rainbow bridge
2006 and before

This page is dedicated to the animals who have passed on from our lives, but will never be absent from our hearts.

When a pet dies, they go to a special place just for animals called the Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.all the animals who have been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.

Send us pictures, stories, poems, etc. of your beloved animals that have passed. Simply e-mail Emily at goinc@comcast.net

Walt
 (8/20/1994-11/3/2006)


I remember the day I met Walt as if it was just yesterday. My friend Joy accompanied me to one of the kennels at Dairyland where we met Linda. I was adopting my 2nd greyhound and both Linda and Joy knew my first greyhound Rush well. My criteria for this second dog were few: I wanted another male, as I’d never had a female dog, he would need to get along with Rush and not be likely to challenge him for the alpha position, and he couldn’t be a brindle, I’d never seen a brindle dog that looked good in it’s coat up until that time.

Linda easily handled my first 2 criteria showing me only males who were omega boys. She didn’t know about my 3rd criteria and in retrospect I’m eternally grateful that I never mentioned it to either her or Joy. I don’t remember exactly how many dogs I was shown that day, I only remember two. A beautiful boy that I passed over because his coloring reminded me too much of the dog I had lost earlier in the year and Walter.

Walter was a lean, long-legged brindle boy with a gorgeous black muzzle and ears that stood perfectly erect on his head. The best description of him at that moment was that Walter was a proper gentleman. He was a shy boy who did not approach on his own but never took his eyes off me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him either and to my amazement when I thought about it later that day the only thing that I remember seeing was his wonderful face. The fact that he was a brindle was completely lost in my mind’s eye. When the kennel owner/trainer came in Walt’s entire persona changed. He got happy, started wagging his tail and was bouncing up and down like a child who had just been given the Christmas gift he had wanted and been longing for all year long. At that moment I decided that Walter was the boy for me. While I’d seen the silly side of his personality I decided to continue to call him Walter because he was so elegant, reserved, and refined.

When Walter came home he continued to be his shy, elegant, gentlemanly self, picking a spot in the living room behind my recliner for his “during the day” location and settling into a small space between my dresser and the closet door for his night-time spot. These remained his for his entire life, only in the last few years and then only ocassionally could he be found lying somewhere else. While he wouldn’t take treats from me unless I dropped them on the floor for him to pick up and I had to be sitting down before he would approach his bowl and eat his meals. He became my “watch dog” greyhound. He would bark at the window whenever people walked in front the house or cars pulled into the driveway. During my two week holiday vacation Walter finally started to take treats from me and approach me more willingly for pets and affection.

Walt and his Kimmy

After the holidays I started taking the boys to meet and greets. Walter hated them and despite the fact that I continued to bring him along with me every month for years his behavior really never changed much. He would hide behind me and back away from people who tried to pet him or hide under the table I brought along. There were only a few times at these functions that Walter seemed to forget where he was and what was going on. The first time was when he first met Kimmy, a greyhound in foster, in February and then the second time a month later when Kimmy was again at the meet and greet. Watching Walter’s behavior when he was around Kimmy was a big part of the reason I brought Kimmy home forever from that second meet and greet. Kimmy was Walter’s “heart girl” and with her I think he felt he had a purpose-to take care of her and protect her. This was only too evident on our first walk together when Kimmy came home. A small dog came running across the street to meet us and big, shy, reserved Walter jumped out in front of Kimmy and barked and growled at the interloper until he turned and ran home. It was the only time in all the years Walter was with me that I’d ever seen even a hint of aggressiveness in his temperament.

After Kimmy’s arrival Walter’s behavior changed, at least around us in the house or the yard. While he didn’t cling to Kimmy, he seemed to feel more comfortable and confident with her around. He became a bit more gregarious and bouncy. His actions were reminiscent of the display I had seen with the kennel owner the day I adopted Walter. He also started rubbing himself up and down on my clothing every morning as if to mark me with his scent in order to tell the world that I was owned. It was at time that I started calling him Walt or Walty. While he was still reserved, shy, and elegant in public he was a totally different boy with us at home and I got the feeling that while I had signed the paperwork to adopt three greyhounds by this time, it was only Walt who felt he need to show me that he had adopted me. If I left everyone in the yard and walked out to get the mail or pick-up trash it was Walt who made a big display of coming over to greet me when I walked back inside the fence. He would follow me around the yard when I did clean-up and he would stand close to me whenever we stopped on our walks.

The years passed all too quickly and before I knew it Walt’s face was white and his red brindle coat was also fading to white. He always loved to lie in the sun and relax after a short trot around the yard in the warm months, he equally enjoyed a brief romp in newly fallen snow, but most of all he enjoyed going for a walk whether it be short or long. There were only two things that Walt disliked, thunder and fireworks. During storms and on July 4th he would abandon whatever spot he was reclining in for the safety and security of the bathtub where he would fall asleep and wait for the noise to be over.

He grew sillier around me at home over the years but would never show this side to anyone else, although he did become a tad bit more social with people who would come to our home. In the beginning he would simply bark at them from a distance and then retreat to his spot in the bedroom for safety but later he started to venture out and actually approach people he knew and allow himself to be petted.

When Kimmy passed away in May we were all hit hard but Walt was devastated. Just as he seemed to be bouncing back a bit in July we were dealt another blow with the loss of Stinger. Walt spiraled downward again. Knowing that there could never be another “Kimmy” as far as Walt was concerned I introduced him to a new sister in the hopes that a female would make life a bit better for him and all of us. Tina came into our lives and did help to make Walt’s last months with us happier. When Walt went to the bridge to be with his heart girl he was 4 days shy of his 9 year anniversary with me. His brothers, Rush and Wrigley, and his new sister Tina were with him and said their goodbyes as I said mine.

Walt, enjoy the sun and the shade at the bridge. We know you are happy again and running with both Kimmy and Stinger and that you will all be there waiting for each of us to arrive in our turn. I’m sorry it took so long to write this for you, it was a difficult labor of love to get through. You are much missed but never forgotten. Until we are together again…

With our love always,
Kathy, Rush, Wrigley and Tina

 

Maiden

Beloved companion to the Dziedzic family, beautiful, sweet Maiden passed away December 30th, 2006. She was 9-1/2 yrs. old and was diagnosed with the onset of kidney failure about six months before her passing. She was not given long to live; however, with medication, love and care she hung in there to the very end. She was a very special pet to our entire family all and we loved her and will miss her. We know she is chasing rabbits, squirrels, sunning herself and running with all the other greyhounds that have sadly gone before her up in heaven - since all "good dogs go to heaven."

-- Mark, Christine, Zachary and Jacob Dziedzic, 2006

 

Our Beloved Eagle
(8/22/94 – 7/13/06)


I remember the trip to Dairyland Adoption back in June of 1996. Adoption groups for greyhounds were in their infancy, nowhere as popular as they are today, or at least Diane and I weren’t familiar with them at the time. I remember Eagle walking into the house, inspecting the place, and sprawling out onto the floor and doing that little thing with his paw --- his trademark front leg movement for “pet me please” to all newcomers. It worked like a charm every time. That was the day he said – “I’m home.” I remember the first night, thinking that we could let him sleep with us, no crate, and no barriers, just the three of us. What sticks in my mind that night (at 3am) is seeing him run down the stairs with a stuffed hippo in his mouth, doing a number two in the dining room. This event wasn’t funny at the time, but it’s pretty funny when you do think about it now. He played somewhat in his younger years, and on his own terms. I would say that Eagle enjoyed just being with people, giving them hugs, instead of chasing the stuffed toy. He would randomly play with a toy that caught his fancy every once in a while, but never really enjoyed the sport of it. Eagle was a lover, not a fighter. I also recall the summer of 1998, for that was the summer that Eagle was involved with the “massacre of the bunnies.” He shook the bunnies enough to break their little necks, killing them instantly in some cases. He took out four (4) of them, with the fifth one committing suicide in the neighbor’s window well, forcing mommy bunny to never return to the land of Waukegan.

Eagle possessed superior intellect – how many dogs slip their collar to escape a predator, only to find their way home? This occurrence happened during the following summer. Diane’s encounter with a loose Saint Bernard forced Eagle to run back home. I am still amazed that the time it takes one to roll up a hose is enough time for a panting dog to return to the garage, stand there waiting to be let back into the house, while my seemingly crazed wife runs back home with a leash AND collar in hand. Eagle had a good sense of direction and learned where home was. Later that same year, Eagle tipped off to the family on a Labor Day weekend that he enjoyed chicken. So much that he helped himself to an uncooked chicken. I was pretty mad – I had to thaw out more chicken! And the dog could eat just about anything, except for some vegetables. He loved Chex Mix. I remember coming home from work on a weekend, ready to feed my beta fish, only to find that the plastic tube containing beta fish food was missing. I realized about one month later that he ate the tube, food and all, as he puked up the plastic tube intact. Luck was definitely with him on this day.

When we moved into our new home in 2000, his first place to go was the bathtub, not for a shower, just to stand there and hope that things get better. They did, as Eagle no longer needed to be crated in the new house. Once we moved to the new subdivision in Gurnee, Eagle enjoyed walking around the neighborhood, especially Vineyard Park down the street. As the years progressed the walks became smaller in length, but he always worked hard to get to that park because he loved it so much.

August of 2004 was the turning point for Eagle. On the last day of July, I received a call from Diane at work. Eagle had collapsed and couldn’t stand up. Thanks to our good friend Scott, he came to the house, lifted Eagle into Diane’s car, and he was rushed to the Emergency Vet in Grayslake. The doctor told us that his outlook wasn’t good. Something had occurred, perhaps neurological, that incapacitated him. We had several options in front of us. We were prepared for the inevitable, but God was on our side that evening as he miraculously stood up around 8pm. We were able to bring him home the next day, and keep a close watch on him for the following week as he gained back his strength.

The next two years were slower but very happy years for Eagle. He maintained his presence in bed (OUR bed), day or night. HE enjoyed the comfort of a mattress. I built him a special stepping stair to help him get into the bed. He never could figure out how to use it, so we used it to help him get into and out of the car. He traveled with us to Ohio late that summer. Eagle always loved the car, and Grandma, Grandpa and Mike, even until his last day. Moving ahead to December, 2005, I did a voluntary greyhound transport for Greyhounds Only, taking Bommer into Chicago from the Emerald Kennels in Burlington, WI. After this transport, I was ready to adopt a second dog and able to convince Diane that the timing was right to get a second greyhound. In February, 2006, this goofy hound with a big nose entered our life. Kamikaze Gary (aka Gage) was fostered for a few months until the perfect home was located for him. He’s feistier than Eagle, loves to play, loves walks, and especially loves people. His foster mom (you know who you are Aunt Suzie!) did a wonderful job with him. He roos like a basset hound early in the morning (his way of saying “hi” to us) and when it’s close to feeding time. He’s the “protector” of the homestead.

The week we’ll never forget for a long time finally came upon us. Tuesday morning, July 11th, 5:30am, Gage charges out of the room when I am ready for work. Eagle jumps from the bed and lands on the floor. He couldn’t stand up this time. I have to help him stand up and is very wobbly. His right rear paw curls underneath his leg. He manages to walk in the grass fine; everything else about him is fine. He just can’t get up and needs support when going to the bathroom. We are off to see the vet who tells us that it’s the same thing, something neurological. We could submit him for testing, but the cost is too much and there may not be anything we can do. We choose to wait it out. I return home from graduate school on Wednesday night. Eagle cannot stand up, refuses to do so, until I dead lift him into a standing position. He moves, but needs assistance. We know our “old friend” is telling us that it’s over. For dinner that night we give him some ground beef and spoil him all day on Thursday, knowing what must be done. Gage, our normally bratty dog, is more reserved and aware that something is not as it should be.

The following is an excerpt from an email post I delivered to the greyhound email list I subscribe to. The letter was from both of us and best describes the final day.

Two summers ago, Eagle had neurological phenomena occur that left him temporarily incapacitated the weekend of July 31- 1 August of 2004. We thought that would have been the weekend we would lose him, but an act of God occurred when he recovered enough to walk. After a week of nursing him back to health, he was about 80-85% recovered. He wasn't as swift as he once was, and he did need assistance getting in and out of his favorite pastime -- the car, but he was functional. He was afraid of ceramic tiling (it's a good thing because it's expensive anyway) because he would slip more easily in his current state, even afraid of our kitchen floor (which was cheesy vinyl). In the early morning hours of the 11th of July, he woke up, jumped from the bed (per usual), fell to the floor, and couldn't get up.

My very sad news to report is that we had to help Eagle to the Rainbow Bridge yesterday afternoon (July 13th, 2006). Realizing that he didn't WANT to get up anymore and didn't want to even leave the family room, we knew that it was time. We helped him into the yard, carrying him to do his duties, supporting his back end when he had to go to the bathroom (with steroids and water -- you know the rest of the story). When he didn't WANT to do it anymore, his message to us was clear. Yesterday at 2:06pm (13 July 2006) Dan held him in his arms to comfort him, to let him know that we love him, and that his misery would become more comfortable very shortly. He felt no discomfort anymore, succumbed very quickly, and was finally at rest. He was our Bum, our King, our Old Friend, our first ever dog (for both of us). I usually tell others on this list that helps their four-legged friends to the Rainbow Bridge that remembering your friend will keep him or her alive forever. He will be very much alive -- in our hearts --- for a long time.

It was very lonely last night without him in the bed, without the "sigh" of comfort as he snuggles against us, without Mom and Dad's back pain in the morning, without his clock work 9:45pm whining at dad to go to bed. A very solid sleep was in order, one that we haven't had in a long time. His new brother Gage was a little confused by it all, looking for him, wondering why he wasn't in his "designated spot" last night. It will take us all a while to adjust -- now we just have to tell everyone.

Eagle, my Old Friend, you will live on forever in our hearts and in our memories. Let this article be my tribute to you, and may it give you the peace and serenity you deserve. Until it’s our turn to meet you again, rest well our little angel.

 

-- Dan Watt, 2006

 

Stinger
(5/29/92-7/13/06)

I met Stinger in 2001 when I was inspired to add a senior girl to my existing pack of 2 boys and 1 girl-all 7 year olds. When I inquired about the senior females at the kennel, Linda told me that I should call the foster mom of a 9 year old that had just been returned. I called Frankie on July 27th and after a brief chat she offered to bring Stinger to my home to meet us. She did this the very same night.

I remember our meeting as though it just happened yesterday. Stinger walked across the yard toward me and when she got within reach she rolled herself onto her side in a submissive way and pawed at me to pet her. There was an immediate connection between us that only grew stronger with time. After a few pets and a few words I brought Rush, Walt and Kimmy out to meet Stinger. There were the usual doggy greetings all around and everyone seemed very comfortable so we moved the group into the house. Stinger investigated most of the house and then made herself comfortable lying down next to me on the floor because she was home.

Over the next nearly 5 years Stinger was with us, I would come home from work to find her looking out the front window waiting for me. When I opened the door she was there with a happily wagging tail. She loved to be hugged, stroked and touched and could be vocal about making her wishes known. When I hugged her and called her my happy girl her tail would start to swing back and forth for several minutes.

Somewhere along the line this remarkable little girl stopped rolling on her side and being submissive, although she never aspired to being more that a member of the pack and my “happy tail girl”. She started to romp around the yard shortly after she came to us, something she probably didn’t have much of a chance to do before as she previously lived in an apartment. As she romped like a young puppy she always seemed to have the biggest grin on her face and her eyes would dance with delight. She continued to enjoy her romps even as age took its toll on her legs and they began to weaken. Her spunk, zest for life and sheer determination to enjoy every possible moment was awesome to behold. I started calling her my little “energizer bunny”.

I know that just about every pet owner in the world thinks their pet is remarkable and amazing. I feel the same way about mine, but Stinger was truly different from any other dog I’ve ever had in my life so far in so many ways. In the fall of 2005 Stinger began to be very vocal, howling for long periods of time. While she was howling she would look at me as if she were trying to get my attention-which she did. I assumed she was hungry or wanting attention so I gave her both. This seemed to satisfy her and she would quiet down so I would pet her, hug her and feed her treats whenever she howled. Her howling subsided for a while during the winter but increased again in the spring. I finally understood the howling when I discovered a tumor on her sister Kimmy in April. When I brought Kimmy home after surgery Stinger’s howling stopped for about 2 weeks and then began again. During Kimmy’s last month with us Stinger was her constant companion; she would lie near Kimmy and go outside every time Kimmy went out to follow her around the yard. The last time Stinger howled was the day we lost Kimmy to cancer. Stinger had been trying to tell me about Kimmy’s health problem for all those months.

When Kimmy went to the bridge in May, I asked Stinger to please hang on if she could as she was approaching her 14th birthday and she was having more and more difficulty with her back legs. I asked her to give us a couple of months because the pack and I needed her spunk and zest for life to get through our loss. Stinger was able to give us 7 weeks and 3 days before she let me know that she was simply too exhausted to go on. Stinger had a young, vibrant soul in a body that was simply worn out. She had honored my request as best she could and helped all of us to start healing only to begin mourning anew. She joined her sister at the bridge exactly 2 weeks short of our 5 year anniversary together.

Our time together was shorter than either of us would have wished and passed far too quickly Stinger. I have learned so much from you and with your help I have grown in so many new ways. You are now free of the constraints of age my happy tail girl. Romp, play and eat to your heart’s content our sweet girl until we all meet again at the bridge. You are very much missed but never forgotten.

With our love always,
Kathy, Rush, Walter, and Wrigley

 

 

Kimmy
(2/15/94-5/22/06)

I met Kimmy at the meet and greet I had started helping at 5 months after my second greyhound, Walter, had joined Rush and me. At our first meeting she was a bit shy but warmed up and was affectionate-giving me a head hug and a kiss when I bent down to talk to her. She ventured out to meet people who approached her but she did so slowly. The thing I found most interesting was the way Walter, my really shy boy, acted around her-sticking close, laying down next to her, watching her closely. I thought this behavior was interesting but we came home and I didn’t give Kimmy or Walt’s behavior much further thought.

The following month we again went to the meet and greet and Kimmy was again there. Walt seemed to “light-up” at seeing her. He stayed close to her and on one occasion when a boisterous child made a rapid move toward Kimmy, Walt stepped forward and placed himself between Kimmy and the child and simply stood there. I liked Kimmy, she was sweet and unique looking with a black ticked body, black ears, and what could only be described as a black exclamation point at the base of her tail, Walt seemed to be drawn to this little girl and Rush didn’t seem to mind her at all. Kimmy came home with us that same day.

Upon arriving at the house Kimmy made herself at home immediately. She drank some water, found a dog bed and went to sleep. Later that evening as we took our first walk as a pack of 3, Kimmy took the front most position and led the boys-a position she maintained on every walk over the years including our last a few days before she left us.

Kimmy was the most vocal of my pack as well as the most stubborn, she was a girl! She would bark at me and slam her front paws down on the floor if she felt I was ignoring her, she play barked and yelped as she rolled around on her bed or mine when she was being silly, and she would yowl as she dragged her bottom along the floor if I didn’t jump up to let her out as quickly as she thought I should. She eventually trained me well but she continued to drag herself on the floor for dramatic effect.

These things and so many more-chasing butterflies in the yard, hiding from storms, cuddling in my arms, wrapping her head and neck around my head in bed at night, and playing lawn statue-will live on in memory until we meet again at the bridge and I can once again enjoy her antics.

The 8 years that Kimmy was with us passed all too quickly, it seems like only yesterday she became our Kimmy Girl or Pie Girl. The pack is much diminished by your passing, you are very much missed but never forgotten. Enjoy the grass and the butterflies Kimmy until we meet again.

With our love always,
Kathy, Rush, Walter, Stinger, and Wrigley

 

Easton
(3/5/93 - 4/24/06)


No one wanted her. She had been in a foster home for months. She was sweet, cat safe, and good on a leash but very shy, and I didn’t want her either. I wanted a big, well-adjusted brindle male but went to see her anyway with the idea that the more greyhounds I met, the better I'd be able to tell who was meant for me. She was beautiful but took twenty-five minutes to come out of her crate to see me. As I sat patiently on the floor, she sniffed me from behind and wouldn’t make eye contact, let alone let me touch her. Then her foster mom Ann got her leash. We had a nice walk, and when we returned to the house I had the good fortune to—or she made the fateful mistake of letting me—look into her amber eyes. The gentleness was unmistakable, as was the twinkle, which is what really hooked me. It told me that inside that quivering mass of greyhound goo lurked a sweet, intelligent, majestic creature with a goofy streak, just waiting to realize her potential as a dog and as a companion.

It is impossible to know whether Easton realized that she chose me. I don’t think either of us knew what we were getting into. She left a quiet subdivision to come to Bucktown and downtown Chicago, with expressways, church bells, and dump trucks all around to terrorize her. But, after more than eight wonderful years, no one would recognize the timid creature that first entered my home, that constantly retreated to her crate for security rather than be petted, that paced incessantly for months with a dripping nose.

It is also hard to know what helped her turn the corner. Maybe it was obedience, flyball, and agility classes; maybe it was the Halloweens with my friends' children when she was a pumpkin, hula girl, or fairy princess; maybe it was the meet and greets where she coyly encountered visitors; maybe it was Slim and then Turtledove; or maybe it was just the love with which I showered her, convinced she could and would reciprocate. Some days she was still a shy dog, but with my encouragement, she confronted her fears and far exceeded any expectations. In turn, she has brought me knowledge, friendship, a commitment to greyhound rescue, and more. She has even been my muse. Easton was my heart dog. She will continue to be forever.

In loving remembrance from Barbara, Slim and Turtledove too.

Delta: our little angel who found us.

She decided her fate the day she left the track. She never even made GO's adoption page. Huns picked her up that morning October 26th and had brought her in with a bunch of new hounds that were going up for adoption. Jeff and I went to do a kennel day. I remember walking the hounds, getting the stats on the new hounds and they helping Kathy get the pictures. I thought I was finished when I was told that the last hound still needed a walk.Delta was her name.

I took her out and she was just a little sweetie, we walked around until Kathy said we needed to take her picture. Delta was not going to have that, she stood up and looked at me and I knew she was mine. This happened every time Kathy tried to take a picture. I gave up knowing that I wanted her and she wanted me to be her mommy. Now to tell Jeff; we hadn't been even looking at that point for our 2nd, so we left it to fate. Kathy asked Jeff to take her for a walk and to see what he thought of her. When Jeff went on that walk, Delta "told him" she wanted him to be her daddy as well, standing up and looking at him the same as she did with me. We were both in love with her and told Kathy we wanted her. Once that was done she let Kathy take her picture for us. The only problem we could have now is that our boy Yankee would not want a little sister and before we could go ahead we had to find out. We brought Yankee

back up with us and they played. They just loved each other.

Delta and her big brother, Yankee.

We brought Delta home on December 14th, 2002.

She has been our little girly girl, our princess, our "piglet" and our "peanut," as we called her for so many reasons. She came with a very healthy appetite, a real chow hound just like Yankee; they both together would walk around the kitchen with their noses up surfing the counters and the floors for what the other didn't quite get. Delta was always tiny for a greyhound girl, never really getting past 50-54 lbs. and very, very feminine. She walked like she was wearing high heals. A very vocal hound (as I said a typical girl), Yankee became more vocal just to be able to keep up with her and remain the Alpha.

I have always said that Yankee is my accident-prone child; as in every family you have one always going to the hospital or doctor for something. The local vet knows Yankee well! Delta never had to go to the vet for anything. She was never sick and she never got hurt. She did have a gurgurlly tummy at times, but nothing ever that needed medical attention.

This past mid December Delta started to have bouts with diarrhea and had what we thought was a strange "spell" one evening. It came and went. The diarrhea came and went though the Christmas holiday. After the New Year it wasn't getting better and she was more than her normal pickiness with when she wanted to eat. We became concerned thinking that she had a flu or virus and took her to the doctor. When we got her to the vet they noticed that her stomach was swollen and decided to do an x-ray and an ultrasound and I could hear and see the panic in their eyes and voices. IBD they said was they possibility; the other Cancer. My world began to shatter. Cancer; we lost a greyhound to Cancer 3 years ago. It couldn't be again!

The doctor came back to tell me that for the most part everything looked fine and that it was water seeping out of her intestines, she was losing protein and this was confirmed by a blood test. Delta was put on medication and we had much hope. She was straining to respond and we honestly thought the worse was behind us. After we had decreased the dosage (as directed) she started to regress. She lost more weight. The doctor at this point was not optimistic about the situation. I wasn't going to let this happen this way. I looked up everything and anything I could on canine IBD and I went in ready to debate the way she was being taken care of and the treatment options. I felt like I was fighting a losing battle with the doctor - who I feel ultimately should have from day one sent us to a specialist as she (and her colleagues) were not qualified to handle this. Over the next couple of days Delta again started to progress, eating and perking up more than she had been, unfortunately the next Monday she relapsed.

Tuesday morning Delta was taken to VCA Aurora to see an internal medicine DVM and I felt she was in the best hands possible as they had an agenda for her care and treatment. She was hospitalized immediately, given a protein transfusion and under went a biopsy (that I was told by her primary vet that she would not live through) to determine that it indeed was IBD and not Cancer. All preliminary tests by the doctor all indicated that it wasn't Cancer. We kept our fingers crossed that the biopsy would verify that. Over the next few days, week but, our fighting Delta went through a regimen of 10 pills twice a day. Her eating seemed to get better, but I couldn't imagine how she was going to regain her weight. She was like a fragile china doll that you would be afraid would break if you picked up wrong.

This went on for a week. For a week we held our breath for the new from the doctor. Tuesday 1-31 we got the call from the doctor; it was not cancer, thank God! We were very happy; the doctor had the treatment outlined and we had set up our first appointment for Thursday night. All was going to be ok.

Wednesday night February 1st, 2006, Delta lost her brave fight. She took a turn for the worse and we took her back to the hospital, hoping to have her put back on an IV and kept for observation.

She was passing away as we were getting her through the entrance of the hospital; she tried to hold on for about 10 minutes. The doctor in the ER said that this was only going to be temporary if they were able to stabilize her. I couldn't even think about having to have them administer a shot to end it as I thought that that is what they were going to ask us for.

The doctor came back and said they were losing her and that nothing was helping. As hard as it was and as much as it hurt(s) we knew that we had to let her go. She was so sick and it was going to be on her terms, not ours. There was a small amount of comfort in knowing that. Then she was gone. We needed to see her. We needed kiss her and love her a little while longer. The hospital was really good about that. They cleaned her up and placed her head on a pillow with a blanket so we could view her.

She was so peaceful. We knew that she was better now; no more pain, no more medicine; all the food she wanted to eat. All her favorites; pizza crust, bananas, tater tots, cereal milk and peanut butter on toast. A couch of her own to sit on and watch television; nap when she wanted and lots of friends there to play with her. She could see our first greyhound Debbil and be with him. We made sure that her blanket went with her so she could stay warm.

I think about all of the things she did and all the ways she made Jeff and I laugh. All the ways she loved us and Yankee. She really did love us as much as we loved her; that was clear. That is one of the many, many reasons we miss her so much.

We miss her horribly. She gave us so much happiness and so much love in the 3 years we had her. Our baby girl.

-- Michelle Bardachowski, 2006

 

 

Beautiful Leana
(4/4/2000 - 11/3/2005)

How do you describe the perfect dog?

Words cannot truly be written to give this one justice.

Time just flew by with Leana. It only seemed like yesterday that I was lucky enough to get her. Hold your loved ones tight, both human and non-human, because you never know how much time you have with them. I thought that because Leana was only five years old that I had all the time in the world. I thought the camera could wait - there would be another day. Take it from me - don't wait. There may not be another day, and you will always regret having not taken that picture. I wish I had taken more pictures of Leana.

Some of you may not know how I lost my three dogs just two years ago - Gigi, Molly and Mike. They all died within six months of each other. After the heartache that caused, I didn't want another dog. We continued to foster, though - one energetic boy, and then Releana, also known as Leana. Her previous owners said she had behavior problems. The only behavior problem she had was she didn't like being in a cage, and who can blame her? Nobody wants to be locked up in a cage.

We adopted Leana officially when she was four years old. Something in her simply captured my heart. She was so playful, yet well-mannered, not to mention happy and dependable. My three year old son, Kevin, would lay on her bed and put covers on her- and she would lie there patiently, waiting for him to lift the blanket off. I asked him, "Why do you do that?"

"She's cold," he would reply, "I don't want her to get cold."

Leana was the perfect dog, and I will miss her greatly. Its hard to believe how much she meant to us - we only had her for such a short time, but she was my baby.

Tamie Connors, 2005

 

Missing Marcey

There was one big hurdle to overcome in getting a Greyhound –- my husband John really did not want to get another dog. It wasn't that he disliked them, we previously had two mixed breed terriers, but he felt that they restricted our lifestyle. Then, last Christmas, one of his gifts to me was a Greyhounds Only application. This was his way of letting me know that he was willing to go along with me, although I knew he had reservations.

I was very specific on the application - I DID NOT want a black dog! In my mind, the reasons were very good. I could just picture the black hair on my beige carpeting and white ceramic floors. Also, I had always felt that black dogs looked vicious.

On kennel day, five Greys had been selected for us to meet. Wouldn't you know, the very first one was a black female! She was very petite and very sweet, not mean-looking at all. She whined after being put back in her crate and continued to cry every time we came in to get another dog. Once we looked at all of them, I thought I wanted the red female, just because she wasn't black. But Kathy, the Kennel Coordinator, pointed out that the black female really seemed to want to play with us and that's how she picked us as her family. Marcey came to live with us on April 30, 2005. I could not stop grinning when Lorrie, her foster mom, got her out of the car.

It didn't take very long for Marcey to show us her personality. At first, she was rather subdued and demure. But then we got to see what she was really made of. She absolutely disliked her crate and strove to make sure we knew it. Each of the first three days presented us with new insights into her ingenuity. In these few days, she had managed to shred a blanket into a million postage stamp size or smaller pieces, remove and chew up her muzzle, move the crate (breaking a window in the process) and lastly, unlatching the crate door from the inside and greeting me in the kitchen when I came home! At that point, we strongly considered changing her name to Houdini.

That was the tougher side of our girl though. Marcey was also a lady of refined tastes. When she decided it was time to make our belongings hers, she collected only the best - John's cashmere sweater, a silk pillow or any of my shoes. She never chewed anything; she was just very discriminating in what she selected for herself.

Marcey's most favorite things to do were to go for a walk or for a ride in the car. You knew this because any time you picked up the leash or keys, she would smile VERY enthusiastically. Marcey had the most beautiful smile. Her smile always made us smile. We'd like to think that we made her happy too because she would also smile when we came into the house after work.

Marcey also liked to play. Squeaky, fuzzy toys were here favorites. She would either grab one and run around the yard or toss it with her mouth and chase it. She was just starting to get comfortable with inviting us into her playtime.

On July 8, 2005 - only ten weeks after she came to live with us, Marcey crossed the rainbow bridge. She did not present any symptoms until the previous morning when she wouldn't eat and was very lethargic. We took her to the vet that night. They were unable to identify a specific cause but they were looking into pneumonia, another internal infection, sepsis and even a diaphragmatic hernia. We'll never know the cause but at this point it doesn't really matter; we just miss her terribly. Oh, and by the way, there was never any black hair on the floors.

We know that we will one day get another Greyhound. We also know that there will ever be only one Marcey.

-- Debra Malley, 2005

 

Harry Butt
(5/22/99 - 3/19/05)
Our first picture of Harry while he was still at the kennel.
Harry working hard at his second career - Retirement.


On our kennel day, we walked into the back room at the boarding kennel when my wife, Lee, and our nephew, Stephen, were immediately drawn to the second floor-level crate on the right. On the other side of the mesh was this quiet, slightly shy, dark red brindle boy, with his head down, sheepishly pawing at the crate door. “"That's it, we're done," Lee exclaimed. We were in that room less than 30 seconds and they had already picked their dog. I was annoyed because I took this process seriously, and they obviously weren't. We took Harry for a walk and we played with him in the yard, and then we put him back. We repeated this process for what must have seemed like an eternity to the poor volunteers at the kennel. Each time, Lee and Stephen would patiently indulge me, but I could tell they weren't going to change their minds. So, Harry it was. At the time, he was a compromise for me. I liked Harry, but I also liked Tonto. Tonto was white with fawn spots, and Harry was just an ordinary brindle. Out of all the dogs we have since fostered, only three of them have been non-brindles. Brindles are pretty ordinary. Well, I'm here to tell you: Don't ever trust your eyes to see what is beautiful. Tonto was a sweet boy and I'm sure he became a good pet, but Harry became more beautiful with each passing day. To me, Harry was the most beautiful boy in the whole world.

Harry turned out to be an exceptionally smart boy, and he quickly mastered everything. Harry turned out to be an exceptionally good boy, as well. He never once had an accident in the house; he never once got into anything. There were quite a few times when I fell asleep on the sofa before I took him for his evening walk. Early on, he would wake me up by sticking his cold wet nose in my face, but over time he just patiently waited for me to wake up. I think he would have rather exploded than risk disappointing me. That's just the way he was. He was afraid of the stairs, but he would bravely scale them if you asked him to; he was terrified of the vacuum, but he would lie still while you cleaned around him. He learned to completely trust us and depend on us. Harry's mission in life was to please, and please he did. Harry's life was not about quantity, it was about quality, and he was able to pour a lifetime of love into our three short years together. I was intensely proud of my boy, and I was eager to show him off to the whole world. Just last week, I had to restrain myself from bringing him to the foster seminar because I wanted everyone to see that I had the best and most beautiful boy of all. Even in death, I write this for all to know how proud I am of my boy.

He seemed to be doing great, all the way to the very end. He had an undetected tumor on his heart that suddenly gave way. It's so ironic that his big heart, which was bigger than he was, was to be his downfall, because he would have never let it fail us. The biggest problem with dogs is they don't live very long, and I often thought about the dreaded day when I would have to say goodbye to my best friend. I never thought it would be so soon. I always thought I would have time to prepare for it. I never dreamt it would come so soon and without warning.

It's the little things that make our friends unique, so it's the little things we'll remember and miss the most. Harry's trademark had to be his crooked ears!—I've never seen another pair like them. One going this way, and one going that way; one would point forward while the other pointed back. It all depended on what kind of mood he was in. They looked more like horns than ears, and people were constantly asking why they were broken. I also loved his patience and persistence. Harry got bored if you took him on the same potty route too many times and he had a way of letting you know about it. Whenever we came to a fork in the road, he would take a few steps in the direction he wanted to go, and then he would stop and look back at me and wait for my response: If I said “"no-no," he would turn and walk begrudgingly the other way; if I said “"okay," he would happily proceed down his chosen route. There were some places he always wanted to explore but I would never let him. But that never discouraged him from “"asking" each and every time. I was usually in a hurry; he always tried to make our walks last as long as possible. My only wish now is that I would have let him lead the way more often.

I'll forever miss his little celebration dances after stopping to leave his mark on every tree in the neighborhood. I'll forever miss waking up every morning with my faithful friend lying at my feet. He may have started out the evening several feet from me, but whenever I woke up, his head would always be resting on my feet. I'll forever miss his greeting me at the door when I came home, then running to get, and awkwardly playing with his favorite squeaky toy. He never did quite figure out how to play with toys. I'll forever miss looking at his freaky, scampering rat-like shadow being cast by the neighborhood street lights as we went for our late evening walks. He sure had a funny shadow. He was part greyhound and part chowhound, but it was his special love of pizza crust that made me suspect he was even part Italian greyhound. He never met a people food he didn't like, and I'm not kidding you! He perfected the art of what he thought was subtle begging; in this regard, he had no shame.

Your mission in life was to please. Mission accomplished, magnificent friend. They say only the good die young, and you were both too good and too young: 5 years, 9 months, and 26 days. You lived in our home for only 3 years and 3 days, but you will live in our hearts, forever. It was you who always looked to us for guidance, for how to live your life. But it is we who learned from you about how to love and trust unconditionally, and how we can live our lives just a little bit better. There will never be another like you, and nothing can ever fill the void that your loss has left in our hearts. We will always be grateful to you for the love and happiness you brought into our lives. You are and will always be our 1098 days of pure joy.

-- Tim Kenny, 2005

 

Our Greyhound, Linda

At the time I first met Linda, we had already adopted 2 greyhounds who happen to be brothers from a track adoption program. About 4 months after we adopted "The Bo Brothers", I had the opportunity to get involved with the track adoption program as a volunteer thanks to the adoption coordinator, who also became a good friend. I began fostering greyhounds. When an applicant would come to meet the greyhounds, I would bring my foster to meet the applicant.

I was thoroughly enjoying my new volunteer work and could think of nothing that I would rather be doing.  When I met Linda, I did not have a foster at the time and was ready for a new one. I was not sure who to pick until the adoption coordinator introduced me to Linda. Linda was a 5 year old black female who had just retired. She had a long racing career and now found herself in the track adoption program. I had never met a dog with the same name as me and I thought why not! So, I brought Linda home.

All went well with Linda as my foster. She was scared to death of our 4 cats! She could not and would not dare to make eye contact with them. It was so funny! Here is a dog that is 7 times bigger than a cat and she is afraid of them! She seemed to enjoy the Bo Brothers and would play with them daily. I believe Linda was in my home about 2 weeks when I got a call from the adoption coordinator at the track. She asked if I would bring Linda to meet a young couple. I was on my way.

When I arrived the couple was already there. They had two young children and were very nice people. They were looking for a dog for her mother who wrote children's stories. The adoption coordinator was a little leery of doing a third party adoption, but it sounded like a great home for a greyhound. They met and spent some time with a few adoptable greyhounds including Linda. Well, you can guess who their choice was; of course it was Linda. It hurt to watch Linda go. She had been in my home for 2 weeks and I was getting to know her. This was best though. I was a foster parent. About 3 days later, the adoption coordinator got a phone call from a greyhound adoption group in the Chicago area who told her that the home that Linda was living in was a very filthy dirty place filled with birds. She called me and asked if I would like to go with her and do a home visit. We soon left and was on our way to Linda's new home.

It was a warm summer day and the door of the house was open leaving a screen door to see into the house. We knocked on the door and here comes Linda! She wagged her tail and was glad to see us. We knocked again and called out to anyone who might be home, but there was no answer. We looked through the screen door into the older home and to our astonishment saw numerous bird cages with birds in them and more filth then I think either one of us had ever seen.

The bird cages were all on stands with mounds of bird droppings and old bird food underneath the cages. There were cob webs everywhere, It was hard to miss the smell coming out of the house. There was a window to the left side of us as we stood on the front porch. On the ledge of the window we could see a mouse. This did not look like a very healthy situation for human or dog. We knocked a couple more times and still no answer. We walked around the house to see if anyone was outside with no results.

We walked to a neighbor's house to see if they might know where the woman who we were looking for might be. They did not know. We decided to go to a phone booth to call animal control. After numerous phone calls the adoption coordinator got in touch with the animal warden and would meet us in a little bit. The adoption coordinator was worried what her boss would think about this whole situation. She could not get in touch with any of the management from the track that day. Most everyone had the day off. She made up her mind to do her best to try and get Linda back. The animal warden met us and listened to our story. She knew exactly who we were talking about. She followed us back to the bird woman's house. When we got there the woman had arrived home. The animal warden asked the woman to bring Linda outside. Once Linda was outside, the adoption coordinator told this woman that she was representing the track and was taking Linda back due to the filthy conditions of her home. Of course this woman disagreed with us and there was a bit of tug of war over Linda, but with the animal warden's help we left with Linda.

I took Linda home with me.The next day, everything hit the fan. The young couple that I had met that adopted Linda had called the general manager of the track wanting Linda back. The adoption coordinator was called on the carpet and was totally humiliated by the general manager with her boss sitting right there and not saying one word to support her.  She was suspended from her job at this time. I saw her shortly after that.

She was in tears saying that no one had ever talked to her like that in her life. She also asked me to bring Linda back to the adoption center as soon as possible, which I did. About two days later I received a call from the adoption coordinator's boss. I was very angry about the treatment that my friend had received and told him so in a very blunt and loud way. He wanted to know my side of the story , which I did tell him and also that she was very right in what she did. That home was no place for a dog. The animal warden that supported the adoption coordinator in her decision to take Linda called the general manager to let him know that she did the right thing by taking Linda from the home. My friend and I became concerned that the management at the track might give Linda back to the woman with all the birds. I discussed our fears were with my husband and we decided to adopt Linda. I immediately went to the track adoption center and adopted Linda. About 1 week after Linda was taken from the woman's home, my friend was fired. She was devastated.

Linda had become a member of our family in an unusual way, but we were glad to have her. As we got to know Linda we found that she was a bit on the aloof side, wanting attention on her terms. When we first got her, she would not let us give her any kisses or hugs, but with time she began to trust us. She loved the Bo brothers; they were her boys. She gave them love bites by chewing on the back of their ears. She became the boss AKA the alpha bitch, but in reality she was one big baby. Of our 3 greyhounds, Linda had the most spirit. She loved to get rowdy in the back yard with the boys and they always showed her respect.

If you didn't know Linda, and watched her play in the back yard, you would think she was going to tear the other dogs to shreds with all the growls and snarls that came out of her. That was Linda just acting tough. Linda had to run. It was in her soul. Every few days, she just had to go outside and run and run by herself. It was if it was something she had to do. I always stopped what I was doing to watch. I never got tired of watching Linda run.

Linda rarely gave kisses, but when she gave you one, it was like a present. She became our alarm clock, waking us every morning between 6-7 am. She never liked it if I tried to sleep in, even if hubby got up first and let her out to go potty. She insisted that I get up by barking and whining in my face until I did get up. There was nothing like a good long walk to her. She would get so excited and let the world know that she was going for a walk by barking very loudly and continuously until the leash was hooked on to her collar. Whenever I would bring a new foster to the house, she would get an attitude. She would have nothing to do with me and would let the foster know right away who the boss was. After about 2 days, all would be forgiven and she would be playing with the new foster dog and being her usual self. She was quite a gal.

After doing volunteer work at the track adoption center, I had gotten a taste of what it was like to work with greyhounds. I didn't want to stop. I contacted an adoption group in the Chicago area and applied to become a foster parent. The folks from this agency had heard of Linda's plight and were interested in meeting me. We met at a greyhound reunion in Wisconsin and afterwards they came to my home and we spent some time talking. The lady who is the head of the adoption group suggested that my friend and I start our own adoption group. This was kind of a scary thing to me. I did not know where to start. I began doing research and making phone call. On October l5th 1995, which was about 4 months after Linda came into our lives, Greyhounds Only, Inc. Adoption & Rescue became official. To this date, Greyhounds Only has found homes for over 200 greyhounds. We have grown and have many wonderful people to thank for all the hard work that has been accomplished. 1 have met so many great people and I sure have made a lot of greyhound friends.

Linda began to slow down last fall. She began coughing and tiring very easily on walks. We soon found out that she was in the beginning stages of congestive heart failure. It was also discovered that part of her larynx was not moving. She was scheduled to have surgery on her larynx, but because she was having other complications, it was canceled. A few weeks before Christmas Linda began limping. This went on for about 2 weeks. I made an appointment to take her to the vet. The day before I was to take her I had come home from Christmas shopping to find Linda screaming in pain. She could barely walk. I rushed her to the vet.  

An x-ray was taken of her right rear leg. She had bone cancer. It was decided to put her on pain killers to make her more comfortable. Her heart could not handle chemo or surgery. The pain meds were helping. She still had her spirit. She still chewed on the boy's ears and let the foster dogs know who was boss. Slowly, her spirit wasn't quite what it was and she spent a lot of time alone.

She was throwing up a lot at meal time, and could not keep much food inside her. It just got worse and worse. We knew it was time. Linda was put to sleep on January 24, 2000. I will miss her so very much. Meeting her changed my life and opened up a world that will be a big part of the rest of my life.

Thank you Linda. I love you.

Linda LaFoone, 2000

 

Middy's Story

There he stood looking over the coffee table at me. His tail was up in the air, his ears were perked up and he's staring at me. Adopted yesterday Midnight Iowa, Middy. My brain is telling me that I had a nice quiet house and then I went and adopted this Greyhound.

So I pick up the phone, call my sister Leslie who tells me that he'll be fine...he's a good dog.

Our first week was very eventful. Glenn was hospitalized so I left Midnight on the front porch behind a baby gate. That was the plan...go to the hospital during the day and spend the evening with Middy. Then I got home! He's on the other side of the baby gate...limping! I haven't had him 24 hours and he's hurt! What a wonderful dog owner I'm going to be. My Vet assured me that if he's putting any weight on the leg at all, it's not broken, put him back behind the baby gate (lift it up a few more inches, so he can't jump over it), give him an aspirin and call him tomorrow. By the time I get back home from my evening visit to the hospital, he's fine...like nothing ever happened! The custom collar and leash I bought at the McCormick Place Dog Show, destroyed... Middy hid behind the garage and ate the $15.00 collar! Mid proved he was a "water dog" by taking a soak in one of the turtle pools. I hurried up into the house, grabbed my camera, aimed, pointed and snapped thinking that this was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, only to find out that this was a summer pleasure to be enjoyed over and over again throughout his life!He accepted Glenn and Leslie and myself. He was terrified of my brother-in-law, Dennis. Midnight trampled the coffee table trying to get away from him for the first year he was with us. The first six months were spent hiding behind a chair and peeking out at what was going on. The third week we spent together, the Paulsen Party Palace had a Fourth of July celebration. My mom brought one of her pound cakes made from scratch and we put it on the counter...(nope, not yet!)...Celebrated, (nope, not yet!)...said good night. Mom said to leave the cake and bring some on Sunday...sounded like a plan. Put a cake saver over it and went to bed...yep...it was three in the morning when I got up and noticed something on the floor...it was the pound cake...there was a third of it left. How much had been left in the first place? I covered it, but I didn't pay attention. So mom calls the next day and said to bring some...I said, " you took some didn't you?1/ Mom answers, "None!" I think "Uh-oh!" He ate two thirds of a pound cake...by himself, which earned him the nickname "PC".There was the "Linatone Disaster of 1993". He brought the bottle of the coat conditioner to my bed, jumped up on it, laid down and chewed away. It soaked through the linens and the mattress!

That same year was the "Leather Coupler Mistake". He chewed the leather up between the hardware of the leather coupler and left the hardware, you guessed it, on my bed!! Soon, Mid was staying out from behind the chair and even rolled over on his back for me. He was the gentlest dog with other animals and people.He loved marshmallows, burgers, knucklebones and rawhide chews. He'd stand and whine continuously. He had big, brown eyes that I couldn't resist. When Glenn passed away, my dogs were there for me. There was a lot of finding our way back into a routine but we made it. The years of going back and forth to the hospital were to change Mid's life. I never knew what I was going to find when I came home, but I knew there would be a puddle... somewhere. The Halloween season of 1993 was his greytest work yet. He left a puddle... he got into the kibble... and he spread the garbage from the back of the house, through the kitchen, down the hall, into the bedroom and put the coffee grounds on my bed! So, Middy got his own place...a crate! Yes, we fought for a few months... but soon he would go in on his own after breakfast! He didn't mind it after a while. It was nice not coming home to a puddle and I didn't have to ask, "What did you do?" Although the response to this question was amusing...he'd sit! So it got to a point where we could ask him, "Middy, what do bad dogs do?" and he would sit!

Routine was what Middy thrived on. Every day: outside, potty, come in, roll on the floor, have breakfast, crate, wait for mom to get home, leave him out, beg, play, crash and start over again. He also was a "jock". Fleas were not a problem for him...scratch 'em? No way. "A dogs best pals are his fleas...you can rely on them...you can trade 'em with your kennel buds!" He always seemed to be taking those young foster "whippersnappers" and teaching them...'in the kennel, we didn't have snow like this, we had yellow snow... and we liked it!" or "when you walk, you walk like you mean it... really pump those shoulder blades... be a dog!"Midnight really had very little guidance.

He was almost self trained... once he fell into a routine, he had it down. He was a greyt first dog. I dreaded the day where we had to part. That day was March 5th 2000. He had lost 10 pounds and could no longer navigate the stairs. My Vet, Dr. Tony Kremer, told me that Middy had all the symptoms of Lymphatic Cancer. His quality of life was gone and he had stopped eating. It was with a heavy heart that I finished my work day (crying all day!) and headed to pick him up to have him euthanised. After he had slept away, it was with a broken heart that I drove home, with his collar In my purse. I cried the rest of that night and into the next day... I still cry when I think of how much I miss him... but I laugh too, when I think about the pound cake and the Linatone.

He enriched my life and helped me through a very sad period of my life and I will be forever greytfull to Midnight Iowa.

Jody Paulsen, 2000

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