Eventful day and one I wish never to repeat. Winchester decided to put his paw through the stained glass window just to show the UPS man that he didn’t care for deliveries so close to the front door.
I got lots of blood, a Greyhound with a stitched paw and a package delivered on time and in great condition.
Poor Winchester. He was a trooper at the vet’s office. Now he’s lying on his bed and trying to lick his bandage when I’m not looking.
We were lucky today. This could have been much, much worse.
My friends Carmon and Mike of Black-Horse-Design have lost one of their Greyhounds, Mikie. If you’ve met Carmon and Mike at a show or seen some of their fabulous jewelry, you know how devoted they are to the creatures under their care.
How lucky Mikie was to have such wonderful caretakers.
I drove to Colorado last week to put up more of the Almost Home for Hounds Mural. Going to Almost Home for Hounds is a strange experience. If you are looking for a “Greyhound Fix” you’ll get it there.
But I always leave with a sad and heavy heart. Folks, there are too many Greyhounds in the world. For every hound that waits at AHH, there are others waiting for his or her spot. It is easy to get overwhelmed by this thought. I can’t imagine that there are homes enough for them all.
I live in place that makes “hands on” Greyhound adoption participation nearly impossible. So I donate stuff when I can. Try to participate in fundraisers. But it seems like a drop in the bucket of what needs to be done. There are too many Greyhounds.
Maybe I should adopt another? I used to have four– had four for many years– and Winchester could use a younger playmate. Something holds me back though. AHH had a really nice male named Rooster that I really liked. But I think a female would work out better with the pack here. And I’m always concerned about timing– have some big shows coming up this spring– wouldn’t it be better to wait until after I’m finished with those? Truth is, there is no perfect time. Somehow it works out– it always has in the past.
I guess I’m rambling… should go and make some tiles.
My friends Scott and Kim say that there are no old dogs in their home. Meaning, if you treat a old like he’s old, he will be old.
I took Kelly into the vet’s office for a check up. “Boy that’s an old dog,” she said.
Kelly is getting up there. Crossing my fingers and toes that he’ll be 12 on the 7th of December.
But today he was running like he doesn’t care what the calendar says.
Now seeing a Greyhound run is a special thing– seeing all the muscles and bones and heart coming together to make a creature perform what he was made to do. But the older hounds that is something else entirely. Kelly’s got to work at it, but in a way it is no work. He’s got some limitations– that body just won’t stand up to the abuse it used to– but he still loves to run.
I was privileged to see it today. Kelly was smiling. He’s many things, but he’s not just an “old dog”.
A couple of nights ago, I dreamt about Sterling. I dreamt that I was standing on top of a snow-covered hill howling. Sterling popped his head up with that same expression on his face he’d get when I’d caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. One ear was starched straight up, the other off to the side and he was holding one of his front feet up like he was ready to run.
Then he ran and ran through the snow. And I had a perfect view from my hill top. He was running to me and I was so happy to see him again.
Then he fell through the snow and drowned in what must have been a lake or river or something. I tried to get to him, but the hill was too high and I was too far away. Sterling was gone. I woke up shaken and sad.
I’ve had many pets– many dogs– dogs that were important and I grieved when they died. When Miki (Mikhala), one of the standard poodles, died I was heartbroken. I still miss her. And that isn’t to say that I didn’t grieve Max, Peppi, Josh, Esther and Striker. I miss them and think of them every so often with mostly happy memories. But this Sterling death is really difficult for me.
I try not to think about it too much.
I’m worried when I go to the Greyhounds Reach the Beach event in a couple of weeks that I’ll see a Greyhound that looks like him. I don’t want to cry in front of people. I know that, for me, carrying around the sadness is disrespectful of all the good memories, good things that Sterling gave me or taught him. But I’m just not there yet.
Sterling died today. Just like that.
He slipped. I picked him up, tried to calm him and just as I thought everything would be okay he inhaled deeply and collapsed. And then he was gone.
Brownie, String, Beandog, the Bean, Buddy, Sterling. My first Greyhound. My heart dog. My Velcro dog. My boy.
Changed my life, that dog. My heart is broken.
Apollo’s ninth birthday today. (Apollo is one the Greyhounds that live here with us) Hard to believe he is nine already. Up until a few weeks ago he was the “young one” of the pack. Now he’s keeping up with the new “young one,” Winchester.
No birthday cakes or party hats here. Apollo celebrated the day with an extra walk and a nap on the couch.