me.

Chapter 11.

Pool Bum

While Kenya has been a Beach Baby, Smiles is turning into a Pool Bum. He's been vacationing with Chris and Carla, because the Gang is just full to overflowing, and they like putting up with his antics.
Smiles' days include:

Playing with Lady
Lady is very sure of what she wants when she wants it. And if she wants to play, then she will not leave you alone until you play with her. So it's a matter of do you get bitten while you're laying on the couch, or bitten while you're running around the house with her on your heels. Her favorite spots are the neck and the back of the leg. She'll just reach out and grab and hold on. Sometimes, when she tires of running after Smiles, she'll reverse direction, and then runs right into him going the opposite way. She loves to pick on Smiles. And he is very tolerant and lets her.

Laying by the Pool
Smiles has his own corner of the pool, where he sprawls out on a floral pad that is supposed to be for the humans sitting in the chairs. He waits until the sun has warmed up the pad just a little, and the air is still a bit brisk. Then he parks on the pad, and lays around for an hour or two until the sun gets too hot overhead. He's got the system down.

Water Breaks
I gave Chris and Carla a stainless steel bucket to keep filled with water outside for the dogs. Now this is the only place Smiles will drink water from. There's just something about drinking out of a bucket - I guess it's kind of like drinking from a keg vs. a bottle. So Smiles now wakes Chris and Carla up at 3am to go out and drink water, even though there is water right next to where he sleeps at night. I told them to squirt him next time he does that.

Exploring
Chris planted a citrus tree, and ringed it with strawberries for Carla, and Smiles thinks it is there for him. He spends a bit of his day sniffing it and wondering what this new thing is. And checking to see if the strawberries are ripe yet so he can taste-test them.

Napping on Dogs
Smiles must always be touching. If he's not touching Chris and Carla, then he's touching Schuykill or Foster or Lady. You can't get a picture of Smiles without him laying on someone. It's a good thing he's such a likeable guy, and no one minds being laid on by him. It is one of the things I miss about him, as he does love to sleep in the bed - always touching!

Chapter 12.

With all I had going on with the Gathering, Chris and Carla (my wonderful adopters who provide me with my own room, bath and dog sitting when I visit Vegas every month) said they would watch Smiles for me. They also own Schuykill, the Great Dane, two greyhounds - Lady, the shy, Valley Fever girl, and Foster, the man about town, Valley Fever boy. Here is Smile's update from his stay in Vegas.

Greetings From Las Vegas…Still

Chris and Carla have been very kind to me by letting me stay with them for so long. While I miss Claudia, she was getting a little bit short tempered with me what with all she had going on, and my demands for her FULL attention. She was always putting her hand on my nose and saying NO - the NO's got louder too. I guess she doesn't like me yakking at her all the time when I don't get the attention I KNOW I deserve. Hey, I'm just a guy that knows what he wants, and lets people know just in case they have forgotten.

Now Chris and Carla are a bit confused as to what type of dog I am. I am a Sight Hound--NOT the working dog they have mistaken me for. We were all staying on Claudia's property during the Gathering, and I must say I was enjoying myself reclaiming the couches and chairs, when they dragged me off to the Gathering in Kanab. OK, I like a party just like the next guy. But then THEY stuck me behind the tables in the vendor booth. I had to WORK! Greeting everybody that came to the Greyhound Gang booth with my ultra-charming smile and enduring endless compliments and pats on the head. Now many of my fans can say they have met me in the flesh. What an exhausting 2 hours! Then I saw Claudia and leaped over the T-shirt tables to get to her. I just know she wanted me next to her side, not stuck in some booth!

Things are no different now that we are back in Vegas. Work, work, work! The big Great Dane Schuylkill is not getting around so good these days. So my job is to motivate him with lots of howling, barking, jumping, wiggling, and anything else that comes to mind to get him up to go potty. I don't know what would happen if I weren't here. If that weren't enough, I have to carry on like it's the end of the world every time the doorbell rings! Will this madness never end? I even have to remind the humans when it's time to toast up some frozen waffles for us poor overworked, under-appreciated SIGHT hounds.

I've been hearing some strange words around here lately. Such as "specialist" and "therapy". They are even putting me in the pool and telling me that "This will help you after the surgery." All the while people have been looking at my one leg that does not point the same way as the others. I don't care what it means, as long as I'm getting some special attention. I have heard that Claudia is coming to town to stay with me for a while and treat me like the prince I am. And life is good!
I would write more, but it's time for me to go "fluff" the humans' pillows.

Chapter 13.

UPDATE FROM VEGAS

Smiles here again.

I'm still not sure what exactly has happened. But something has happened to me, and I'm not particularly happy about it.
I've been at Chris and Carla's and I've been hearing big words, whose meanings I don't know, like "specialist" and "surgery". But I was getting a lot of attention, and heh, that's what life is all about - being adored.
I was very excited one morning when Chris decided to surprise me with a ride in the car. OK, it was early, I mean really early, like 4 a.m. in the morning. But I've never been one to pass up ANY ride. I live for rides. Plus how could I turn down bonding time with him and me? I mean, I want to please the guy, even if it is some god-awful hour.
I vaguely remember stopping at a vet's office and prancing in, figuring this was some kind of surprise party for me. It was a surprise all right. I vaguely remember getting a shot.

The next thing I know is I am waking up in a small cage with a bandage from my toes to above my elbow, and boy does my leg hurt. I had to spend the whole night alone at the vet's office. I was one unhappy dude and I made sure my vet knew. "Where are my people? What am I doing here?" I shouted for all to hear.
Thank Dog, Claudia and Carla picked me up in the morning. My leg is still bandaged, but I am with the people I love. And I'm letting them know that. They cannot leave my sight, or my vocal cords start working. We sleep downstairs on the pull-out sofa, and I get hamburger and rice made for me. I think I could even convince them to hand feed me, if I tried a little harder. Claudia and Carla make good nurses.

Then, when I think I have it made in the shade with two women's attention fully devoted to me, Claudia leaves. I am bereft. I run out into the garage and try to get in the car there. I know she left by car, I know I can catch her if we just get in this car. Carla drags me back into the house, and makes me lay next to her on the couch. OK, I like this. Who cares that Claudia abandoned me!
After our nap, I realize how quiet the house is. Why are Lady and Foster gone? I wonder if they went to the vet. I ask Carla, and she tells me that they are vacationing with Claudia so I can get bed rest, and be quiet, as I have 6 weeks to make sure everything heals really really well.

I have to go back to the vet's office every few days. They take off the old bandage, look at my leg (they won't even let my lick my own leg), then they wrap it right back up again. This last time they put a stiff splint on, then wrapped it up. I guess it's not so bad. The bandage is really pretty this time, and everybody is making a BIG deal about me. Chris and Carla even slept downstairs with me for several nights. Mostly cause I raised a big ruckus when they tried to get me to sleep downstairs with Schyukill the Great Dane. My place is upstairs in the bed - they KNOW that. So I go up the stairs very slowly with them, and I have talked Chris into carrying me down the stairs. He needs the strength training anyway, but don't tell him I said that.

I can still run very fast, though I'm not supposed to. They are threatening to keep me on a leash in the house. But heh, I'm a guy with energy to spare. And they sure get after me for chewing on this bandage, but heh, it's cramping my style. When they yell, I just smile and all is forgiven. Have you seen my smile?

Dr. Whitnee Chun is my Vet. She is wonderful. She kisses me and tells me what a good boy I am even after she sees what I have done to the bandages she puts on me.
I have to go elevate my leg now, and there is one little loose piece of bandage I need to work on, I'm sure they won't mind.

Chapter 14.

As you know by now, Smiles had surgery on his leg. The specialist from California, Dr. Tommy Walker, says he can fix Smiles' leg, and make him feel better. It's not that he feels so bad right now, but we're trying to prevent future bone cancer and spinal issues because of the problem with his front leg.

Basically, when he was around six months old, and playing on the greyhound farm, he fractured his leg. He was going to be put down, but a farm worker took him home. It was not fixed, and the radius stopped growing before the ulna, causing his leg to grow in a deformed way. He didn't let that stop him, but when he would try sharp turns, he would be in pain and limp.
We had consulted with vets, and the initial thought was to just let things be, as the injury was 2 years old. Eventually the leg would have to amputated. But this vet said he could help, and that it would benefit Smiles. The surgeon was going to go in, and put in plates to provide stability, strength and straightness to his leg. So we gave it a shot.

The surgery was quick, and the cost for the surgery work was $3000. The recovery time is the most important. Smiles goes back to the vet 2-3 times a week to get the bandage changed and to be checked over. The splint will be on for 4-6 weeks, and he needs to be kept as quiet as possible during that time to give the bone the ability to heal.

The following is a pictorial of Smiles fashion statements as an invalid. His vet, Dr. Whitnee Chun, is the Versace of the vet wrap world.
Here's his firecracker mood - done on the 4th of July, naturally.

Then there is his dolphin, water-mood one.

Here's his another elegant look, done by a new vet to the clinic subbing in for Dr. Chun.

Chapter 15.

Dear Claudia,

I have something very important to ask you.
First, let me say how much I love you and appreciate everything you have done for me. If it weren't for you, I might still be outside in that yard, with that pit bull, in Colorado...or worse. You took me into your home, did your best to teach me how to behave, shared your bed with me and allowed me to practice my singing anytime I wanted. I also know that you are the reason my leg is a lot straighter now. Nobody else would have done that for me.

I have done a lot of soul searching; and I believe Chris and Carla need me to stay in their lives forever. It's not that you don't need me, but I think they need me more.

Of course this is all up to you. I'm sure that it has been very lonely in Kanab without me.

I have written a poem to show you how kind they have been to me.
They feed me when I'm hungry,
They keep water in my dish,
They let me sleep on anything,
Or anyplace I wish.T

hey sometimes let me lick their hands,
Or even lick their face,
Despite the fact I've licked myself,
In a very private place.

They taught me how to come when called,
They taught me how to sit,
They always let me go outside,
So I can...go potty.

I've been with them through so much,
Through laughter and through tears,
I hope to live here till I'm 100,
That's 700 in dog years!

I've given this a greyt deal of time and thought. I am certain that this is what I want. If you decide that you can survive without me I would sure like to stay here. Don't forget, you can always come visit if you miss me too much. And I promise to sleep with you when you are here.
Please send your answer as soon as possible, before they realize it was me that put the dent in the wall.

Love,Smiles

My dearest Smiles,
Life without you daily telling me how much you love me, and what it is that would make you a happy boy will be very hard. But I will try to adjust.

We have had a few wonderful years together, and through it all you have been stalwart and funny and silly and a real chum. I had often wished that I could just pass a magic wand over you and turn you into a boyfriend. You would have made the best boyfriend. You love to snuggle and always touch, you are very communicative and you adore me. And you are just so handsome - I always look at the eyes and smile first - then the gorgeous, buff bod. You meet all my requirements!

As long as Chris and Carla promise that they will be my friends forever, then I am happy to have you call their home yours. After all, it's my home away from home too. They really do take in all us strays, and love us very well.
Your poem was quite eloquent, and I think that perhaps you have a future as a published author. However, don't you dare get published before me, that would be unforgivable.

I'm going to go cry now. I'll see you this weekend, you goofy head.
Love,Claudia

Knucklebones for knuckleheads

2001-01-01T08:40:00.002-07:00

It never ceases to amaze me how the simplest of activities can provide such joy to these dogs.
I purchase knucklebones, or beef marrowbones, or soup bones from the grocer once every few weeks to help keep the tarter off their teeth. I look for the ones that are rounded, with a limited amount of fat on them, as those provide good jawing power. I only have to start to open the package and eager noses begging for their own, surround me.

As I hand each one out, Winslow excitingly grabs onto an edge of a piece of dangling fat and then lays down in a full stretch to start gnawing on his.

Passion sniffed it, not sure what it was, and just looked at me.

Marm gingerly took hers and went to the far corner of the yard to start her chew process. Which is a very slow, deliberate attack on it.
Passion saw Marm take it and decided she could do that too, and put it half in her mouth and half out, and then placed it on the grass, looked at it and finally stretched out to enjoy it.

Annie, the Italian Greyhound, all of 12lbs opened that smallest jaw and fit the whole thing in her mouth - she is such a mooch. Show her the FOOD and she is there! And she attacks that bone, I'm sure she thinks if she can quickly devour the whole thing, then she can go get someone else's.

And Beauty, though she wants one, wants you to help her with it. She'll start to pick it up and then drop it. And I'll wash it off, and hand it back to her. Finally I give up and just place it on a dog bed or chair, and eventually she deigns to put it in her mouth and take it someplace to start chewing it. She stays upright though, probably because of her spine and arthritic issues, and reaches down to chew and lick it. See Annie, in the background, keeping an eye on her next acquisition!

Their body language when intent on these bones is telling. They all go to their part of the yard to chew in private. Marm the farthest away, as she's the least trusting about her food. Winslow and Passion right next to each other, as they could care less. Annie just a little ways off, so she can get to someone else's bone quickly if they abandon it. If another dog should come near them, they turn their bodies, so that their bone is away from the other dog who is looking at them. If the dog persists in standing there, they will sometimes pick up their bone and move elsewhere, or just totally ignore the dog standing there. A growl can also tell the watcher that they are not wanted in the vicinity. When I have new dogs I always monitor, as they can get very jealous over these bones. Passion is new to the group, so though she has not exhibited any very upfront alpha bossiness, I'm keeping a close eye on the bone game.

Yep, there goes Passion. Walking over to every other dog and checking to see if their bone is better than hers. No problems though, everyone just ignores her.

And it's just another day at the Gang, pleasing those doggies! And no, Winslow was not supposed to bring that inside to chew on the couch!

Addendum: I used knucklebones when I free fed kibble. I have been feeding raw for about 5 years now, so everyday the dogs get raw turkey necks and raw meats. They love it, and their health and teeth have improved tremendously.

Car

2000-01-01T17:17:00.004-07:00

Ode to Car
Car is simply "Car."
And I love him.

He has done everything I ask of him, every time. He drives everywhere I want to go, at the speed we both like traveling at. He spends hours alone, and never complains. He goes out in any weather, and gets places safely. He always starts, and always stops when I ask. When we had a big tire blowout, traveling in excess of 70 mph, car gracefully let me pull him over to the side without mishap. No panic on his part. Car is my protector, my home away from home.

All the Gang greyhounds love Car.

Car is the first thing they know when they leave behind the life of crates, and running for their lives. He is their first haven. And they never forget that. They trust Car. They can be scared of everything around them, but they know that Car will protect them.

Say his name -- "Car" -- and they become jumping beans. "Yes, yes, yes." they say -- "Go in Car." If they at all think we are going to visit Car, they are ecstatic. When we walk around the yard, they always end the walk surrounding Car. Bobbing and weaving and saying, "Car, we want to go with you." They will chase Car down the driveway if Car tries to leave without them.

Car brings them immeasurable joy. Car protects and provides. He took them from their former lives, and gives them daily opportunities to experience new adventures. Car never disappoints.

Even though Car knows he is on his last legs, he doesn't stop. He might complain a little more, be a little slower to react, a little slower to get places, need more time to rest. But he's still always there. He'd never think to let the greyhounds down. Not in 120 degree heat, or zero degree cold.

Quite simply, we love Car.

The Day

You have to understand that when I left my East Coast life style in 1993, I broke up with a boyfriend, and I sold my classic, red, convertible Karmann Ghia. I cried harder when the new owner drove away in the Ghia, then when I told the boyfriend good-bye. So I have a history of loving my cars. I don't believe I've ever loved and respected a car as much as I do CAR.
Yet at this moment, Beauty, Smiles and I have hitched a ride on a Vegas-bound bus, where we're going to pick up our new car - a 1997 Honda Odyssey Van. I've never seen it. I've never driven it. But it's going to be our new car - CAR2.

Before I left I slipped behind the wheel of CAR. And I just sat.
Red dust, torn plastic, worn seats, cracked windshield surrounded me as overwhelming sadness engulfed me. CAR had never once let me or the greyhounds down. He never refused to go, he was always ready and willing to rescue and chauffeur. It didn't matter to him that I once picked 200 ticks off a greyhound on a 10 hour ride from rescue to my home. Or that another time, we packed seven greyhounds into his willing and generous cargo space. Or that over the years, hundreds of hounds had adorned and adored his interior.

I sat there, just slumped in the seat because I couldn't even bring myself to start stripping CAR of the trappings I'd need for CAR2. The license plates, key chain, sunglasses, terra cotta aromatherapy holder, Jezebel and Eli pewter figurines that had traveled cross country with me, the insurance…to take from CAR these representative items that brought him to life. I felt like a traitor.

I slid out of CAR, thinking I would just take the plates off first. I walked slowly around to the back, my hand trailing along his dusty side. I couldn't even get the plates off, CAR was holding on so tight. I moved to the front, and knelt in the gravel driveway in homage to CAR, and he let me remove the front. I had not noticed how the road and the journeys we had taken had reshaped the plates. They were rusted, bent and cracked, and my heart lurched with renewed respect for all the journeys CAR had allowed me and the greyhounds to make safely.

Believe me I know this sounds stupid, it's bad enough to amorphosize dogs, but cars?? However, the tears are all true, and undeniable. Without CAR's steadfastness and trueness, greyhounds would not have been rescued so well. I never had to think about whether CAR would make it. He just always did.

The ride back from Vegas in CAR2 was quick, easy and light. There is more room for the greyhounds, they don't have to jump as high to get into CAR2 and it's better gas mileage. But this first trip was not an adventure, like it used to be with CAR, it was just a drive.

Currently, CAR has been completely detailed, and is feeling spiffy. He's living under the carport, as I just can't decide where he will go. I envision him living out his life in my pasture, with green grass, fresh water and blue skies. I envision him going to someone who will care for him and love him as we do. The reality is I have to sell him to pay bills, and CAR, even by his leaving, will still be there for us.

ADDENDUM: CAR went to his new home today. Landon (yes, named for Little Joe) Loveland, and his wife Erica met CAR, and drove him to his new home that day. We watched CAR drive

up the driveway for the last time. Bye CAR, we will miss you..

Hound Stories - True Blue

1999-12-01T16:52:00.008-07:00

Hound Stories

I did front line rescue work when I started Greyhound Gang. I took in greyhounds, no longer wanted by the racing industry. I pulled off ticks and fleas. I once counted 55 ticks on one dog. I bathed them. They got vaccinated, spayed or neutered, dentaled. Any other medical condition was taken care of. I housetrained them, and taught them acceptable behaviors for a pet. One of the ways I raised money to pay for the medical work, was to write about some of the dogs needed some special care. I called them Greyt Angels, and human angels sent a check monthly in return for pictures and stories. Here are some of those stories.

Blue

Blue has been with me since April 1998. He was rescued from a cage at Colorado State University where he was slated to be used as a practice surgery dog. His owner had given him to the University, after racing for 3 years. Blue had been one of the trainer's favorites. His trainer had been lied to and told that he had been 'petted' out. I was a small piece of an underground railroad that got greyhounds, slated for terminal surgery out of CSU, and to me to adopt out to loving homes.

Blue is never far from his stuffed animals.

Blue was the first gray greyhound I'd ever seen. And he was oh-so-handsome. I wanted to have him around to look at, and to see if he would be a keeper for the Gang. My requirements for a personal dog are tough ones, though.

The dog has to like to travel, as I do a lot of car traveling.

The dog has to be friendly and an ambassador for greyhound adoption.

The dog has to listen really really well, as there are times when I need my dogs to do what I say when I say it - off and on leash.

The dog has to be very mild-mannered, and go with the flow as I have many things going on all the time

The dog needs to get along with lots of other dogs, as I have many dogs coming through my property.

Blue passes some of these needs, but not all of them.

Traveling

Blue isn't the best traveler in the car. Matter of fact in the beginning he'd really stress himself out, and get the big D whenever we traveled. He's much better now, but he doesn't like to lie down. He likes to have his head out the window and he talks far too much for the entire drive. He'd really rather get a treat and stay home, then go in the car.

What a face, so quiet when he's asleep.

Friendly

Blue is very friendly, but he is a bit hyper for a greyhound. By hyper I mean: Blue will retrieve forever, just like a Lab. He likes nothing more than to have a toy in his mouth. When I come home I say 'Blue, toy,' as he gets really hyper when he sees me and a bit mouthy too. He runs over and picks up a toy, and then talks to me with the toy in this mouth. When I try to teach dogs to play with stuffed animals and toys, I have to lock Blue inside, because he will not let anyone else have a play toy. They are all his-all the time!

He is usually very busy. He goes in and out the dog door continually, actually preferring to be outside, especially for part of the night. He gets up whenever I get up, even a year and a half later.
He whines a lot. He is always talking to me about something. I find it endearing, but at times it can be annoying too.

When you pet Blue, he acts more like a regular dog than a greyhound. He grunts and groans, and moves into you, but with force, not gentleness. He's the kind of dog a guy would like because you can manhandle him and he doesn't mind, like most greyhounds.

Listening

Blue actually listens very well. He is very eager to please, and he is very attentive to people. He spent many years trying to please people, and I believe that translates into his desperate need to be loved. However, Blue is the epitome of the centuries of breeding to chase. Blue will chase until he dies. Blue will go after anything that moves-ANYTHING! Other breeds of dogs, cats, little dogs, cups, toys, birds-it moves and he goes after it.

Mild Mannered

Blue is not mild. He's sweet, he's loving, he's mannered, but he's not mild. See above.

Blue showing Call that no one plays with his toys.

Getting Along

Blue does get along very well with other greyhounds. He is not a dominant male. He lives for the chase, not to be in charge. You cannot trust Blue with a strange dog of another breed. Big, little, hairy, hairless-if it's a new look, he needs to put his mouth on it.
So Blue is still here. Seeing all that goes on, and watching all the dogs come and go.
Next month, I'll recount some of Blue's adventures with the Gang.

Blue always manages to crack me up. He is such a personality, but I swear he is part Lab.

His Talking

Every time I come home from somewhere, he is there talking at me-barking, rooing, whining, wiggling.
He also always greets me with something in his mouth. And he continues to talk while he has something in his mouth.
So here is this gorgeous big blue boy, with an orange football (his favorite-he's such a boy) stuffed in his mouth, and he's wiggling and wagging, and trying to talk at the same time. So you hear these low throaty, almost growly sounds from his throat. Just cracks me up-every time.

His Playing

He loves to play with toys. He has such an oral fixation. Something always has to be in his mouth. I can't play toys with other dogs because Blue has to have all the toys. He just can't stand to see anyone else with a toy, and will push all other dogs out of the way to get to HIS toys. Cracks me up. I try to throw him a toy and then throw a toy fast for another dog, but Blue is there-getting them both.

Blue's Injury

I may have given you some of this history, but I'll repeat myself. Blue was turned into CSU to be used as a terminal surgery patient for a few reasons. He was no longer making money winning races, because he had two dropped muscles. A dropped muscle can occur when a dog is raced too hard. Blue doesn't do anything 'soft.'
Blue can't engage his hindquarters the way other dogs do because of the dropped muscles. When he runs-and run he still does-his back legs perform a sort of pump action. But he still can move out furiously. With him, it's mind over matter.
In addition, he has some spinal damage to his neck, which has yet to manifest itself into something bad. But I've had 3 dogs die at nine with injuries from their track years, and my judgement is that Blue's injuries will start to affect him more as the years go by.

I've brought him to the chiropractor for neck adjustments, and they really seem to help. Part of the problem is that he always has something in his mouth, and is always diving for a toy, and so wrenching his neck again. Additionally, Blue has a limp in his front right. We thought initially it was a shoulder, but we now believe it is an arthritic toe. Again, a toe that was dislocated and healed with more calcium deposits and so hurts him at times. Blue is on glucosamine and chondroitin and MSM and these help manage the pain. Other than amputation, which we feel is not an option at this time, Blue will live with this injury too.

Blue and Waldo wrapped in an embrace on the big overstuffed chair.

To digress a bit

I test all my greyhounds off leash. I have an area that is somewhat secure, but unfenced. I tested Blue over a year ago, and he listened really well. Then he flushed a rabbit, and that was the end of him listening to me. From that point on, whenever we went for a walk the ONLY thing on his mind was rabbit. And it was just no fun, for him or me. So he has not been off leash now for over a year.
I was walking him, Beauty, Winslow, and Kaibab in my open area last month. Blue was on leash, the other 3 were not. Poor Blue. I had him on a harness, and he was straining at the end of two leashes. He just wanted to go. The other dogs were having so much fun, and I felt so bad.

So I put all the other dogs on leash, and I took Blue off. Within a minute he'd flushed a rabbit, within 10 seconds of flushing the rabbit, he'd started to scream. He'd hurt himself. I saw all this. I was only about 50 yards away, but nothing I was screaming was going to stop him. He kept screaming and running after the rabbit over a rise. The dogs and I ran after him. He was nowhere to be seen. We ran to my car about 1/4 mile away, screaming his name the whole time. I threw all the dogs in the car, and then I just started bushwhacking in four-wheel drive-yelling his name out the windows.

As minutes passed I became more and more upset, as I imagined him down somewhere, unable to get up and get to me. I also couldn't understand why I couldn't see him anywhere, as the terrain was pretty flat. But there was no movement anywhere.
I drove around and around on top of sagebrush and stumps, and then I got stuck next to a ravine. As I turned the car around to get out of this predicament, there was Blue, limping on three legs toward the car, on the other side of the ravine. I jumped out and ran to him. He was breathing hard, and his back leg's toes were all curled under. I immediately thought neurological damage and the tears well up. I pick up the 85-lb. boy and carry him to my car.
I get him in the back, though he refuses to lie down. And cries whenever we go over a bump and he has to put weight on his foot.
I rush him to the vet's house and wake up the vet at 8 am in the morning.
He, too, is concerned about the turning of the toes, and tells me to take him to the clinic.
They check out Blue, and the diagnosis is a fractured hock.
Blue is put in a cast for 6 weeks. I breathe a sigh of relief, as a broken hock is nowhere near as bad as neurological damage.
So for 6 weeks, Blue has run around the yard chasing imaginary rabbits, and a couple of real ones, on three legs. Nothing stops Blue.

Today, 6 weeks later, the cast came off. It took over a half an hour to saw off the cast. Blue was a gentleman the whole time. The leg and hock areas were looking good, and then we got down to the foot. Whewee-it was putrid. The rubbing from the cast on his toes caused brown, wet, gooey stuff to cover his whole foot. In addition to the smell and the grossness of the brown stuff, there were two very red, bloody openings on the top of his two toes. We washed everything off, with assurances from the vet that all is not so bad.
So daily we soak the foot, and try to get all the gunk off. He's a big baby too. Did I tell you that?
He will cry and cry over something, and then go running off like nothing is wrong. The toes are all swollen and look bad, but hopefully the anti-inflammatory and the antibiotics will help.
Again, even this doesn't stop Blue. I've wrapped the hock in lots of strips of a sheet, and then a big elastic bandage. This is so when he does do something stupid-like run fast, which he has already done, though currently he does it on three legs-there will be less chance that he will re-injure the hock.

Big Boy Blue-doing his Cosmo pose
And so Blue's saga goes on. Running and chasing, and being True Blue.

The Chase

Blue is the chase. He just can't help himself. He has to be first, fastest and have all the toys. I can't even play fetch with other dogs, unless I have one hand securely on Blue's collar. Otherwise he totally intimidates the other dogs into giving him all the toys. No toys for anyone else. No fetch for anyone else. No chase for anyone else.

Blue tells Smiles who owns the toys.

My Guard Dog

Blue's personality continues to emerge. Just the other day he exhibited behavior I've never seen.
A friend was walking down the driveway and Blue just started running at him, and barking ferociously. Loud and mean enough that I ran outside to see what was happening. I got there just in time to see my friend reach to pet Blue, and for Blue to take a nip at his jacket-and tear it!
My friend looks at me in horror-'he tried to bite me', he screams at me. I grab Blue and yell at him, and Blue, now into his very sensitive mode, ducks and runs away from me, head down. No damage to my friend, but a small tear in the jacket. After we talked, and he left, I went to find Blue.
He was on his dog bed, and when I approached he ducked his head, roved his eyes from side to side, and acted like I was going to hit him. I have never hit him, but obviously someone else had. I sat next to him, reassuring him that I still loved him, but tried to make him understand that his behavior was unacceptable. He really couldn't explain to me why he acted that way. I thought that maybe because he has been here for over a year and a half, he thinks he needs to guard the place. Or that my friend reminded him of someone a long time ago. Very interesting piece of his personality.

Blue's opinion of golf.

My Lovey Dovey Boy

Blue has never really been that insistent about me loving on him. But with this injury, he has really started to ask for a lot of affection. I'll be on the computer, and he'll come and push his nose under my hand, and say, 'Stop what you are doing and pet me.' He really seems to be paying more attention to me now. He follows me around more lately, and when I'm watching TV he wants me to be petting him.
He's never slept in the bed with me in a year and a half, and he slept in my bed two nights in a row. And he is a big heavy boy, and he doesn't move.

Blue meets a friend.

And his talking. I swear Blue is trying to speak English. He has the most amazing amount of growl sounds I have ever heard. They are deep in his throat, and almost melodious. And he can make this noise with his orange football in his mouth too. Nothing stops Blue from talking lately-a regular Chatty Cathy.
Still can't get him to put weight on that foot. We've done x-rays, and everything looks OK. So I just keep massaging and making him put weight on it-and hope all turns out OK. I don't think Blue will be going anywhere fast. And that's OK.
I think I like it here.

Blue is so, well... Blue.

Today I took him for a walk with the other dogs. He's always in a harness when we walk, because he has to pull. And he has to be at the end of the leash, or leashes, as I usually tie two of them together. He always does this. There is no equivocation for Blue. He must try to always be in the lead, in the front.
When he walks he never takes time to pee. He is too busy. Too busy looking for rabbits, or things that move in the day. This male dog never stops to lift his leg. He has dedicated himself to one thing and one thing only, the chase.

On the lookout

His hock is healed, but in Blue's mind it still is not. He still hesitates to put down his back foot. When I say, 'Blue, put your foot down,' he will. He is a very obedient boy, and desperately wants to please me at all times.
So this walk goes like this:
'Blue, put your foot down.'
'Good boy, Blue.'
'Blue, put your foot down.'
'Good boy, Blue.'
'Blue, please put your foot down.'
'Winslow, please come back here, that's too far.'
'Put your foot down, Blue.'
'Good boy.'
'Beauty, you're the best girl.'
'Winslow (in a much louder voice now), get back here, PLEASE.'

Does this sound like a fun walk, or what?

Blue loves to stretch

But Blue is definitely starting to feel like his old self. We played football forever yesterday. That orange, beat-up, plastic football is just his favorite.
Maybe he's some famous running back come back to this life as Blue. I can throw it, and he's right on it. Over and over again. My arm is getting pretty amazing. Just another talent to add to the unique resume of mine.

It amazes me how sensitive he is though.
In the car today, Buster took exception to Blue stepping on him. I couldn't see any damage done to Blue, though he was howling. That evening, I realized that Blue was not in the living room with everyone else-a sure sign that something was upsetting him. Sure enough, there he was in my bedroom, sulking and feeling, well, Blue.
He had a slight bruise on his side where Buster must have made contact without breaking the skin. When I went to touch it, Blue just started crying. At first, I was concerned, thinking something else must be the matter. But no, it is just a bruise, and Blue is feeling oh so sad.

It's taken him almost 2.5 months to start to put weight on the foot. He has himself totally convinced he is a three-legged dog. And unless I'm there telling him it isn't so, the back leg is up. He'll put it down when walking really slowly, which is not the normal gait for Blue. But when he kicks in gear, he's still doing it on three legs.
Never without a toy...

Everyday, I pick up the good back leg, and force him to put weight on the broken hock one. There's no physical pain with me doing this, just Blue's psychic pain. And so my days with Blue go on, as I continually repeat my new mantra, 'Blue, put the foot down. Good boy.'

I was away this weekend in Las Vegas doing greyhound stuff-like Meet & Greets, where I hope to find more adopters; like home visits where I cat tested Buster, not cat safe; like the GPA greyhound picnic, where I spent too much money and had tons of fun seeing all the beautiful rescued greyhounds.
When I pulled in at 8 p.m. Sunday night, Blue was the most ecstatic I'd ever seen him. I think I mentioned that he grabs his orange football in his mouth when he sees me, and prances and growls his hello, and dances and shakes his head and body-and just acts all over goofy-saying with ever fiber of his being, 'I am so glad that you are home.'

Love that football

He then proceeded to stick right next to me and not leave my side all evening. He was right behind my chair when I was downloading my 75 emails. I didn't even notice him there he was so quiet, but when I rolled back my chair, there he was-screaming because I'd rolled into him. I did mention what a big baby he is. He makes a very big deal over his hurts, he really is such a typical male.

'Typical male'? Hrumph!
He followed me into the bathroom, into the kitchen, into the bedroom. And also made it very clear that he was sleeping in the bed with me tonight. Usually he could care less. He never sleeps in the bed, or really follows me this closely. I found this so endearing. I couldn't really believe it.
We all went for a walk this morning, and even Blue insisted on going. I put his harness on, and he jumped right up in the car, whining and moving, and generally making a pain of himself, as he refuses to just be cool and calm in the car. He has to be a basket case, that's Blue.

A profile to die for
The rest of the boys-Winslow, Buster, and Smiles-were all cruising around trying to scare up a rabbit. Blue was at the end of his leash, pulling me along, as we recited his mantra-'Blue, put your foot down. Good boy. Blue, put your foot down.' Luckily for me we didn't flush any rabbits, and the walk was nearing the end, as the car was in sight. There were two big ravens in the field to our side. I said to Buster, 'Buster, go get those crows. Pretend they're rabbits. Go ahead, Buster, go get those crows, I know you want to run.' And Buster took off after them, as then did Smiles and belatedly Winslow-who gave me a look saying, 'Look what you did, you know he can't catch them.' Poor Blue was straining at the end of his leash, trying his damndest to go with the boys. I felt bad, but that's what got him his broken hock last time, me feeling sorry for him.
It was something, though, to see those boys chasing those crows. Especially 8-year-old Buster, who cranked it up and ran like the he could catch them. The crows seemed to enjoy it too, as they let the dogs get close, and never really took off far or high. Just glided a bit above the ground, and then came around for more fun and games.

Yep. I'm gorgeous.
Walks, in the company of my greyhounds, are the best part of my day.
Blue appears to have had an epiphany. He is really acting attached to me. I think it's because lately I've had to leave the house more, and he is realizing how much he likes having me around. He now sleeps in the computer room when I am on the computer. When I get up to go anywhere, he follows me, if not with his body, then with his eyes. He's sleeping every night in the bedroom. Not on the bed, because Smiles and Buster have really taken that over, but on the dog bed, next to the bed.
He even waits for me to stir in the mornings (instead of getting me up) before he's doing his happy dance and wiggling and waggling and letting me know it is time to get up and get dressed and go out.

The Baby

He still refuses to put his full weight on that foot. He really is a big baby. When I tell him to he will, but he won't otherwise. He hops around-very fast-on three legs.

I am pensive today

Our Days

I think the dogs hid all my nail clippers. I have 4 sets and I can't find one. I had to order more. At night when we're watching TV, I see those nails, and I want my nail clippers, and I could swear they are all grinning about it.
Today I had wood delivered, and Blue was right there, trying to get hit with the logs as they came off the truck. I told him to go inside and vacuum if he wanted to be useful. Instead he picked up his football, and made me throw it for him. I really do have a lovely arm from throwing that football for Blue!
Gave Blue a bath today. He needed it. I do it about twice a year. Blue had been at the vet and under anesthesia and on the operating table months ago, and I hadn't been able to bathe him until he would put some weight on his foot. He did what I told him too, but he wasn't happy about it. I was happy about all the dirt that came off of him!

On Our Walks

Blue chooses to not walk quietly next to me. He strains to the end of the leash, which is attached to a teal harness. Which matches his teal collar. He is always moving forward, always going, always looking. Blue can't even take time to pee. He's got things to look for and hope he can chase.
Today, during our walk, Beauty found an eight-inch piece of dead animal skin with hair attached. Blue was riveted to it. It was all I could do to pull him away. I threw it to the side of the road, and we continued our walk. As we came past that spot, Blue pulled me, almost off my feet, and emerged victorious with the dead skin in his mouth. I had to pry his jaws off it, and he continually turned around to try to see it and get to it as we went back to the car.

My come-hither look...
I can make assumptions from this, and will . Basically these actions are so true to who Blue is and continues to be. He has to put his mouth on animals. His training and breeding had to be the key to this desire in him. He'll still put his mouth on live animals of other breeds when they come visit. And they don't have to be moving. He has never gotten involved in a greyhound fracas, and I don't believe he has any desire to be part of any other fracas. There is nothing alpha about Blue. But there is a lot that is instinct and prey-drive about Blue. If it looks like prey, then he has to have it. He was so intent on this dead piece of skin. When I was telling him to drop it, I could tell from his eyes he wanted to obey me-but his centuries of breeding and instinct wouldn't let him. He is so true, Blue.

Cute Toy Story

The Greyhound Gang got this very big Christmas stocking from their babysitters, Carla and Chris. It had over 10 toys in it. Some plastic, some cloth, all with squeakers. I laid them all out on the floor, and Blue ran right over and grabbed the football-shaped one in his mouth and claimed it for his. He just loves footballs. He is such a boy!

Look what Santa brought for me!

The canine Steve Young

Blue is such a guy. And such a person. If he were a man, he'd be Steve Young.
I mean look at him with this football. He is crazy about his football. He has to have it with him at all times, preferably in his mouth. If it's not in his mouth, he has it next to him. He always knows where it is too. I say, 'Blue, go get your football.' And he runs off, looking for that football and bringing it back. I imagine that Steve Young sleeps with his football too.
And Blue just doesn't have it lying quietly in his mouth. He prances when he has his football. His entire blue body, quivers and tremors and wiggles and waggles saying 'Look at me, I am so cool with this football in my mouth. I am the football guy.'
He'll even do this low growl thing as he wiggles and waggles with this huge, torn, orange, plastic football in his mouth. He is talking about it, as he struts, 'I'm the man, the man with the football.' I swear the same presence Steve has on the football field, Blue has in my back yard. Two football kind of guys.

'I'm the man, the man with the football.'
Then there is this medical thing they both have.
Blue has injuries that should force him to stop running, to stop trying to be the best, to be the man. But nothing will ever stop him. His body could be breaking down, but his heart never will. He doesn't know the word 'quit.' He only knows the word 'go.' And go he will until he dies, with the football by his side. Steve has still refused to say quit too. Hope springs eternal, even when reality says very different things.
And then there's the sensitive side to this macho dog.
Blue is built. I mean he is a solid, complete muscled, stocky kind of guy.
Blue is macho...at least outwardly. He acts tough, as he'll bark at strangers, and appear to be threatening. He'll also not stop when hurt if he's caught up in the chase.

Blue shows his sensitive side

But then there is this sensitive side to Blue. The side that is constantly whining and asking for attention. The side that pushes the nose under your hand, and begs you to pet him. The side that when he does have an injury (after he's through with the chase) will sit there and worry about it, and whine about it-and generally make things worse. I think he and Arnold are similar in their macho, yet sensitive flip sides.
So Blue-my Steve Young/Arnold clone in hound form. What's not to love?

Hound Hikes

A big part of my life with the dogs is our walks. They look forward to them, and so do I. We try to do one a day, usually for a couple of miles. I have a few spots, all with some hazards for greyhounds, but it's hard to find a non-hazardous place for greyhounds to walk. Cactus, twigs, rocks, barbed wire, rabbits, rattlesnakes, ditches-you name it-there are many hazards to greyhounds. However, in as controlled a situation as I can get, I let these guys off leash. And their personalities emerge.

Winslow

The biggest couch potato ever. He lies around at the house, and doesn't get up unless I am making peanut butter treats, or am going in the car. But when we are out on a walk, in the middle of nowhere, he is in his glory. He is yards ahead of us, ears pricked, looking everywhere for that telltale movement. He gets so far ahead, I often have to call him back to me. He'll stop, give me an exasperated look, watch me take a step or two nearer to him, and then turn and keep going. He's saying, 'Ok, you got closer, you can see me - I got things to see!'

Buster

He's the old man in everything but his heart. His back end is all messed up but that doesn't stop him from moving and shaking. He's right up there keeping time with Winslow. You can tell that this boy made time in his younger years. At least when I yell Buster's name, he has the decency to turn around and run back to me-sweetheart that he is. And Buster can really turn it on too. The couple of times I've tried to leave him home, he dashes out that dog door and beats my car out the gate. Buster is really the man about town when he is out and about. He has purpose in every movement. HE is going to be in charge and going to do it all. And his body is not going to stop him.

Smiles

He is so adolescent, and so happy with everything. He will run with Winslow and Buster, and then turn right around and run full bore to me. Then he walks by my side for a while, and then he's off again with the boys. His loyalties torn. 'Be with me, and get lots of love...' 'Be with them and be one of the boys...' It's just too cute-and he can really take off, even with the leg deformed like that. He is a trickster though, as he loves to see things that aren't there, and get Buster and Winslow all worked up running after him-after nothing.

Beauty

My baby girl. She just stays by my side. Leaping and hopping and being Beauty. She watches the boys run, but looks at me and says, 'they'll be back those silly boys.'

Blue

My Blue pulls at the end of his leash, which is attached to his harness. He still wants to go after everything he imagines is out there. But I fell for that once, and he ended up with a fractured hock. So Blue stays on leash, and dreams.
Today Smiles decided he needed to chase a raven. And the raven decided that it wanted to be chased, and led Smiles and Buster and Winslow up and down the sage-studded red dirt. Swooping just low enough so they could see him, and teasing them into thinking they might even catch him. Wild nature met untamed hearts and the beat of freedom from wings and paws was palpable.

Today was a good day, in the company of my greyhounds.

Another Blue Day

Here is what Blue is doing lately.

Silly boy, he got bit in the face by my babysitter's dog. It's hard to find people in Kanab to come stay at your home and watch and love on your dogs. I just met this lovely young girl who works at Best Friends and who seems to want to watch my dogs. However, she does bring her own dog with her, and he is a big furry boy named Mac with some macho tendencies.

Anyhow, my guys wanted to chase him too much, and though I had Smiles muzzled, he started to chase Mac, and Mac started to run to escape, and Blue joined in-and Mac bit Blue on the face. Poor baby. He was so hurt by that. But he valiantly let me clean it up, it's not too bad, it just mars his gorgeous features for a few weeks.

He, of course, had to sleep in the bed with me that night.

Blue also is not putting weight down on the foot again. I don't know why he is doing that. He just gets it in his head he shouldn't put any weight down on that foot. Makes me crazy. He is such a neurotic boy. He and the rest of the dogs have again conspired to not let me do their toenails without a fight. They used to just let me cut them, now we have to tussle, and pull and push, and chase and sneak up on them to get those toenails done!

It snowed here finally, and stayed put on the ground. Blue loves snows. He was bred and raced in Colorado, and he likes it cold. He goes out and throws his toys around, and leaves his paw prints all over the pristine white ground. Then he rushes in through the dog door, and pushes his cold wet nose under my hands as I'm typing on the computer. 'Me, me, me,' he says. 'I'm having a blast running around outside, you must get dressed and come see.'

So I do and we play and the world is a white wonderland, and I'm surrounded by my wonders of dogs.

Forever Blue

I knew the day would come, knew it should come, but I was never sure the day would really come.

It feels like I just broke up with a boyfriend. There is this very big hole in my heart and in my home. But as with most endings, there is a part of me that knows this is the right thing to do.
Blue left today with his new family. They are so happy. I am so sad. The house is so empty.

I spent the morning in mourning, petting Blue. I'm sure he was wondering why he got such special attention. With all the dogs here, sometimes it's hard to give them all real individual quality time. So I sat with my back against the wall, and Blue's head in my lap, rubbing his neck and loving on him.

It's been a long road to get Blue a home. He's been so special, and so needy, and well, just so Blue.

I think I kept denying to myself for the whole week that I had offered Blue to these strangers. I met them at a Las Vegas Meet and Greet one Saturday. And the next Saturday, they were driving the 3.5 hours to Kanab to get Blue.

His last night, at 10:30 p.m., I decided he did need a bath. He had been asleep, and the next thing he knew we were in the tub together. He is so good about it. He never protests. Just does what I ask him. Years of training to do whatever was asked of him, whether it was to try and win a race, or to die.

I'm gathering all his stuff together for his new home. It's a lot of stuff. The glucosamine and shark cartilage. The raised bowls. The harness. The muzzle. The packet of information. And his toys. I look at all the toys, and wonder which ones I should let Blue take with him. They are all his, after all. The orange, half destroyed football is a must. The green rabbit. The brown rabbit one of his greyt angels sent him. He has a rabbit and football thing, after all.

I can't help but cry, when I know I should be happy. These are really nice people, and Blue will do his best to please them. I think most of the tears shed are for me, not him. He'll do just fine. And eventually, so will I. Blue is such a presence. His size, his personality, his talking. The house will truly seem empty. I won't be tripping over him, he won't be pushing his nose under my arm for me to pet him, he won't be running all over the yard. When you've had such a presence as Blue in your life for 2 years, it's really hard to let go. And letting go is also not one of my better traits - but I keep practicing.

His new adopters

This is how sweet Kathy is. She went out and bought a bunch of stuff for Blue. One of the things was an insert for the electrical plugs, in case he decided to lick them, she didn't want him to get electrocuted. Made me cry. Still does. Isn't that the sweetest thing?

Kathy and James left Vegas at 5 a.m. They got no sleep, they just wanted to come and get Blue. They made a bed in the back of their small car, with crates on the floor so he'd have more space to lie down. When they left with him, he jumped right into the car when I asked him too, and even laid down. He is so trusting of humans. He always feels he should do what they tell him.

I keep looking at the clock, wondering if they are home yet. Wondering how Blue is feeling. Wondering if his presence will ever really be gone. Knowing that he will be forever...Blue.

Hound Stories - Tiger

1999-01-01T17:15:00.002-07:00

In the Beginning - March 1999

Tiger has only one eye. It appears that his one eye was either bad at birth, or else an early trauma to it caused it to go blind. Heather Weir of Greyhound Connection in Colorado rescued Tiger from a farm in early 1999. He was very stressed out to be in a new situation, and she delayed his neutering operation until he felt better. He was exhibiting his stress by having very bad diarrhea, and she didn't want to risk operating.

Tiger is so many things. But this look of his really
summarizes it all -- Wanting to be loved

So Tiger made his journey to the Greyhound Gang on March 6, 1999. A couple driving from Colorado to Tucson brought him here.

Heather had told me about the eye, and how no other adoption group would take him because of it. I didn't feel this was a problem. I thought a cute patch would do wonders for him. What she neglected to tell me, mostly because she had 20 dogs at her home, and so hadn't really thought he was too bad, was how shy he was.

He really did OK with me after a few days. But he is the kind of guy that is going to attach himself to one person, and then not to too many more. He will find the one person in the family to love -- most likely the woman -- and then he'll be OK with the rest. But he'll only really love one!

Love that one-eye look!

At the time Tiger arrived, I had a lot of workers on my property putting an addition on my home. Tiger was my guard and warning dog. Whenever anyone came down the driveway, Tiger was out there barking his fool head off. I would tell him to quit and he would. But he would continue to circle the strangers, letting out a bark every once in a while.

He did this to the men for two months.

This is everyone's favorite big overstuffed chair.
Tiger's very comfortable in it.

I had to go into Vegas for a week, and had a woman vet staying at my home with a few greyhounds. Tiger was one of them. I called her the second night, and she said that Tiger had refused to come into the house while she was there. I have a doggie door and he would come in and out through it, but he was mostly living outside, and it was cold at the time. I told her to get him in, and then close off the doggie door.

I was so worried about him. When I got home, he was a mass of stress. When he tried to poop he would cry and cry, as he'd worked himself into such a state of anxiety that he had diarrhea and was constipated all at once. In a few days he was OK, but now I was really worried. How was I going to find him a home if he got this stressed out?

When I last left you, I was worried about how stressed Tiger was with me just going away for a few days, and leaving a not so competent babysitter to watch him. He didn't do well, and I couldn't imagine what he would do in a new home.

Then some people from Salt Lake City called me. They had seen Tiger's picture and fell in love with it. They just kept going back to it. I tried to refer them to John Burt in SLC, as I like to adopt to people closer to me. And I give John all the northern Utah adoptions. They went to see John, but they really wanted to adopt from me. And they really wanted to adopt Tiger.

I gave them all the details. Really trying to prepare them for the worst that could happen with Tiger. The big D, the not coming up to them for a while, the barking at strangers, etc. They drove all the way down, expecting to take Tiger back with them. He, of course, wouldn't go near them, and the husband was a bit put out by that.

So they drove home without Tiger.

Two days later they called me back and said they wanted him. I tried to talk them out of it, but they were insistent. So we met half way in Beaver, Utah, and Tiger left me. I watched the car pull out, Tiger with a woeful look in his amber eyes. My eyes filled with tears.

It is so hard to let go of any of them. The ones that stay with me longer are twice as hard. The special ones that need a little more love and understanding are even harder. I conversed with myself the whole way home. Had I done the right thing? Would he be happy? Did they deserve this special boy?

Tiger's baleful, one-eyed look.

I was on the phone with them daily. The reports I was hearing made my heart soar. He was playing with the other dogs, he didn't have the big D, and he was bonding with the woman, who had short dark hair like me. Everything was going far better than I expected.

Then I got an email: "His nose is running a lot, and leaving little puddles on our carpet. What can we do about that?"

Nose running. Puddles on a carpet from a nose running?

I called my vet, Heather, and asked her about whether a nose could run enough to leave a puddle on a carpet. Her answer was the same as my first thought, "What are these people thinking?"

A dog's nose will run sometimes when they are stressed. A dog's nose will not run enough to leave puddles on a carpet. We both knew that a question like this just meant that they were unhappy with Tiger on some level.

Tiger had done nothing wrong. He'd been better than expected. But his nose was leaving puddles on the carpet.

I spoke with the wife, and got straight answers. As a couple they had always had problems with making decisions. They tend to vacillate a lot about decisions, even once they are made. She confided that they'd even postponed their wedding.

So what was happening was that the husband was having problems with Tiger being so aloof, though he was not making much of an effort to get Tiger to bond to him. The husband was telling the wife, it was her choice, and though she wanted to keep Tiger, she was afraid that her husband would never attach himself to Tiger, and it would always be a bone of contention.

In situations like this, when the home is a good one, and the people are good people, but there is just something else going on, my first instinct is to do right by the dog. Which means getting him back to his first home.

So Tiger went back to Heather's in Colorado for a while, as she was able to pick him up for me. No worse for the wear, and actually the chance to see him in a home and see how well he handled it was good. I won't be so worried the next time.

Once I got him back from Heather, it took him about a day to decide he knew me and all was OK. He is back to following me from room to room; giving me that baleful, soulful stare from his one eye; running all over my acreage, and loving on me. I can't wait for someone to know him as I do -- he's a special boy.

Tiger is really a silly boy!

He loves to run around my 2.5 acres, leaping over sagebrush. Blue has taught him that he can do this with a toy in his mouth, too. So here is this one eyed boy, jumping sage, with a dead stuffed bunny in his mouth. Just cracks me up!

The one eye does not bother him at all. You can approach him on that blind side, and he doesn't even startle. He does sometimes run into doors or things because he doesn't gauge the distance correctly with the one good eye. But it doesn't ever stop him.

When he feels comfortable, he is the most loving boy. He will follow you everywhere, and park himself wherever you are. If I'm at the computer, he is there behind me. If I'm making the bed, he's there watching me. If we're watching TV, he's curled somewhere near me.

He also very photogenic. He always takes a good picture. Something I'm very envious about.

Mr. Photogenic -- Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

The way around his shyness is to hold him when someone new comes to visit. Then I make the person approach him, getting down low and petting him. He strains to get away, and then starts to relax. Once he starts to relax, I take the pressure off of holding him, and he usually doesn't run away. He if does move away, then he comes right back, and shortly thereafter will approach the person.

It's really quite silly of him. He gets all wigged out, and then he'll approach. With most shy dogs, I don't force the issue, but it's the right thing to do with Tiger. The only reason Tiger has not been adopted is because of this behavior. He's one of the most gorgeous blue brindle's I've ever seen, he's really healthy, he's really loving (once he knows you), and he's even cat safe. Most people just can't get past the 'wiggyness.' But Jeanie Bruce did.

Tiger in his favorite overstuffed chair

I met Jeanie a year or two ago when she was with a girlfriend who rescues Afghans. I was doing a Meet & Greet and they were shopping for dog food, and we had a lovely talk. Jeanie owned a greyhound, Becky, she'd rescued from the pound, and an Afghan and a cocker and some cats. She stayed in touch, and visited the Meet & Greets once in a while.

She called me a few months ago, and told me that Becky has passed over the Rainbow Bridge. She told me that when she was ready, she'd come to me for a dog, but she needed some time.

I knew that Tiger was the dog for her.

I gave her a month or so, and then I started e-mailing her about Tiger.

All it took was for her to read these Greyt Angel stories and see the pictures, and she called me and said, "Tiger's the boy for me!"

She drove out here, and Tiger kissed her, and his world will never be the same!

Tiger meets Jeanie

He's now sharing his home with eleven cats, an alpha female Afghan, and a female cocker spaniel.

We are all really greytful that Jeanie and her menagerie opened their hearts and home to Tiger!