Pippin

It depends on the weather/season. Angie eats less when it's hot out, in my experience. Aside from that, she gets between 3-4 cups of Nutro large breed (blue bag) once a day (and nibbles on it all day long). I forget what she weighed in Feb for her dental, but she *looks* just right. She also gets the occasional bone/turkey neck/pig ear/dog biscuit, and sometimes goodies added to her kibble.

Ashley, I think you can buy an international money order?

Well, I was a little surprised to see that my account info didn't show that I had donated last year when you first advertised, instead showing that I had donated in Jan, and I was a little bothered that you had stuff expire before telling us it was going to, so that our inboxes were suddenly full with no explanation, but other than that, I have absolutely no complaints about GT at all. Therefore, my tuppence have been added to your change drawer. Thanks for doing such a good job for us, Jeff!

I saw you at the shelter... thin and scared-looking, huddled next to the worker that you trusted. He handed me your lead, and you walked with us to the lawn outside, but you were still trying to go back inside the building. We got you into the van, and you settled on the mat with a sigh, resting your head on your legs as you watched us and the other grey, wondering what this next phase of your life would be. I petted your rough coat, and you leaned into the caress. You were sooo skinny, little guy, but so friendly, even after your life on the streets. We called you Griffin, until we found out your real name was Bubba. Then we called you Bubba, cause it fit you. You were a "good ol' southern boy," and a joy to have around. When you were at my house, I had to keep the food off the counters, because you would find it in a heartbeat. But you listened when I said "no," and you were a perfect gentleman when we went for walks. I rejoiced when you gained 6 lbs in your first week. You fit in perfectly with the other greys at Dee's house, and were always happy to see me when I'd come there to visit. As your weight and health improved, so did your coat, and you became the gorgeous sleek-coated greyhound you were meant to be. And you found your forever folks... who met you and took you home the same day, and made sure you were never hungry or lonely again. They loved you, Bubba, as much as you loved them, and they promised you they would always be there for you, to help you out. And that's what they did for you today, my friend. You'd been in so much pain lately, and it wasn't going to get any better. So they helped you one last time, even though it broke their hearts. It broke ours, too. We wanted you to have a lot more time to enjoy your new home, and to rejoice in being loved and cared for. But we don't always get what we want, and it was better for you this way, no matter how much it hurts us. you're waiting at the bridge now, and the day will come when you'll all run together again, with no aches and pains, and no memories of the sorrow, only of the joy. mabye I'll get to see you again then, too.

I was just thinking that same thing, and will be sending this link to Dee, so she can pass it on to them. he's the only dog I ever fostered (and it was only for a few days, cause I'm not in a position to foster, right now). He was *such* a love-bug.

damn... just got home and checked phone messages. There was one from Dee. Sweet Bubba went to the bridge today (or yesterday?). He had some insurmountable health problems, and the only option left was to help him along. When we pulled him from the montgomery shelter last Aug, he was skin and bones (15-20 lbs below his racing weight). I fostered him for a couple weeks, cause we were full up everywhere else (I'm the emergency foster home, I guess). Last October we had our greyhound gathering (reunion/m&g), and Bubba went home with a family who had adopted several other greys from us. They weren't looking for another grey, but she had said on the way in that if there was an older one that just needed some love and attention, they might chip. Then she met Bubba, and that's all there was to it. He had six months with them... six months of being loved and cared for... six months to make up for however long he was running the streets of montgomery as a stray. six months wasn't long enough for such a sweet boy. he deserved so much more than that. This is him a couple days after we pulled him from the shelter.... Five days later, he was already filling out... Angie & I fostered him for a wee bit... And this is him with his new family, right before they left our reunion... When I posted that pic in his gallery, I said that "we know John & Susan will make his remaining years happy ones..." I wish they could have, but at least they made his remaining *months* happy ones. *sob*

ya know, I was just thinking about her today, because I think about her everytime I have to hoist Angie into my truck cab (she *hates* riding in the truck, or most other vehicles, for that matter, and never willingly goes into them). Everytime I hoist her in, I remember Dee saying "Andi *loves* to travel", and find myself wondering if I'd made the right choice in picking this sweet girl instead of that one. Guess I'll stop wondering, now.

Last March, when I contacted Greyt Friends about learning more about greys, in the hopes of adopting one, Dee listened to what I was looking for, what my lifestyle was, and said "we've got a couple senior girls. Angie and Andi. THey're both wonderful, but Andi *loves* to travel. And she's black" which was what I was looking for - a black dog, female, senior, that would go places with me. So I went to Dee's house, where both the girls were fostering, and Angie came up to me, looked into my eyes, and licked my chin. I was hooked, and she's been in my heart since April, and in my home since May. But Andi always had a special place, too. She was my "almost" dog. I rejoiced when she was adopted out, even though I missed her when I was house-sitting for Dee. Today, while Dee and I were talking about prospects for our availables, she said that Highway's mom was looking for a new senior girl, since she had to let Andi go to the bridge a couple weeks ago. I was stunned. Turns out my sweet "almost" dog had osteo, and there was nothing they could do for her. Andi and Angie were the first greys I met, and it was just a fluke that the dog who stole my heart was not the black female I went there to meet, but the "yeller dawg" that licked my chin that day. She wasn't mine, but I find myself crying anyway, because she was my friend. Run free, old girl....enjoy your new life.

You're welcome... I was missing my mom yesterday, and we played that song at her funeral.

"I Believe" (Diamond Rio) Every now and then, soft as breath upon my skin I feel you come back again And it's like you haven't been gone a moment from my side Like the tears were never cried Like the hands of time are holding you and me And with all my heart I'm sure we're closer than we ever were I don't have to hear or see, I've got all the proof I need There are more than angels watching over me I believe, I believe Chorus That when you die your life goes on It doesn't end here when you're gone Every soul is filled with light It never ends and if I'm right Our love can even reach across eternity I believe, I believe Forever, you're a part of me Forever, in the heart of me And I'll hold you even longer if I can The people who don't see the most Say that I believe in ghosts And if that makes me crazy, then I am 'Cause I believe There are more than angels watching over me I believe, I believe

yes, they are... and rejoicing in what they see, i'm sure.

I bet she is, too, which might be why I was finally able to write her a birthday message. I'll post a photo, at some point, maybe. I just remembered... she's had several dogs and cats over the years since I've left home. I'd forgotten about them, but it's nice to think that she was met at the bridge by them, as well as by her friends and other family. better yet, it seems that I'm finally able to cry, since writing that.

January 4, 1930.... a cold wintry ohio day, I'm sure... a baby girl was born to an alcoholic mother and a coal-miner father. The first of 3, she had a hard life, and never felt loved by her mother. She spent her entire life looking for her mommy's approval. Her father died of TB. In this woman's veins ran the blood of Charlemagne, as well as of her circuit-riding great-grandfather, who had the honor of guarding Lincoln's body when it lay in state in Columbus, on its way to burial in Illinois. But her childhood belied her heritage, and she left home and married at 18, a high-school dropout. Her early years shaped her perspectives on life, as they tend to do, but they did not trap her. She rose above the poverty, and the alcohol, and the abuse. They shaped her, but they did not define her. (to get an idea of her early years, watch the movie "Coal Miner's Daughter" - I took Mom to see that, and she said it was like watching her childhood) She had the strength to leave her first husband, when he decided she made a good punching bag, and when she wound up pregnant from her live-in boyfriend, she was perfectly willing to raise the child on her own, without remarrying. Her boyfriend's wishes won out, however, and mom and dad were married in Oct of 1954, with my brother being born the following March. She had six pregnancies in as many years, with four children surviving to adulthood (one miscarriage, one crib death). As has been said elsewhere, all of her children graduated high school, and all of them knew that Mom would be there for them if they needed her. Her oldest daughter followed the family tradition, with a pregnancy that led to marriage, in the same year that my dad had his stroke. Mom was dealing with her concerns about dad's health at the same time that she was dealing with becoming a grandmother. Dad is still going strong, almost 30 years after he was supposed to have died, and that first grandson is 26 years old now, and starting a program at a local technical college. She did not have an easy life, but she would not have expected life to be easy. In an era of two-parent families, she was an ersatz single mother, because Dad was a truck driver, and on the road 70 hours a week (or more). Even so, she was present in our lives, leading our scout troops, walking us to church every sunday, and walking my brother to high school when he kept trying to play hooky. She survived more than I've even experienced, and more than I want to experience. She kept going through things that would have lead many folks to just sit down and give up. If I can become one-half the woman she was, with one-fourth the strength, I will consider myself lucky. Dec 12, 2003. A cold wintry Ohio night, I'm sure. She settled herself to sleep in her recliner (she could breathe easier there than in bed - something about smoking for 50+ years), and fell asleep. When she woke up, she was no longer in any pain from arthritis, and didn't have to cough and choke all the crap out of her lungs in order to breathe. When dad found her, he thought she was sleeping, because she looked peaceful, with a half-smile on her face. So he let her sleep, until he realized it was almost noon and she'd not gotten up yet. As he went to wake her, he realized that she wouldn't wake up here, ever again. I find very little comfort, right now, in the knowledge that she knew how highly I regarded her, and how proud I was of her. I'd give anything to have her back again, so I could call her on the 4th and sing happy birthday to her just one more time. i love you, mommy... thanks for being who you were, and helping make me who I am.

I've had Angie 5 months and I've bathed her twice - the first time was right after I got her, cause she needed it. Then in Aug, just cause I felt like I should. I don't notice that she smells. I'm thinking of having her bathed/groomed soon, though, cause we've got a M&G coming up in a couple weeks, and I've got a coupon for $10 off services at the petcare place. I"d like her to be all pretty and clean for the M&G.

Just curious -- any idea how much $$ has been generated by this little idea you had, Rockingship? edit: Since I was curious, I just went through this thread, and marked down everytime someone said they were sending a check. Someone sent $50 - but I think it was Canadian - no idea what that is in USD, and not sure if it was USD or Canadian, so I'm keeping it separate. Some folks were unclear as to amount sent (which is cool - it's not about bragging rights). I counted $10 for each dog asked about (and one person listed SIX dogs!), and I've got a hunch this total will be conservative, but even before adding it up, it's impressive. I'm counting 52 times someone said "check's in the mail" or words to that affect. I'll be back with a total (estimated) after I've dug out my calculator. ok, I'm back... looks like GTers have sent in somewhere in the neighborhood of $850, plus that $50 I'm not sure is US or Canadian. :bannana :bannana

Read this in CG Magazine, and immediately thought of you and your loss..... "One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the rememberance of my ... happy life with you: 'Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.' No matter how deep my sleep, I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail." -- Eugene O'Neill, "The Last Will and Testament of an Extremely Distinguished Dog" gentle hugs,

Hey! Wigwam Wag is my angie's sire! (and also her stud, for one litter, according to greyhound data) http://www.greyhound-data.com/db.php?p=251480 SS Jeno is in Angie's line, too, a couple generations back

can you imagine if EACH member of greytalk sent $10 ???? Wouldn't that be wonderful????

either one - it seems that one is plainfield, the other is bridgeport. Both of them have 100 dogs awaiting homes. Can someone find out if there is a paypal option? all we need is an email addy. thanks.

yahoo must be slow today - there's nothing there.

Rest in peace.

Give yourself time. You had Millie for years, I assume (sorry, I'm not familiar with your story), and she was an integral part of your life. When a spouse or other close family member dies, it can take upwards of 2 years to process the grief (or longer). Millie was a close family member. Allow yourself to grieve her. When the time is right for another dog, you'll know.

thanks! it's as bad as owning a grey, isn't it? Does the new server have a fancy collar yet?