We have always adopted dogs. Most were successes; a few failures. Several years ago, Betsy (my wife) became intrigued with adopting a greyhound. We live in Florida, where there are quite a few dog tracks, so availability is certainly not a problem. About 6 years ago, we adopted Grandy, a 2-year old female who had never raced - but had certainly been abused. Her spirit had been so broken that she seemed to adopt the attitude, "If I don't do anything at all, I can't do anything wrong."
Six years of care and attention and love have almost brought her out of her timid shell, but she still won't get up to greet, won't "ask" to be petted (although it's obvious she loves it), and won't walk past me without edging away - it was obviously a man who abused her. We had gotten used to her being a "statue" and couldn't help thinking all greyhounds were like that.
About a month ago, we took a trip in our motor home from Florida to North Georgia (with Grandy along, of course). On the way, we stopped (with the other two couples who were caravanning with us) at a fast food restaurant in Ocala. A small truck pulled in; it had a closed back with several small louvered doors on both sides. "What do you think is in that truck?", my wife asked. Our friend, knowing how she felt, teased her, "Greyhounds, of course." The truck driver came in the restaurant. "What are you carrying?", my wife asked. "Greyhounds", he said, "14 of them." "Really? Where are they going?" "To a training farm, to learn to race." "Oh, the poor things. We adopted a greyhound six years ago, and she was abused."
"Well", he said, "These are certainly not abused. But, there are two of them who won't make good racers. They'd make good pets, or...." It was obvious what he meant. "Would you like another dog?", he asked. "I'll get them out of the truck and you can choose one." It didn't take long for all of us to pile out into the parking lot, where he opened a door and brought out two dogs. He said they were about 14 months old and had been kennel trained (house broken).
One was a brindle female and the other a bond male. They looked healthy. We were willing to take a chance in order to save a dog. How to choose? We couldn't take both. The female was timid, tail between her legs. We already had one of those. The male was active, friendly, wagging tail. When we learned his name was Rocky, the decision was made - Betsy knew I had always thought "Rocky" an appropriate name for a large, yaller dog.
We took him on the spot, no questions asked. The driver turned out to be the owner of the training farm and gave us his business card, which had a photo of an impressive facility. We loaded Rocky into the motor home with Grandy and headed off on our two week vacation - we'd soon learn whether we made a mistake.
Both dogs were used to being around other dogs, so there were no problems. But that night, in an RV campground in Perry, Georgia, about 4:00 AM, Rocky apparently decided it was time to go out and do his "business". He pawed at the lever door handle, which we had neglected to lock, and out he went. We're deep sleepers and never heard a thing. About 6:00 AM, Betsy got up to check the dogs - and no Rocky. We promptly went out and scoured the campground, which had a small, open gate. Then, we walked for blocks around the main street of Perry. No Rocky. Betsy was distraught.
I called the local animal control number, expected a message, but got connected to the local 911 center. They had no report of a loose dog, but they took my cell number. A few minutes later, they called back - a deputy had picked up a greyhound about 4:30 AM! It was a Saturday, and the animal control offer had the day off, but she was scheduled to be manning an adoption booth at the local farmer's market. We soon made arrangements to meet her, and soon after, she brought Rocky to us, in perfect health!
The animal control in Perry, Georgia has a "no kill" philosophy and aggressively raises funds to feed and house the animals until they are adopted. If you're in the neighborhood, make a donation! The officer, Happy (that really is her name!) had a friend who wanted a greyhound, so we gave her the information on the training farm, and she planned to go down and adopt Christie, the female we couldn't take.
This story is already too long, so to cut it short, the trip went great. We attract a lot of attention with two greyhounds (black and tan), and everyone loves Rocky. We've been home for a couple of weeks, and already he is starting to teach Grandy how to be a dog, bringing her out of her shell a little. He's gentle, friendly and loves our small granddaughters, but he is mischevious -- he can steal a hotdog off a granddaughter's plate with nobody noticing. We're working on that, giving him something better to do while we're eating. He also gets things out of our closet to tease us. He never hurts them, just carries them to the center of the living room and leaves them where we can find them. He favors stuffed animals, but has never chewed one.
The vet has given him a clean bill. We have no idea why he wasn't going to be a good race dog, except that maybe he's too friendly. He's as fast as the wind.
Congratulations on Grandy and Rocky. Greyhounds are the most wonderful dogs. We love our Mexicali to pieces. Sorry to hear that your first was abused. I guess that happens sometimes, but hopefully that is becoming less of a problem as more and more of the dogs go up for adoption. I know there are also responsible dedicated breeders and trainers out there. I’m sure trainers don’t want to earn that kind of reputation and hopefully more tracks will adopt no-kill policies. Here’s a picture of Mexicali.
Thats a very great story I do hope that Rocky shows Grandy how to be a real dog. I understand it takes a while for animals that have been abused because I volunteer at an animal shelter.
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