One Year Ago

One year ago, Dennis the Menace invaded our home.   That’s pretty much the only way I can put it.  He was a stunning hound I just wasn’t ready for.  Without a doubt, Dennis has been the most challenging greyhound in my adopting experience.  I’m glad he wasn’t my first greyhound but came to me at a time when I was better equipped to handle him and knowledgeable enough to know what I needed to do.

He can sit!  But he refuses to do so on command.

This isn’t to say that Dennis is a bad dog.  Nothing further from the truth.  I’m totally in love with him and have made my commitment to be his Mumma until the day I help him cross to the bridge.  They say you don’t get the dog you want, you get the one you need and I think that has been true with Dennis.  Sometimes you don’t realize the lessons your greyhound has taught you until you look back over years spent with him or her.  And sometimes your greyhound comes barreling in and hands you your lessons with trumpets blaring.

Dennis is such a loving boy.  And he wants to please and be a part of everything.  But Dennis has a hard time trusting.  Our first year has been spent with Mumma learning how best to introduce Dennis to his new life and Dennis learning to trust that Mumma has his best interests at heart.  We have made so much progress and I see a bright future for us as we head into year two.

Bettina and Dennis have mutually agreed to be part of the same pack.  That took some negotiation and I laugh now to think of it because it was a similar process when Bettina came barreling in (with the name Crazy Mo) and threw poor Blue for a loop.  Dennis came in from his kennel with the nickname Dennis the Menace if that tells you anything about him.  I sometimes call him Freak Show.  But our friends insist that his name is Dennis Galahad.

Dennis has proven himself to actually be somewhat of a guard dog.  He patrols his fence line like a

He plays fetch and LOVES balls of all kinds.

soldier and if anyone or anything gets too close, he puts on a show.  I always know if something is amiss.  Dennis has even taken to alerting me if my cell phone rings or I get a text or a special weather alert or an alarm goes off and I’m not within hearing of it.  He is not chivalrous at all.  If there is any sort of rain or snow melt causing water to drip off the roof, Dennis will let his sister go on the porch and stand at the door alerting me that they want to come in.  While she gets water dripped all over her, he stands at the bottom of the stairs and waits until the door is open.  Then he dashes in to avoid getting wet.

 

Dennis has a fascination with the shower which is odd for a hound who doesn’t want to get water dripped on him outside.  He’s had one bath in there so far but that hasn’t remotely put him off the bathroom.  It only took one bath for Bettina to steer clear of that room like it was the plague.  Dennis loves to come in while I’m showering and throw the curtain open (letting all my nice warm steamy air out).  He investigates for awhile and then he comes back when the shower is over so he can help me dry off by licking the water off my legs and then helping to clean the shower by licking the water off the shower walls and curtain.  He finishes that off by nibbling for a bit on the washcloth that is hanging to dry out.

Bettina and Dennis hog the cool spot during a Bowdoin Gang play date.

Dennis’s favorite scent seems to be hairspray.  When he knows I’m going to be doing something with my hair, he sticks to me like glue.  He’s learned to love the hairdryer because it usually heralds the use of the hairspray.  Once I’ve sprayed it on my head, he spends the rest of his time trying to rub against my hair and then he lays down and rolls all over the small rug on which the remaining particles of hairspray have landed. 

All my other greyhounds have had impeccable car manners.  But not Dennis.  He insisted that any time I vacated the driver’s seat; he would keep my seat warm.  He also sometimes felt it was a good idea to climb into the passenger seat while I was driving.  I had to get a barrier to put up between the two front seats.  Now Dennis rides with his head just over that barrier, or he rests his head on the back of the seat so his nose is right in my ear.  On his trip to Maine with the ladies from his kennel, he spent his time in the backseat chewing his way through one of the seatbelts in the car.  There is now The Dennis Rule at his rescue which says muzzles on at all times while in the car.

Dennis is not a rooer.  But he is an enthusiastic barker.  He loves Petco and will spend as much time as I will let him chasing the ferrets around and around their enclosure.  Thankfully there is glass

So many milestones yet to come.

between them.  The ferrets seem to enjoy torturing him. 

Dennis is a big goofy love bug.  He’s even taller than Blue was and weighs more as well.  I got exactly what I was hoping for, only it came in different packaging with a different presentation.  It just took me a little while to realize that while he isn’t goofy and loving in the same way Blue was, in his own way, Dennis is marvelous. 

Happy First Gotcha Day D-Menace.  I can’t wait to see where you take me in our second year together!

Happy Fourth of July!

Hope you all eat lots of hot dogs and burgers, drink lots of whatever you like to drink best, and have no idiots in your neighborhood shooting off a ton of fireworks.

Training Bad

Dennis and I went to our first obedience class last night.  We are signed up for 5 weeks of classes at Mr. Dog located in West Bath, Maine.  The lady who owns it has been voted the best dog trainer in Maine for a couple years now.  I figured, how could we go wrong with that?  I must admit, with that kind of fire power I had high hopes.  Visions of a grand champion obedience hound.  I cannot say why I had these delusions given the fact that I had taken Bettina to a training class when she first joined me and learned pretty quickly that high hopes are dangerous.

Watching all the other dogs sit and get tons of yummy treats.

But my hopes for Dennis were reinforced when two of the participants were so freaked out they had to take part behind blanket draped x-pens so as not to see the other participants in the class.  Most of the rest were yanking their owners all around the room.  We had two young labs, one on each side of

us, and they were hauling their owners out of their seats.  Dennis was excited but he calmly stood there in front of me, slightly leaning on my leg for reassurance.  He looked like a rock star in this group. 

My head swelled all up.  Dennis was going to be the gold star student.  We were going to show up everyone and I would practice being humble.  I was already practicing in my head.  The trainer went around and introduced herself to each pet parent and dog.  When she got to us the first thing out of her mouth after “this must be Dennis” was “you know greyhounds don’t sit, right?”

I assured her I knew that but in this case, Dennis was a natural sitter.  Frequently he sits for the heck of it.  We so got this.  Except of course, we hadn't got this.  Of course we had to start with sit.  My old nemeses sit.  The trainer told us what she wanted us to do and demonstrated with a little Chihuahua who sat perfectly.  Then I watched as the labs on either side of us also nailed perfect sits.  I took a deep breath and asked Dennis for a sit.  He looked at me.  I moved on to step two, taking a piece of hot dog, holding it first in front of his nose and then up over his head.  Dennis would only back up.  His butt, which the trainer assured us would naturally sink to the floor when you held the treat over their head, didn’t get anywhere near the floor.

Blurry yes, but PROOF that he sits...when he wants to.

We tried a few times and then took a rest.  Tried a few more times, took a rest.  Dennis was getting discouraged because he wasn’t earning any of those yummy pieces of hot dog.  Soon he stopped paying any attention to me and started watching the dogs all around us who were getting stuffed full treats.  Finally I felt bad and just started giving him treats.  We’d celebrate the fact that he looked at me when I said his name.  Or that he held my gaze for a second before turning back to watch the other dogs. 

Eventually I just gave up all together and sat there while everyone practiced a sit and stay until released.   Dennis started to drool a little watching everyone get treats.  I was beginning to think maybe this was not such a great idea and now we were locked into 4 more weeks of this.  Luckily we switched to learning to target.  I think the trainer could read the look on my face since she chose to use Dennis as her demonstration dog for this. 

He picked it up quickly and was touching her palm like a super dog.  Then it was my turn.  I did manage to get him to touch my palm.  I will admit that it has been awhile since I’ve done much training and I quickly realized how sloppy I was with my commands and rewards.  We practiced target a bit and Dennis was happy to be getting fed finally.   So our first training class ended on a high note, but we are not setting the world on fire.  Mumma’s vanity and pride have suffered a bit of a hit.  That’s what I get, I guess, for being a stage mom.

Disclaimer:  As with any newly retired greyhound (Dennis), hat wearing does not come naturally.  Most of them have not had the benefit of haute couture prior to their retirement.  So bear with us while Dennis learns to keep his duds on and Mumma has a little more time to snap a less blurry picture.  OLE!

May the Fourth Be With You

Dennis and Bettina hope that the fourth is with you today.

The Dennis Chronicles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

RULES FOR A NEW GREYHOUND

1.  Make no judgments until 2 weeks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

time. 

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

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

My Grosse Liebe (My Big Love)

My Big Poppy, my sweet boy, my grosse liebe has crossed the bridge on January 16th.  I’d love to be more eloquent in delivering this news but honestly I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through typing this.  This turn of events was so unexpected that I’m still in shock.  I’m numb.  But unfortunately not numb enough because I feel the incredible pain that his departure has caused.

I know that some of you may be thinking, geez he was 12 years old.  Your time with him was short.  And I agree.  Every day I had with him was a gift and I knew that.  But I had managed to convince myself that he would not leave me until after his 14^th birthday.  And up until Saturday morning, his issues were very run of the mill.  At least they had seemed that way.

He had turned up with a small bruise on the inside of his thigh Monday evening.  I hadn’t seen any event that would have led to such a bruise, but it certainly happens that they fall, or play a little rough and someone has an unexplained boo-boo.  The next day the bruise had spread, and the day after that as well.  But by Thursday it had begun to heal up.  It was all going exactly according to my prior experience with greyhounds and bruises.

Photo courtesy of Bille Axell, Axell Photography

I did notice it was still fairly swollen but assumed that was part of the healing process.  Friday it still looked to be healing.  Saturday morning he went outside and came back in OK.  He was eager for, and ate his breakfast.  Right after that I noticed he was limping and having real difficulty lying down.  I went over and checked his leg and it was swollen more than the previous day.

I called Dr. Amy and soon we were on our way to see her.  By the time we reached her office, his leg had swollen further and an ugly purple bruise covered the inside of his leg.  Dr. Amy did x-rays and blood tests.  Her news was not good.  It appeared to be hemangiosarcoma.  She had seen it before and it had presented just like this.  But to be sure, she wanted to send us to a vet hospital further south where they had experts to evaluate it.

I headed south.  My poor baby tried to be stoic but I could hear him crying in the back and it was killing me.  Given we were in the midst of a snowstorm I could not go any more than 45 miles per hour and I have never felt more helpless in my life.  We finally got there and Blue wasn’t able to get out of the car.  His entire leg was swollen up and extremely bruised.  They got him situated and eventually came to talk to me.

Their opinion was hemangiosarcoma, osteosarcoma or possibly a blood clot.  Of the 3 only the blood clot was potentially survivable but given the fact they could not get a pulse in the damaged leg and it had been that way for so long, he would most likely be facing amputation regardless of the eventual diagnosis.  And to properly diagnose it they would have to conduct more blood tests and a series of pelvic x-rays that, given his state, would have been very painful for him.  After the tests, they would have wanted to keep him onsite on IV pain medication pending a consult with an internist on Monday. 

My big baby boy was just that, a big baby.  He was very squeamish and he did not deal with pain very well.  I had made him a promise when we had lost the fight for Girly Girl’s life that if it ever came to that with him, I would not put him through it.  Such an easy promise to make when you

aren’t actually facing that situation.  I spent a good deal of time going back and forth trying to decide what to do.  The vet we were seeing was very kind but refused to give me any percentages on outcomes and wouldn’t even give me her opinion on “what she would do.”  That probably wasn’t a fair question to ask her.  But I was so lost sitting in that sterile room trying to decide life or death for a soul that meant the entire world to me.  My heart wanted to do everything possible to keep him longer.   

I finally asked if they would bring him in so I could sit with him for awhile.  I hoped that I’d see some clear sign in his eyes.  I had hoped for that with Girly Girl as well.  People always say that you’ll know when it’s time.  But so far I have not had a clear message on that score for either Blue or Girly Girl.  Most of you reading this will have been in my shoes at some point in the past.  So you know that there is truly nothing more terrible than trying to make a life or death decision for someone who cannot express their wishes.  Who has no say and only relies on you to make the right decision.  It is a terrible awesome responsibility.

I kept going back to three things.  He was 12 years old.  We had had a great run and by greyhound standards he had lived a good long life.  I had promised him I would not make him suffer any more than absolutely necessary, even if that meant I had to let him go.  And a dear friend who had just gone through this same tragedy with her greyhound told me that her guiding principle was: it was better to do this thing a day too soon than a day too late.  In other words, no extra suffering just for your selfish wishes to keep them with you as long as possible.

So I called the vet back in and told her it was time to let me baby go.  I had sat with him in my arms while trying to make this final decision and I stayed there with him in my arms while they prepared everything.  I told him over and over again how much he meant to me.  Thanked him for making my life so much brighter.  Reassured him that Girly Girl would be waiting for him and that he’d run again with no pain.  I told him Mumma and Bettina would be all right.  And when it was time, he would come and meet us.  He went out of this world with Mumma telling him how much she loved him.

Blue was an old soul.  A friend called him a gentleman greyhound.  He was very much that.  I am already missing his gentle good morning wake up (always an hour too early but he did have a snooze button).  I miss our special cuddle times on the couch on Saturday and Sunday mornings.  I miss seeing him lying on his big boy bed with his man pillow and his cozy blankets.  I miss the cheer-leading him up the stairs when he struggled to come up due to pain in his back end.  I miss mushing up his peas so he could eat them with all his missing teeth.  I miss having to slightly cook his chicken livers because he couldn’t stand the texture of raw ones.  I miss him standing at his food dish at suppertime and chirping at me to urge me to hurry it along.  I miss him staring at me intently with his ears straight up, trying to tell me some important thing.  Mumma’s head was always too thick to receive the message.  Blue had more friends than I ever have had or ever will have.  He was responsible for a number of greyhound adoptions among our friends.  I know that all greyhounds are special, but there was something about his manner that made him stand out among a field of stand outs. 

At this point, with the waves of sorrow and pain coming every few minutes, I don’t know if I’ll bring another hound home.  I told Blue we would do so in order to honor his memory.  I’m sure in a month or 6 months or a year when the pain is a dull ache and the waves are more spread out, I’ll feel differently.  At least I hope so.  There will never be another Blue.  But he made such a difference in so many lives while he was here.  If ever a hound earned his wings, Blue has.

Sleep softly sweet prince. Royal Bluejay (Blue) 12/10/2003-1/16/2016

Post Script:  I hope all of our friends will forgive us for letting you know this news via this channel.  It was hard for Mumma to type this at all let alone type it many times in various emails.  

Post Post Script:  Grammy had a visit in a dream on Saturday night (the first night without Blue).  She was visited by Blue, Girly Girl, Fox and Bea (Blue’s littermate and beloved of Joe Shuster).  They were running together in a big field of tall grass.  They were all young and sleek and running with sheer joy.  Blue stopped and came back to the bridge, as though unsure which side he belonged on.  Fox, Girly Girl and Bea lay down to wait for him.   Then Grammy woke up.

Let's Face It Mumma, You Can't Get a Present Better Than Us

Happy Holidays to All Our Friends, Family and Readers!

Keep Your Good Wishes Just Gimme the Presents

The Milestones Keep Coming

It's hard to believe that EIGHT years ago today I went to Maine Greyhound Placement Services and met this breathtaking 4 year old greyhound.  He was white with two gray patches over his ears.  At that time one of the gray patches also covered most of his eye though these days it has faded to white except on his ears.  This greyhound was a serious handful but I was so taken with his beauty that it didn't matter.  I chose him.  He was strong and had no leash manners.  Heck he had no manners of any kind.  Early on he seriously injured my rotator cuff when he decided to take off after a leave or a bag or something interesting to him but unseen by me.  He was always doing stuff like that.  He never listened.  Anyone who knows him now never believes the stories of his early days.

What I didn't understand about Blue then was that despite his rowdy behavior, he was a very gentle and sensitive boy.  He had the misfortune of coming into a home that already contained a small brindle heart dog.  He got a bit short changed in that respect as Girly Girl shone very brightly in Mumma's eyes.  Being the sensitive boy that he is, I think he felt the role of second fiddle that I had cast him in.

Because of this difficult start it took us a long time to build a strong relationship.  For most of the time that Girly Girl was alive, I had the distinct impression that Blue, while happy enough with me, would be just as happy with anyone.  That has changed with 8 years of cohabitation.  He's my big Poppy, my Buggy Boy.  I can't imagine life without him in it and I think that he has come round to loving his Mumma as much as she loves him.

I still think he's breathtaking.  I have had the amazing privilege of watching him become a handsome old man.  He still has flashes of the silly goofy boy he was in his salad days.  He never met a blanket or a bed that he didn't like.  He has a fondness for body pillows.  He's lost a fair number of teeth but we've made accommodations for that.  Since he can no longer easily pick up his beloved sweet peas (they keep falling out of all the gaps) we now mash them up into a thick sweet pea slurry that he can eat over his dinner.

I truly can't believe we've had 8 years together already.  Blue manages to charm everyone he ever meets.  His requests for attention and his greyhound lean are legendary.  There is a long list of people who would be happy to take Blue "off my hands" if I ever wanted to give him up.  That list started on the day after I got him with his first vet and is now longer than I can keep track of.  But Mumma will never be taking anyone up on their offer.

Happy Gotcha Day Royal Bluejay.  There will always be a big boy bed and a man cave for you here.

It Never Really Heals

I started off typing a big long entry about how much I still miss Girly Girl and how much it still hurts that she is gone.  But the more I typed, the more depressed I got.  I don't want that to be her legacy.  Because in reality she was an amazing greyhound who changed my life for the better in countless ways.  So I will leave it at this:

“Perhaps ... 
To R.A.L.

Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,
And feel once more I do not live in vain,
Although bereft of you.

Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet,
Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay,
And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,
Though You have passed away.

Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,
And crimson roses once again be fair,
And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,
Although You are not there.

But though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.” 

― Vera Brittain, Testament of Youth

Girly Girl
February 15, 2003-October 12, 2010
Always Remembered

Who Would Have Thunk It?

Seven years ago today a tiny black dog came squirming into the world.  I didn't know her back then but I have no doubt that she immediately started bossing around her littermates and making countless demands of her poor exhausted mother.

The hairy eyeball (and the drippy nose)

As she grew, she underwent the same training as all the other greyhounds in hopes of preparing her to race.  As usual, Bettina had her own ideas about what lay ahead for her.  She was sent out into the world for her maiden race and she didn't get much farther than that when they decided to close down her track.  I'm not saying that her arrival was the cause of the closing of the track, but we don't really know now, do we?

They opted not to ship her to any other tracks.  That's a decision that I have pondered for a long time.  At first I figured that she just must not have been very fast.  Except she IS pretty fast.  I have a sneaking suspicion that it has to do with her sassiness and her tendency to play a little dirty.  I've watched her hip check her brother on numerous occasions if he was on the verge of overtaking her.

I can also envision her spending her 20 hours a day in her crate making an unholy racket at the indignity of having to be in a crate at all.  She was known as "Crazy Mo" in the rescue kennel (a fact that absolutely no one disclosed to me until she was safely in my home for almost a year).  That was because it routinely took 2 or more volunteers to wrestle her back into her crate once she had been liberated.  Nobody puts Baby in a corner (or a crate).

She met me at a time when my heart was so broken I didn't know if I'd ever feel good again.  I'd lost Girly Girl.  The world was way less shiny.  And I didn't think I would be able to adopt another greyhound because I'd spend the rest of our time together unfairly comparing her to Girly Girl and

In Mumma's spot on the couch.

finding that she came up woefully short.  Bettina, of course, had her own mind on the subject.  She saw a gravy train and by god she was getting on it.

So at the ripe old age of 2, and after 6 months in the rescue kennel, the cheeky, bossy hound that is Bettina wormed her way into our household and my heart.  Now after almost 5 years together, I can't imagine life without her.  I've watched her go from a sleek black dog to a greying middle aged hound (she actually started turning grey about 3 days after she came home with me, so we've been watching the grey thing for a long time now).  She's lost none of her sassiness.  About the only thing that Bettina compromised on was the crate.  Occasionally she'll go in one voluntarily but she does expect to be rewarded handsomely for it.

Happy Birthday to you my tiny biscuit.  You're Mumma's diamond in the rough.  Polish though I might, you've remained as sassy as ever.  I am looking forward to the rest of our adventures together and to watching you grow into a bossy old lady.

When You See It Coming

Sharing your life with greyhounds is hard.  I suppose sharing your life with any canine is hard, but when it’s greyhounds, it is more so.  When you have a dog, and it stops eating or it starts limping, you don’t automatically think stomach cancer or osteosarcoma.  But with a greyhound, you do.  Why?  Because the odds are high that a limping greyhound has osteosarcoma.  Or one that isn’t eating has stomach cancer or some other equally nasty health issue that will limit lifespan.

Handsome Vinnie

When you have a greyhound that reaches age 10 or more, the odds go up astronomically that a health issue that might not seem so dire in other dogs means something very bad for yours.  We have dear friends who have an older greyhound and they are facing these odds now.  It hits home for me because their hound, Vinnie is so similar to Blue its scary.  They’re the same size; they both have all sorts of odd lumps and bumps.  They’re both white with some patches of color and adorable spots.  As they’ve aged, their color has faded to the point where sometimes you mistake them for each other in photos.  And they’re both about the same age (Vinnie is about a year older than Blue).

Vinnie has recently started to display clear signs of pain and he’s off and on with his eating.  Now, mind you, Vinnie has always been a bit of a finicky eater (at least since we’ve known him).  And he had a hock fracture that ended his racing career which has always caused him some pain, especially when he has been standing for awhile.  But recently he has been having a lot of difficulty with his hind end.  Standing is difficult.  Going up and down the few stairs to his backyard has sometimes required assistance from his Mum and Dad.  Getting on and off the couch (his favorite place in the world, and it is HIS couch) has been a struggle.

Vinnie has been to the vets and at the moment, the diagnosis is that he does NOT have osteosarcoma

Vinnie is more art than greyhound

but the fact that he isn’t eating so much is concerning.  They sent him home from his last visit with special canned food that seems to be of interest to him.  He has pain meds which seem to be helping him.  But we hear from Vinnie’s Mum that it’s a step forward and a couple steps back.  Everyone who loves him is trying not to think the worst.

But of course, when you have a greyhound that is exactly what you do.  After reading Pat’s email of a couple days ago I have been thinking about Girly Girl, and the fact that Blue is Vinnie’s age and has hind end problems of his own.  And that Vinnie’s brother and sister both passed of cancer (Emma with osteo and Jim with stomach cancer).  And that Blue’s littermate sister Bea passed from osteo and his half brother Fox suffered terrible medical problems before we had to let go of him in January.

A greyhound reaching age 10 has beaten many odds.  With Blue turning 12 in December and Vinnie either at or on his way to 13, both have dodged many a proverbial bullet.  But how many times can you cower under a table while the dropping bombs land on other people?  How long before that bomb with your name on it rains down?

As I told Vinnie’s Mum, the ONLY thing that is good about seeing it coming is that you have time to say all the things you want and need to say.  Girly Girl and I had many a deep conversation and I believe that she understood.  If not the words, then at least the sentiment behind them.  When she left I felt like she knew she was loved beyond reason and would be missed forever.  Blue and I have been having similar conversations of late because I hear the bombs dropping all around us.

I realize it’s a zero sum game.  No one gets out alive.  But does it have to be now?  Can’t it be next year?  Or the one after?  We are sending every last ounce of positive energy we have to Vinnie and his family.  If you have any you can spare, please consider sending out some positive thoughts for them as well.

Wordless Wednesday - Grass is Greener

Memorial Redux

I don’t think it’s any secret that my heart was completely shattered when I lost my heart dog Girly Girl.  I’m always moaning in this blog about how much I miss her and how I still think of her all the time almost 5 years after she passed.  A once in a lifetime dog is just that.  And some people are lucky to realize they had a heart dog years down the line after they’ve compared that relationship to all the subsequent ones.  But some of us are unlucky/lucky enough to know it the second you meet that hound.  When you know what you had, and what you’ve lost one can’t help being a little bitter at times.

We have reminders of Girly Girl all over the house.  A portrait of her that Grammy commissioned the Christmas after she left us, a quilt square with a photo of her made by a greyhound friend and sent out of the blue like a little package of sunshine.  We have photos of GG all over.  And a cast of her paw print.  I have a mug made with her paw print that always sits on the window ledge in my kitchen.  There will be no drinking from that cup.  And we have the memorial that the folks who cremated her gave us when we went to pick up her ashes.

So you’d think we wouldn’t need anything else.  But one day, while reading Hazel’s blog (Class A Greyhounds-RVing with the Big Dogs) we came across an entry called Memorial.  Hazel had recently lost her hound Fleur and she had discovered and ordered a beautiful ornament with an angel greyhound with Fleur’s name underneath it. 

I knew that I had to have one for Girly Girl but Hazel hadn’t posted where she found it at the time I read the entry.  Being a pretty good Google detective, I was able to track down where the ornament had come from.  A lovely lady named Therese makes them.  She has a Café Press store called Heisman’sGreyhound Art. 

Therese has been creating these little works of art for some time.  She shared that she had lost her heart dog back in 2007 and has lost 7 out of 9 greyhounds that have shared her life since 2000.  It’s very safe to say she gets people like me. 

I sent Therese the names I wanted on my ornaments (one for Girly Girl and one for Fox whom we had just lost).  She soon sent me links to the Café Press pages where I could view and order the ornaments.  For such a lovely keepsake, they are ridiculously inexpensive at $6.99.   I placed my order and shortly they arrived in my mailbox.

I couldn’t have been happier with them.  I can’t decide whether I will hang Girly Girls somewhere in the house so I can see it every day or if I will put it on my dog themed Christmas tree.  If you have lost a hound (or more than one) this is a lovely way to memorialize them.  Therese is a kind lady who would be glad to make you one of your own. 

(I received no remuneration for this blog post.  I ordered my ornaments after seeing one on Hazel’s website.  I get nothing if any of you decide to order from Therese.  I just found these ornaments beautiful and wanted to share in case any of you feel the same way I did when I saw it.  I did get Therese’s permission to write this post.)

Brusha, Brusha Brusha, Each and Every Day

Blue was scheduled for a dental recently.  I typically don't get too worked up about them, but Blue is 11 years old and I had hoped he wouldn't have to go under anesthesia again.  I know in my head that anesthesia is much safer than it used to be and that he was going to be in great hands with our vet, Dr. Amy.  But somehow your heart and your gut never gets the message from your head.  

6:45 Get up, brush teeth, brush hair, let the kids out to potty.

7:15 Take Blue and head to Topsham Veterinary Wellness Center.

7:35 Post to Facebook from Dr. Amy’s parking lot that we’re there and Blue’s adventure has begun.

7:37 Discover one of our Facebook friends (Nova Beaudry) is also going in for a dental today.  Begin a discussion on how nervous we both are.

Dr. Amy checks on Blue and his fellow patient in the recovery area.

7:45 Leave Blue with Dr. Amy to have his teeth cleaned.  We went through all the scary questions.  What do we do if he has complications?  Do you want us to save him? Etc.  When your hound is 11 years old, those questions take on a whole new meaning.

8:15  Start haunting Facebook for updates on the Topsham Veterinary Wellness Center page.  I know that they generally don’t have a lot of time during the day to post.  But I do it anyway.  It makes me feel a little better.

9:30 Bettina seems to be moping around without her big brother here.  Or maybe that’s just me projecting.

9:45 Decide to help pass the time by stress eating.  There goes a half a bag of Blue Diamond almonds (toasted coconut flavor-super yummy).

9:53 Talk with Nova’s Mum on Facebook regarding how much we miss our kids.

10:00 I look at the clock for the millionth time.  Blue was the first one to go into “surgery” today.  There’s a good possibility that he’s now knocked out and having his teeth cleaned.

10:30  Check TVWC Facebook page again. 

This picture actually makes him look better than he did.

10:39  Can stand it no longer.  We post to the TVWC page.

10:56  Wondering if Blue’s procedure is done at this point.  Taking no news as good news approach.  Check the TVWC Facebook page again, just in case they posted something.

11:24  Check the TVWC Facebook page again. 

11:30  Refresh the TVWC Facebook page just in case I was missing something.  I wasn’t.  Dr. Amy told me I could call to check on Blue after noon.  That seems like forever away.

12:04 Check the TVWC Facebook page again.  Surprise, no new posts.  Decide it’s now “after” noon so I am going to call and check in.

12:10  Spoke with Dr. Amy.  They are done with his dental and he is just now waking up.  Katie is cuddling with him as he does so and they have him all covered with heating pads to make sure he is warm.  Dr. Amy said that Blue’s mouth was “a mess” which doesn’t surprise me given how bad his breath smelled.  He lost 9 teeth in total which were extracted.  I think, once he heals up and flushes the anesthesia out of his system, he’s going to feel much better.  I am relieved that he is done and that everything went well.  Now I just have to wait until 4:15 when I can pick him up!

12:14 Post a thank you on Facebook to Dr. Amy and her staff for taking good care of Blue and making sure he had a friendly presence at his side when he came out of anesthesia. 

12:19 Sent a tweet out with the good news.  Took a deep breath.

12:40 Missed Blue during lunch.  Especially when I dressed up Bettina and sent her out for her

This is the 3rd time I've ever seen Blue sit in all the time he's been
with me.  And it's the only time he was slow/stoned enough that I could
catch it on camera.

break.  I broke a Stella & Chewy’s treat in half and only used one of the halves.

12:45 Facebook chatted with Auntie Drena to update her on Blue’s status.

2:19 Checked the clock to see if it’s time to go get Big Poppy yet.  It’s forever until 4:15.

3:27 Getting to 3:45 is killing me.  Hate being 2/3 of a whole.

3:45 Head to Dr. Amy’s office to pick up Blue!

3:48 Get stuck behind a farm tractor with no clear way to pass.

3:53 Finally hit a straight way so I can pass said tractor.  What is a tractor doing out in the depths of winter anyhow?

4:15 Arrive at Dr. Amy’s office.  I can hear Blue crying as soon as I hit the door.  When I get to the window I can see him, stoned out of his mind, in one of their recovery crates.  

4:20p I get the full rundown on the procedure.  Blue has lost 9 teeth and he’s going to be pretty sore because one of the teeth put up quite a fight.  I get antibiotics and pain meds for Blue.  I have a small stroke when it comes time to pay the bill.

4:25p They bring Blue out to me.  He’s walking like a drunk, he’s whining, he’s got a pressure bandage on his right front leg where his IV was placed, he’s got drool and blood all around his mouth and he looks like hell but one thing he’s pretty clear about is that he wants to get out of that building.

5:06p  Make it home with our patient and breathe another sigh of relief.  We’re all together again and everyone is fine.  

How to Treat Separation Anxiety

I have a second job.  It involves working in local Petcos and talking to people about Blue Buffalo dog food.  In my day job, I get to work from home, so I spend all day, every day with the kids.  But since I got the second job, I now have to leave them for 4-5 hours a week.  I know everyone says you need to leave them alone at times or they’ll get separation anxiety.  The problem is they do pretty well when I go out.  I’m the one who has separation anxiety.

Bettina hanging out on the couch and Blue in his crate (web cam photo)

I figured the only way I would have any peace of mind would be to somehow be in touch with them while I was at my “other” work.  At first I would just call and talk on the answering machine.  That’s great if they were missing me but it wasn’t really doing anything for my anxiety.

So I asked for, and received, a web cam from Santa.  I set it up and I was so pleased to be able to see the kids I decided to get a second one.  The second camera has infrared so I can see the house in the dark (although I do leave lights on for the kids if I’m going to out at night). 

I have gone along blissfully checking on my kids while I am away from the house.  I can see if they’re just hanging out or where they’re laying.  I can see Bettina run back and forth to the back door to see if that noise was me coming home.  I can watch Blue’s cute ears pop straight up when HE thinks that noise was me coming home.  I can even take snapshots of them from afar and save them to my phone.

One day while at Petco, watching my dogs, I happened to show the feed to one of the Petco employees.  Being a fellow animal lover I figured she'd think it was funny, or cute.  Instead she looked at me with an utterly horrified face and said, “YOU ARE SPYING ON THEM!”  I was taken a bit aback as I had never considered it from that angle.  I was only considering my peace of mind.  Was I spying on them?  Was I as crazy as she was making me feel?

Here they are from the other web cam

Are my greyhounds entitled to some measure of privacy?  They don’t give me any privacy.  They accompany me everywhere I go, even into the bathroom.  One or both of them is always somewhere they can keep a close eye on me.  There is nothing sacred when you have a greyhound.

A web cam is an accepted training tool.  Just watch the show Lucky Dog on CBS.  That guy makes extensive use of web cams.  They are priceless when trying to monitor and correct behavior.

I looked at her a little askance and said, “No I’m not.”  I threw out all the reasons I could think of that a web cam was a good idea.  She looked at me like I had a couple heads and begged to differ with me.  I was spying on my dogs.

I guess you win some and you lose some but I’m not shutting off my web cameras.  In fact, I’m thinking of adding some in other parts of the house.  I’ve read about some web cams that allow 2-way communication.  Maybe one of those next.  But no way am I shutting them off.  It’s either that or they’re going to have to crate me while I’m at Petco.

Wordless Wednesday - Hey Baby, Hows About a Little Snog?

The Dying Season

I hate the winter.  For many, many reasons.  I hate snow.  I hate to snow blow.  I’m not a big fan of cold.  It costs a fortune to heat your house through a long Maine winter.  I hate losing the daylight.  But most of all I hate it because starting in late fall and going through to spring, it is the dying season.

If anyone or anything is going to leave this world, it seems they most often do so within this window.  Facebook becomes one long memorial news feed.  Greyhound after greyhound after greyhound crosses the bridge.  Sure some go at other times of the year, but at THIS time of year it is an endless parade.  Girly Girl left me during this window.

And yesterday Fox joined her at the bridge.  He is another in the long parade that will go during this

dying season but to us he was special.  Fox was Grammy and Charlie’s hound.  If ever there was a dog who met the definition of autistic, it was Fox.  He was stoic and patient.  And stubborn.  He wanted to be loved but on his own terms.  You would never consider Fox a cuddly dog. 

Fox is also Blue’s half-brother.  They shared the same Dam.  They both raced at Raynham in the same kennel.  Fox’s stubborn determination kept him on the track for quite awhile and he was one of his Dam’s top winning greyhounds.  After he retired he went to the Maine Greyhound Placement Service and there his stoicism was a hindrance.  Poor Fox lived in the kennel at MGPS for a year.  No one was connecting with this amazing boy and he kept getting passed by.  He had given up hope and even after a special article was written about him in the MGPS newsletter, he remained in the kennel.

That is, until Grammy and Charlie happened along looking for their first greyhound.  Once they heard Fox’s story it did not matter that he was an autistic boy.  They determined to give him a real home.  There was much happiness in the kennel as volunteers found out that Fox (whom they all called Foxy) was getting a forever home.

Fox fit himself into our lives as though he’d always been there.  He wasn’t much for playing with toys, but if ever there was a greyhound who loved him some dinner, it was Fox.  He lived for meal times and treat times.  As he got older, like most old greys that I know, he began wearing little bits of his meals on his muzzle and chin as if he were saving them for later. 

Even with his autism, Fox learned to seek out a connection with the humans in his life.  He would wait patiently in the line of greyhounds seeking attention and then he would present his side to you, carefully looking away and politely wait for you to pet him, or scratch him or rub his belly or ears.  He would stand there until your hands fell off if you let him.

Fox had a funny chirp that he would use when he felt you were not hopping to it quickly enough to get him dinner.  It sounded just like a little bird.  He would start out almost subsonic and gradually raise the volume.  When he wanted to go out he would stand and face the front door.  It didn’t matter that going out meant using the sliding glass doors on the back side of the house.  When he first arrived at Grammy’s outside was through the front door and by god, that’s how it would always be for Fox. 

Fox never got on any furniture.  It terrified him.  We used to joke that the best way to persuade Fox to go lay down if he was bugging you to pet him was to invite him up on the couch with you.  All it took was a quick “come on buddy, get up here with me,” and he would get the whale eye and start backing up and looking for an escape route.  Depending on how serious he thought you were he would retreat to his bed in the living room, or for level 1 threats he would go all the way back to the bedroom and lay down in there.

As he aged, Fox was afflicted by a mysterious illness which was autoimmune in nature.  He began a slow slide downward with various times of serious flare up and times of miraculous recovery.  The last diagnosis we had for him was Alabama Rot.  He suffered through many issues and corresponding

treatments with the patience and constitution of a block of granite.  It did not matter what you had to do to him.  It did not matter that it sometimes involved a lot of pain.  He would always stand and bear whatever had to be done. 

There were a number of times over the past few years where we were sure that Fox was going to leave us.  That it was time to release him.  But in a couple days he would make a complete turn around and be fine again.  Though each of these episodes took a toll and he was never quite as good as he had been before.  Still, this weekend it was a surprise when the time where we would have to say our goodbyes finally did present itself.

Grammy and Charlie held off, hoping like crazy for one more of his miracle turn-arounds but that was not to be.  If Fox was in pain, he never let us see it.  But he lost the ability to stand.  Then he didn’t pee for 36 hours and when he finally did pee, it was because he had lost all control of his bladder.  When the greyhound that lived for food above all else refused to eat, the time had come.

It was a gut-wrenching decision.  His eyes were bright and lively to the end.  His spirit continued to be willing to go on but his body would not cooperate.  Fox was 12 ½ years old.  He had outlived all of his littermates. He had a good run and by rights lived at least a year longer than he probably would have if he had been a dog of lesser determination.  But that doesn’t make it any easier.

We let him go yesterday afternoon with people who loved him holding him as he went.  He went as he had come and as he lived, with stubborn determination and with love.

Run fast and long Royal Foxglove.  Until we meet again.

Fox
Royal Foxglove
6/2/2002 - 1/4/2015