kernowdogs

Of course you can get 2 Greyhounds into a Ford Focus, though how much room would be left for you is another question. If you drop the back seat the dogs will have plenty of room but if you are trying to get two people, their luggage and two Greys will be a bit tight. I suspect that the biggest problem would be headroom in the boot for the dogs, if they can manage with the back seat then you should be home and dry.

Thanks for your welcomes, folks. I am working on pictures, they'll be with you dreckly (well, hopefully quicker than that). With luck I will be able to come up with one of every dog. In case anybody was wondering, "Deth Da" is the Cornish for "Good day". Cornish is related to Breton and Welsh and, more distantly, to Scots and Irish Gaelic. Jerilyn, Murphy was very special. As an illustration, my brother-in-law had a triple bypass and came to us to recuperate. Murphy was with him day and night for about three weeks, he only came out for food, toilet and his daily walk. He is still with us every day, Linda has his face as the wallpaper on her PC.

Welcome to the failed fosterer club. Most people eventually join, I know of someone who joined and has renewed their membership four times since! They look to be getting you well trained already. 😃👍

I'm Rob and I've been lurking on the board for a couple of weeks, so it's probably time to put my head above the parapet and say hello. I live with my wife Linda in East Cornwall (UK) in a small village. We have no shop and no pub, but you can buy a tractor because there is an agricultural vehicle dealer / repair shop. We have reached that stage of maturity where we are both retired so have lots of time to devote to our dogs. Our canine history together began about 27 years ago with a puppy who was one of the results on an 'accidental' mating between the dogs owned by one of my wife's near neighbours. Dad was a Border Collie / Bearded Collie cross and Mum was some sort of mongrel. Cassie looked a little like a Pyranean Sheepdog (not the mountain dog), grey and hairy. When we moved from the outskirts of London to Cornwall about 5 years later we got a spotty thing from a local rescue. Polly was about six months old, and there was definitely some Dalmatian in there but what else was anybody's guess. She was very timid and afraid of the dark, we had to get a child's nightlight for her to sleep peacefully. I had become a driving instructor and was giving lessons to a lady who recognised her as having been kept in a cupboard by one of her neighbours, which explained quite a lot. After three or four years we were getting her more relaxed, though we couldn't take her anywhere busy because she would just go to pieces. That wasn't a problem, we just avoided busy places. What was a problem was when we noticed a lump in her neck, which turned out to be very aggressive Lymphoma. She went from being an apparently healthy dog to being put to sleep in less than a month. That shook everybody up somewhat, Linda was scouring the internet for a new dog and I think we had visited every dog rescue site in Devon and Cornwall. She came accross a picture of a dog's nose at a rescue in East Devon and thought "that's the one for us". A phone call told us that he was reserved but had the family coming back with their dog to meet him the following morning, but why didn't we come up anyway? The following afternoon we turned up to be told that the other dog had taken an immediate (and violent) dislike to Murphy, who was a Greyhound / Border Collie Lurcher. Fortunately he and Cassie had no problems when they were introduced, so he joined the family. He turned out to be the most gentle, caring soul you could wish for. If you were down or not well he would be there to look after you. Via the internet we had got involved with a couple of South Wales based rescues doing home checks, which lead to fostering. It was mainly puppies, often with Staffy in them. Murphy looked after them the same way that he looked after everybody else. On one occasion I returned from a training course in South Wales with two new fosters in the car. One was a West Highland puppy farm stud dog who our daughter promptly christened 'bog brush', he both looked and smelled like one! He had never been in a house before and coped with being dunked straight in the shower very well. We had arranged to bring him down because our next door neighbours had expressed a wish to have a Westie to join their older Jack Russell. Robbie spent two nights with us and then went next door to see how he got on with the Jack Russell, the answer being extremely well so there he stayed. The other dog was another spotty thing who was seriously screwed up. He had been born on a puppy farm in West Wales where they bred Dalmatians, but by all accounts a Jack Russell got there first (where there's a will there's a way). He appears to have been somebody's Christmas present but was rehomed in March. He was rehomed again in about May with someone who had an elderly dog, pale carpets and furnishings and OCD which meant that she vacuumed the place three times a day. He was in rescue by July. Jake really hadn't been socialised at all and had experienced no stability in his life at all. Murphy took him under his wing and we started to make some progress. He learned about puddles, when he arrived he wouldn't go near them but in later life would charge through them, turn round and have another go. Jake was always reactive to other dogs he didn't know, he never physically attacked them but he sure did a lot of shouting. He loved puppies though, so we still had the occasional foster. He, however stayed with us. another rehome would have been too much for him. Jake coped with Cassie's passing quite well, she had become a bit of a recluse so he had less contact with her. When Murphy's time came, however, it hit him very hard. His rock was gone and he needed some company. Given his distrust of older dogs it would have to be a puppy. Enter Florence, a Rough Collie / Miniature Poodle cross, the only dog we have had who was not a rescue. None of the rescues had puppies who here right for both him and us. She fitted in really well and had the added bonus that she doesn't moult, to set against that she does need to be clipped every other month. Just on a year ago Jake left us, which left a very large hole in our lives. Our experience with Murphy had got us thinking about the prospect of a rescue Greyhound, so we started looking. The big issue was that although there were dogs looking for homes, due to home checking as we were coming out of lock-down all of the rescues we talked to were only prepared to home within about an hour's travel time. The internet took a bashing again and one Monday morning Linda saw a photo of George, who had been rehomed but returned as the man of the house was alergic to his hair. Ring them NOW was the command I received, so I rang the rescue in Birmingham. First question I asked was "we're in East Cornwall, is that a problem for you rehoming to us?" Not necessarily was the reply. We had a chat about our circumstances and the offer was made to put a hold on him until we had a chance to visit with Florence. The next day we made the 4 hour drive to the rescue, arriving at about 12:30. Four hours later, having introduced the dogs, looked at photos of the house and garden and discussed of doggy history, we set out for home with two dogs. It was actually Florence's fifth birthday, George was not quite 3, so she had the toy boy she was looking for! George has now been with us for a tad over 6 months and really hasn't put a paw wrong. He has discovered walking in the woods, said hello to so many dogs of all shapes and sizes without batting an eyelid and has proved to be exactly who we were hoping for. Sorry if this has gone on a bit, but I'd like to finish up with a big thank you to Daybreaks Trust just opposite the airport at Elmdon. They have been the most helpful and friendly rescue we have ever dealt with.

Dogs certainly grieve for companions. Last November we lost Jake at 15, a Dalmatian / Jack Russel cross (!) who had come to us as foster when 9 months old - we were his fourth home! Our other dog Florence, who had come to us as a puppy and was 4 1/2 years old, was lost without her mentor. Being in the tail end of a lockdown didn't help. It took us 6 months but we finally found the dog we were looking for and rehomed George, a 3 year old Greyhound (formerly known as Coyote Storm) in May on Florence's 5th birthday. She enjoys having her toy boy around and is back to her old self. There is no doubt that the 450 mile round trip to meet and adopt George was well worth it. I have been lurking here for a couple of weeks, intending to do an intro in the appropriate place. I'll get round to that 'dreckly'. For non-British readers, 'dreckly' is a word which can cause problems. It is a Cornish expression which is sometimes interpreted as meaning 'directly / right away'. In fact it means 'I'll do it directly I get round to it'. It could be in 2 minutes or 2 hours or 2 days or 2 weeks / months / years / decades. It's similar to the Welsh expression 'I'll do it now in a minute". I daresay that most people have an equivalent expression.