gazehund

Dang. Hope your regular vet can sort this out Heather. Please keep us posted. for Rocky and for you.

As difficult as it is to part with any of our beloved hounds, I believe losing your first is the most difficult. I understand. Rest well Palu.

I am so terribly sorry for your loss. Rest well Hardday.

Welcome home Lucy!! Congrats!!

Sigrun I am so sorry. Rest well Jax.

What a sweet faced little girl! Welcome home Goodness.

to Ekko.

Such a serene all knowing look on his beautiful face. Glad to hear you can remember your boy now with a smile rather than a tear.

Feel better soon Pepper !

I am so sorry Lily could not stay. Rest well sweet girl.

I don't have to make the choice. It is done for me. The groups here don't run in July at all and only late August. We are a lot further North than you are, but it does get very humid here. Dodger had a bad cramp his event before last. Just one practice run, but it was humid. He was not hydrated enough and he cramped. Black dog who is crazy focused at a meet and with a still fuzzy coat. Scared the crap out of me. Needless to say hydration was not a problem at the next event and DD was fine. I also agree with Heather and Pam. If the ground is hot, dry and resembles concrete, I am not going to run my dog. If it is soggy, wet and slippery, I am not going to run my dog. I do straight line racing only. Dodger loves it. It is supposed to be fun for him, not get him hurt.

What a cool cat with a long life well lived with you and Kevin. I am sorry your Princess had to leave, but happy you had her in your life. Rest well Xena.

I am going to say...........yes. Water lovers here. Parson's Beach Maine. Sacandaga Lake near home in the Adirondacks. Dodger and Pearl are waders. Pooter is a submersible.

I understand.

Kathleen Gilley's article per request of Miss Heather Junebug's new life from HER point of view. 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.

You have gotten good advice already. I am sorry to hear this diagnosis for Sherman. Many of us have been down this road. Hugs to you and your boy.

I am very sorry for your loss. Rest well Winston.

Hopefully Rocky will feel better by tomorrow.

No advice to offer but i do have plenty of prayers for you and Rocky. Please keep us posted Heather.

Maybe they just needed to be together Bev. I am sorry Poppy had to leave so soon after Tetley. Rest well pretty girl.

Another vote for the impossibility of 7 years since that terrible time. We haven't forgotten you Iberia and never will.

I am sorry Tetley had to leave Bev. A life lived with you is what every dog would ask for if he could. Rest well Tetley.

A life well lived and well loved, like so many before her. I am sorry she had to leave you Ducky. Rest well little Nina.

Just seeing this Sigrun. Thinking of you and Jax today.

How is Mr. Bullet doing today Linda?