Greyhound Gang: My Lady's Story

My Lady

She decided she was my lady at our very first meeting. I stepped into the early morning kennel turnout, and twelve bright-eyed girls jumped all over me. The thirteenth hung back and just looked skeptical. It was still early morning light, and so it was hard to get the details on her. But I couldn't miss the way those eyes looked me. Guarded and evasive, yet wanting.

I couldn't really focus much on her, as the other twelve muzzled dogs were busy sniffing and rubbing against me as they vied for my attention. And then there she was, when the rest of the dogs got tired of me, she took four steps, slowly, towards me. I outstretched my hand, and she sniffed. I took a step towards her and she held her ground. And I scratched behind her ears, as I removed her muzzle.

Gary, the real savior of all these girls, was watching.

"She doesn't come up to many. She's one of my favorites. I was hoping you'd take her back with you."

Back with me was to the Greyhound Gang, a non-profit, tax-exempt organization dedicated to the rescue, rehabilitation and adoption of ex-racing greyhounds. My Lady had raced until she was four and then bred puppies continually until she was nine.

She needed to be bathed, and defleaed and deticked. She needed all her shots. And she needed to be spayed and have over 25 teeth pulled. When she came out of anesthesia, she tried to bite all the vet techs with the teeth she had left. But she didn't try to bite me.

She did fine with limited teeth, and she shined up really nicely. She had her special spot in the living room, and her job as matriarch of all the other greyhounds.

At this time I had six greyhounds at my home. I decided to take them for a hike, on dirt roads away from traffic. I could only handle three on leash. My own two knew the routine, so I decided that I would chance Lady off leash. I knew I was taking a chance. I'd only had her with me for a week and a half. And she was shy and easily spooked when she was unsure in a situation. But she had definitely bonded to me, so I decided to give it a go.

As I opened the car door, she turned into a puppy. Her blue brindle body leapt into the air all around me. She danced circles around all of us - speeding up faster and faster as she did her dance. Her tongue was hanging out, her few teeth were gleaming, and she was flashing us her biggest smile.

That little girl stayed by my side for the two-mile walk, except when she was busy doing her circle dance. And we all laughed and played and reveled in our freedom that day.

Later that summer, I brought Lady on a road trip with me to good friends in Wyoming. On the night we arrived, she told me that she would like to stay there, for she climbed up on the sofa and made herself comfortable. I cried the whole way home. I knew she would be loved, but it is so hard to let a piece of my heart go.

They called today. Lady is not well. She has cervical spine damage, from all her years on the track. They will have to let her go if they want to alleviate her pain. I sit here at my computer, her picture in front me. That white muzzle, the wide, wary eyes, the one ear that crosses over -- and the nine years spent serving. She only had six months of whirling and twirling and being free. I'm blessed she chose to spend some of them with me.