gazehund

It is just 7 now so do let us know what you find out. Good luck!

I saw this in the big list Sherry. Very well said and I totally agree. So do Pearl, Pooter and Dodger.

Well crap. All I can offer is prayers and support. Y'all have that.

It's good to see your little angel again Michelle. I love the beach at Gloucester too.

Good news Kristin and Sutra!

OUTSTANDING Jen and Neyla!!

All my dogs are fuzzy or I would be tempted to try that stuff. Yay for fuzz!

You are not alone. I miss mine too.

Hoping for more good days than bad for you and your special boy Linda.

Why did you ask the question when clearly your mind had already been made up about dogs being dogs? Yes, greyhounds are dogs but they are also sighthounds which again you clearly know nothing about, yet you seem to think you do. Makes no difference because by now every adoption group in Georgia (and surrounding states) knows about you and you will not be adopting a greyhound from any of them. In the future when you think it is a brilliant idea to come to a board as a brand new poster you might want to THINK before you attack anyone, let alone a long time board member, greyhound ambassador and greyhound seizure expert. Excuse me, I am off to share some onion rings with my hounds. Shall I call the food police now or do you want to?

Gorgeous and I agree. She looks very happy and comfortable in your home. Thank you for the photos!

Our neighbors (they are about a half mile away) will put on a nice display tonight. Fireworks are illegal in NY but they do a show every year. They are dang good at it too, it is a really good show. None of my dogs react to them in any way. I feel for you guys.

Can we see your girl? Pretty please?

Just to clarify. Kathleen Gilley is the author of that piece, not me. I wish I knew half of what she knows!

Pam. You did what you had to do to keep your boy. I so admire and respect you for that.

To the OP. Pooter has been in our home it will be 2 years in September. This morning, for the first time, she hopped up on the bed with us. Out of the blue. So there is hope. Give you girl time. I would address the growling issue though and I wonder if she might have some pain in the back end that is causing a bit of her standoffish-ness. I would check that out with her vet if you haven't already. Please read this. I have posted it a million times and I will post it a million times more. Not only do sight hounds posses an inherent independent mind, but retired racers have even more to deal with when they become a pet. None of which has anything whatsoever to do with any kind of abuse. Your girls new life from HER point of view. By Kathleen Gilley Of all breeds of dogs, the ex-racing Greyhound has never had to be responsible for anything in his life. His whole existence has been a dog-centered one. This breed has never been asked to do anything for itself, make any decisions or answer any questions. It has been waited on, paw and tail. The only prohibition in a racing Greyhound's life is not to get into a fight----------------or eat certain stuff in the turn out pen. Let us review a little. From weaning until you go away for schooling, at probably a year and a half, you eat, grow and run around with your siblings. When you go away to begin your racing career, you get your own "apartment," in a large housing development. No one is allowed in your bed but you, and when you are in there, no one can touch you, without plenty of warning. Someone hears a vehicle drive up, or the kennel door being unlocked. The light switches are flipped on. The loud mouths in residence, and there always are some, begin to bark or howl. You are wide awake by the time the human opens your door to turn you out. A Greyhound has never been touched while he was asleep. You eat when you are fed, usually on a strict schedule. No one asks if you are hungry or what you want to eat. You are never told not to eat any food within your reach. No one ever touches your bowl while you are eating. You are not to be disturbed because it is important you clean your plate. You are not asked if you have to "go outside." You are placed in a turn out pen and it isn't long before you get the idea of what you are supposed to do while you are out there. Unless you really get out of hand, you may chase, rough house and put your feet on everyone and every thing else. The only humans you know are the "waiters" who feed you, and the "restroom attendants" who turn you out to go to the bathroom. Respect people? Surely you jest. No one comes into or goes out of your kennel without your knowledge. You are all seeing; all knowing. There are no surprises, day in and day out. The only thing it is ever hoped you will do is win, place or show, and that you don't have much control over. It is in your blood, it is in your heart, it is in your fate-- or it is not. And when it is not, then suddenly you are expected to be a civilized person in a fur coat. But people don't realize you may not even speak English. Some of you don't even know your names, because you didn't need to. You were not asked or told to do anything as an individual; you were always part of the "condo association?; the sorority or fraternity and everyone did everything together, as a group or pack. The only time you did anything as an individual is when you schooled or raced, and even then, You Were Not Alone. In my "mobile abode," the Greyhounds each have several unique names, but they also have a single common name: it is Everybody. We continue to do things as a group, pack or as we are affectionately known in-house, by Kathleen's Husbandit, "The Thundering Herd." Back to those who have not been permanently homed. Suddenly, he is expected to behave himself in places he's never been taught how to act. He is expected to take responsibility for saying when he needs to go outside, to come when he is called, not to get on some or all of the furniture, and to not eat food off counters and tables. He is dropped in a world that is not his, and totally without warning, at that. Almost everything he does is wrong. Suddenly he is a minority. Now he is just a pet. He is unemployed, in a place where people expect him to know the rules and the schedule, even when there aren't any. (How many times have you heard someone say, "He won't tell me when he has to go out." What kind of schedule is that?) Have you heard the joke about the dog who says, "My name is No-No Bad Dog. What's yours?" To me that is not even funny. All the protective barriers are gone. There is no more warning before something happens. There is no more strength in numbers. He wakes up with a monster human face two inches from his. (With some people's breath, this could scare Godzilla.) Why should he not, believe that this "someone," who has crept up on him, isn't going to eat him for lunch? (I really do have to ask you ladies to consider how you would react if someone you barely knew crawled up on you while you were asleep?) No, I will not ask for any male input. Now he is left alone, for the first time in his life, in a strange place, with no idea of what will happen or how long it will be before someone comes to him again. If he is not crated, he may go though walls, windows or over fences, desperately seeking something familiar, something with which to reconnect his life. If he does get free, he will find the familiarity, within himself: the adrenaline high, the wind in his ears, the blood pulsing and racing though his heart once again--until he crashes into a car. Often, the first contact with his new family is punishment, something he's never had before, something he doesn't understand now, especially in the middle of the rest of the chaos. And worst of all, what are the most common human reactions to misbehavior? We live in a violent society, where the answer to any irritation is a slap, punch, kick, whip, or rub your nose in it. Under these circumstances, sometimes I think any successful adoption is a miracle. He is, in effect, expected to have all the manners of at least a six-year old child. But, how many of you would leave an unfamiliar six-year old human alone and loose in your home for hours at a time and not expect to find who knows what when you got back? Consider that if you did, you could be brought up on charges of child abuse, neglect and endangerment. Yet, people do this to Greyhounds and this is often the reason for so many returns. How many dogs have been returned because they did not know how to tell the adoptor when they had to go out? How many for jumping on people, getting on furniture, counter surfing, separation anxiety, or defensive actions due to being startled or hurt (aka growling or biting)? So, let's understand: Sometimes it is the dog's "fault" he cannot fit in. He is not equipped with the social skills of a six-year old human. But with your love and help, you can make it happen.

That aloofness is a hound trait in general and a sighthound trait in particular. Sighthounds are a very independent breed. Bred for thousands of years to hunt on their own without looking to man for direction or assistance. Since November is not really all that long. Give her time.

This is sighthound / amateur racing specific, but I like it. If the link doesn't work search for Avoiding Heat Related Injuries in Dogs by Dr Nate Baxter DVM. http://www.ambushkennels.com/Avoiding%20Heat%20Related%20Injuries%20in%20Dogs.pdf The link works for me.

I hope so! Keeping fingers crossed you are on the right track with Rocky.

Good thoughts and prayers for Mr. Fixer today.

No. 3 year rabies required by NY law and that is it.

I guess the best advice I can offer is to slow down, clear your head as much as possible of the future and live in the minute (second if you have to ) with your dog. You know what is coming......he does not. Spend your time with Sherman wisely for today at least, is not the day. I do understand.

Keeping you guys in my thoughts and prayers. How terribly frustrating.

Oh no Kim!! I am so, so sorry. I lost 3 beloved hounds in 11 months time. I know how painful it is. Rest well Dallas. Your work here is finished.

A life well lived and well loved with you Jordan. I am sorry Bailey had to leave. The time we have with our hounds is never long enough. Rest well little one.