Bay

By Don Klappauf

This is Don and Bay at their second visit before the adoption.

Since you are looking at this Web site I must assume that you are either thinking about adopting a greyhound or already own one and like us want to stay in touch with other greyhound owners. In either case, I would like to tell you a little about our "Bay" because since adopting him, I can not say enough good things about the greyhound breed and the Greyhounds Only Organization and all their volunteers who, like Linda, were so helpful.

When Joy's German Shepherd of twelve years pasted away last summer, we were so saddened by the lose that we felt it would be a good idea to get another dog. Though we knew it would never replace Sable it would replace the void left by Sable's passing. Our vet suggested that we look into rescuing a greyhound since we did not want a puppy. Joy's elderly parents who live below us would be pet sitting while we were at work and we could not have burden them with having to help train a puppy. After looking at 9 greyhounds from another rescue organization who's name we received from out vet's nurse, we discovered Greyhounds Only on the internet and made arrangements to meet with Linda at the kennel in Wisconsin. When we told Linda that we were not sure which Greyhound to choose since we were unfamiliar with the breed, she said not to worry that he or she would pick us. She was so right! After having walked several dogs we were introduced to "Bay" a light fawn male. As with all the others he was tail wagging and friendly. There was something about his demeanor that made me think he was the one but I didn't want to say anything to Joy because I was not sure I'd be able to tell her why I felt that way and I wanted to see what she had to say about Bay. After asking me several times what I though about him and me replying that I liked him Joy sat down on the ground and called Bay to her.When I saw him walk over and stand with his legs between her crossed legs and lean against her the way Sable use too and Joy hugging him with tears walling up in her eyes I knew then that Bay had made his final home stretch by racing his way into our hearts. We really felt good about rescuing Bay, but actually it was a two way street. Right after we had gotten Bay both Joy and I were going through some pretty rough times.

Joy had some scary surgery and I lost my mother on Thanksgiving Day. Every night when we arrived home there was Bay to lift our spirits with tail wagging, teeth grinning running towards us with an excitement that I'm sure all greyhound owner must experience. We are so glad to have him as an addition to our family. He's been easy to train, good with kids, the neighbors dogs and loves to please and be praised. They are actually calm animals who don't need any more exercise than any other breed of dog. We would recommend to anyone who is thinking about getting a dog that they consider rescuing a greyhound. They would be doing the dog a great service and themselves.

(Website Note: The handsome Bay passed away in late 2005. He will be missed by all that knew him.)

Shelly - The Greyhound Pup

By Linda Lafoone

This is Shelly on the first day.

This is Shelly after 2 weeks.

Shelly came into our lives in January 2000. I got a call from a man who does dog rescue in a county west of Chicago. He told me that the previous night a car drove onto his 3 acre property, dumped 3 dogs and drove off. With the help of the local animal control he was able to catch two of the dogs, which happen to be Greyhounds.

The third dog was a Chow who my knowledge has never been caught. He asked if Greyhounds Only would take the two Greyhounds and of course I said yes. The next day this man brought the 2 dogs to our veterinarian in Wisconsin. What a sad sight these two dogs were. Both dogs were skin and bones.

Neither of the dogs have ear tattoos, so finding out who did this was next to impossible. One is a black male who we named "Lucky" and looked okay except for the fact that he was starving. We believe that he is anywhere from one to two years old. The second dog is a female pup around eight to ten months old.

We named her "Shelly". Besides the fact that she was also starving, she was on her death bed at the time we got her. She had hardly any hair on her with her entire body covered in mange. She had oozing sores along with anemia and all four of her legs were swollen to twice the size of normal. She could not stand because of the pain. The staff at the vet hospital told us that both of them were pooping plastic. Lucky was off to a foster home two days after he arrived at the vet hospital, but Shelly's future did not look so bright at first.

The first time I saw her, she was very unresponsive and obviously in pain. Thanks to the vets and staff at Westosha Veterinary Hospital, Shelly was beginning to improve a little more with each day that passed. After being at the vet hospital for one week, it was time for Shelly to go into a foster home for the rest of her recovery. At the time that Shelly came into our home, our greyhound Linda was very sick. Two days after Shelly came to our home, we had to put Linda to sleep.

This is Shelly now.

I truly believe that Shelly was sent to me in my time of need. We needed each other. Shelly is my little angel. It has been more than two months since Shelly arrived into our lives. She is now a part of our family. We affectionately call her " Jelly Bean". She is all puppy! She now has a full coat of hair and has been given a clean bill of health. She will remain on medication for one more month to ensure that the mange does not reoccur.

She can be sweet as can be and then she can be quite the stinker some times. I have been so very used to fostering adult greyhounds having very mellow ways about them, but a Greyhound puppy is a different thing all together! I always said that I would never bring a Greyhound puppy into our house knowing how wild they can be. 

Well, I've finally learned to never say never.

A New Dog's Teaching the Old Dog

By Yvonne Zipter
(www.yvonnezipter.com)

This is the beautiful Nacho - adopted by Kathy Forde and Yvonne Zipter.

This story was originally written for Outlines magazine and ran in the Philadelphia Gay News.

I think I have found the cure for shyness: get a greyhound.

Perhaps any unusual dog will do, but greyhounds will work for sure. Put a greyhound on a leash and walk it in an area where people are out and about, and I can almost guarantee you that you will have more conversations with total strangers than you ever thought possible. Especially if you're prone to bashfulness, as I've always been. Talking to strangers was certainly never something I sought out, and if some nice friendly person ever happened to talk to me as we passed on the sidewalk, my responses were always cautious and perfunctory.

But ever since Nacho, a retired racing greyhound, came into our lives a couple of weeks ago, it has not been uncommon for me to have protracted conversations with people I've never, ever seen before and will probably never, ever see again.

Sitting at an outdoor eating area with him the other day, for instance, a mother and her young daughter came to talk to me, and to pet Nacho, for a good five or ten minutes. People always have lots of questions: Was he a racing dog? How did he get all those scars? How did we get him? Do greyhounds make good pets? and I find I am more than happy to answer all of their questions. Our experience with Nacho, and with his brother Fox, who lives with my gal's sister Carrie, has been so wonderful that I've become a sort of unofficial spokesperson for these dogs, which do indeed make wonderfully loving pets. The people who ask the questions are the easy ones to deal with. More awkward are the situations where people simply stare and smile at him or who comment to their friends or children about how beautiful he is. Do I pretend not to notice? Or do I acknowledge them in some way?

Sometimes I will simply smile at them, and sometimes I'll actually say hello, but even when I pretend not to notice that many admiring glances are being focused on us, inside I am swelling with pride. Which is a curious response, since we had nothing to do with his regal bearing or handsome face. At best, I guess you could say we just had the good sense to choose him, though in our case, even that was pretty much accidental: we picked him months before ever so much as seeing a picture of him, simply on the basis of his being related to my sister-in-law's dog.

Nacho and Fox having a sleep over. Nacho is in back, and his brother Fox is in front.

In other words, it's pure luck that we got this distinctive-looking beast, who is black with white feet, a white tip on his tail, a white belly, and a sprinkling of white across his nose, like the Milky Way. Most embarrassing of all is when people praise us for having rescued him.

We certainly, of course, did not want anything bad to happen to him once he'd outlived his usefulness on the track, but our main motivation was simply to get a dog in our lives.

A greyhound seemed like the perfect choice, since my gal isn't allergic to them. Greyhounds are about as cuddly and loving as a dog can be (I've never met dogs who loved to be hugged this much!). They arrive already housebroken, and they tend toward the sedentary, having run about as much as they care to earlier in their lives. When people say, "Bless you for doing this," I only hope I don't blush too much as I say, "Thank you"; I don't want to over whelm well-meaning strangers with a confession of my less than altruistic intentions.

One of the neat things about all of this is that no one cares that you're a lesbian. It's clear that Nacho belongs to both Kathy and I, and given that we talk about Nacho's brother belonging to Kathy's sister, it's pretty clear, too, that we're not related. To date, no one has noticeably blanched. It doesn't matter one bit who Kathy and I are to one another: they just want to know about the dog.

Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

Duke's Story
Dedicated to Rosemary Krimbel

Best Friends; Duke, Easton & Slim

Rosemary with Duke (white), Easton (black) and Slim (blue).

I'll never forget the day I first laid eyes on Easton.  I was in the ready room on race day having just had my urine test. As I stood waiting for my handler to put on my racing jersey, this gorgeous black bitch pranced into the room. My muzzle dropped.

She was the most elegant hound I had ever seen. From her wasp waist to her shy eyes, Easton was a dazzling hound. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, I fell hard for her. When the race began,  I looked for Easton. As soon as I found her, I ran to catch her. Now, I was a good top finisher in 144 out of 177 races, but Easton out distanced me that day. Of course, she had an unfair advantage, I was distracted by her beauty. I wanted to look at her hindquarters more than I wanted to win the race.  She had the most dazzling rump. Sadly, that was the only time I saw Easton. I looked for her whenever I was at the track, but alas, I never saw her.

I also never forgot her. My racing career ended when I broke my leg. I had the race won, and then I hit the rail on the final turn. The pain was excruciating.

I was plenty worried. I had heard some appalling stories at the kennel about what happens to a hound when his racing days end. But, I got lucky. I got kicked around a bit. I had a short affair with another racer, nothing meaningful, but she did have pups. The last I heard, the pups went into racing, but none of them had great careers.

I lived for a year or so with some people in Northern Illinois, but that didn't work out. Then, I spent a few months with a nice woman named Jodi. Nothing seemed to be working out, and I was worried. I wanted a real home, a place like the kennel where I got lots of attention and was treated special. My glory days were over, and now I was just another used up old racer that nobody wanted, one step away from the guillotine. My spirits were flagging. Then, one day Jodi took me for a car ride to the kennel in Wisconsin.

Here they are again!

She introduced me to three people: Rosemary, John, and Ben.  These three people must have understood my dilemma because they immediately starting acting like I was something special.  I hadn't been so fawned over since Linda took care of me at the race track. You should have heard Rosemary going on and on about how striking I was.

She even said that my name was perfect because I looked like royalty. John and Ben weren't quite as enamored. They kept saying something about a black rug in the family room, but that didn't seem to mean anything to Rosemary. She was smitten, and I have to say, that after being neglected for more than a year, I was more than happy to have a little admiration (Okay a lot of admiration, but I had been very spoiled at one time in my life). Next thing I know, I'm in the car with Rosemary, John, and Ben, they had adopted me. 

When I walked into their house, I saw was this massive staircase, steep, wooden, and curved. No way I was going up those steps! Clearly, Jodi had made a mistake. I was a racer, not a climber. That night, Rosemary and John wrapped a towel around me and practically carried me up those darn stairs. I stayed on the second floor. It looked impossible, going down was out of the question.

Rosemary, Ben, John and Duke

While I was lamenting my situation, the telephone rang and some woman named Barbara called. She had a hound, too. Whatever Barbara said to Rosemary seemed to help. All of us calmed down a bit that first night. Later that evening, I thought I overheard Rosemary tell John that Barbara's dog was named  Easton, but I was probably just thinking wishfully.

I still had some great dreams about Easton. She was unforgettable. To make a long story short, I conquered those steps  in a few days and after awhile I was galloping up and down them. Rosemary, John, and Ben turned out to be all right, especially Rosemary. Anytime I wanted to be petted, and I mean ANYTIME , she would pet me. 

I could nudge her in the bathroom, at the kitchen table, in bed, she didn't care. She just rolled over and petted me. She was pretty good about taking me for long walks, to the beach, to the park, and for long car rides too. Then, the most unbelievable event happened. Just when I thought I couldn't be happier, Rosemary took me to a dog park to run off the leash. Guess who I see there? Easton! Unbelievable. Turns out, I hadn't dreamed it, Easton was Barbara's dog. When summer came, Rosemary and Barbara and Easton and I went often to beach. We would take long walks, and spend hours together, me with my head nuzzled in the nape of Easton's exquisite neck. I was in seventh heaven. Then disaster struck. 

I overheard Barbara talking about getting another dog. My ears perked up at the mention of another dog. In my mind, Easton was my hound, and now that I had found her, I wasn't planning to lose her again. My fears were eased, however, when I learned that Barbara wanted a female hound. That worked for me. I only hoped that the new bitch would be as gorgeous and accommodating as Easton. After all, a spare ottoman is not such a bad thing.

Quite a bit of time passed, and then one day, the four of us took a ride up to the greyhound kennel to look at a red female. On that fateful day, a new dog had just retired from the track and happened to be at the boarding kennel! Slim Image, a blue male. If I do say so myself, Slim was quite a looker. Smaller than me, but with the most unusual color and perfectly symmetrical, cappuccino markings on his paws, neck, and the tip of his tail. 

Barbara with Easton (black), Slim (blue) and Duke (white).

I knew if I were impressed, Easton probably would be too. My heart sank. Easton liked Slim, they were quite a pair. Easton and Slim chased each other and ran together in the field behind the kennel. I watched this spectacle for awhile, trying to appear indifferent. I was concerned that Easton was falling for Slim. I guess I was jealous. So, I and decided I had show Slim (and Easton) who was boss here. Much to my surprise, Slim came over to me and let me place my head on his neck. Slim showed me complete deference! Well, how could I help but like the guy? He was swell.  He made an excellent ottoman. 

A few weeks have passed, and I've seen Slim and Easton a few times. My fears of losing Easton have faded and now I'm happy to have both Slim and Easton as my best friends. 

Thanks Barbara, for doing such a great job. Now, I know why Rosemary likes you so much, you sure can pick 'em!