So, my week from Crapsville then. I’ve deliberated and cogitated as to whether I should blog about this, the likelihood of a happy, quirky outcome being increasingly unlikely, but because you’re my readers and I lub you, I’ve decided to tell you. But any comments that appear even remotely along the lines of ‘you berk’ or ‘what a pillock you are’ will be severely dealt with. You’ve been warned. So last week I’d offered to help J by taking in a little blue greyhound girl (a girlfriend for Bert, thought I) as she was struggling to take in a new greyhound because of full kennels. Off I went, then, down the unfeasibly wiggly N52 to pick up this pretty, teeny little thing who was wide eyed and terrified. She panted and cried and and pinged about like a little pinball in the back of the car all the way home, but I talked reassuringly to her and by the time we got home she was laying down and seemed a bit calmer. I got her out of the car (Bert with his nose pressed against the window trying to get a better look) and took her down the garden, talking quietly to her as she was a gibbering wreck. At which stage it all went wrong. She. Freaked. She did a half twisting triple looping forward somersault with tuck back, twisting my arm in a rather unpleasant manner and - worse - breaking one of my new gel nails. The Bitch. Then with a final pirouette she slipped neatly out of her collar and before you could say Olympic gymnast was legging it at a rate of knots down the road, leaving me sitting on my bottom in the grass saying exceedingly rude things.
So I won’t bore you with the details but basically this week has been a blur of driving rain, evil, freezing wind and trudging around countless fields after the wee girl. The neighbours (and faraway-bours) have been fantastic, but every time we got near, she scarpered, only to follow us as soon as we turned away from her. No amount of whistling, blowing kisses, tapping on food bowls or anything else made any difference. The only time she came to the door was to eat the food we put out, and then rush off if she so much as smelled us there.
So far I’ve tried the Gardai Dog Unit (’no, we don’t use tranquilliser darts, madam, sorry’), the local Gardai (’a farmer will shoot it before you get it back’), the vet (’well, I’ve got doping gel, but you need to put it on their tongue and it takes 15 minutes to work’), Dublin Zoo (no reply), the dog warden (can’t help and don’t own a trap) and, least helpful of all, Little C from next door who came up with the ‘tie a piece of string around a bone and leave it in the front garden, then pull the string when she picks up the bone’ scenario. Oh, and bear in mind that the likelihood of her being shot by one of the local farmers is, indeed, incredibly high - a lot of the sheep are currently in lamb. That’s if she survives the farm lorries and tractors along our little one-track lane. Ferrrrk. It’s now been a week and, more worryingly, last night she didn’t even come back to eat the food. Any suggestions (no smart arsed ones, please, I’ve had a trying week) would be gratefully received.
January 26th, 2008 at 8:08 pm
January 26th, 2008 at 8:30 pm
January 26th, 2008 at 10:09 pm
1. Could you get something from the vet to put in her food that would at least slow her down enough, perhaps?
2. Could you position the bowl somewhere where she can then be enclosed when she comes to get the food, maybe have the garage door open, put the bowl inside and when she comes to eat, slam the door trapping her inside.
3. Put the question out to all the grayhound rescues, this can’t be the first time this has happened and they might have some suggestions.
4. call the race track or a breeder for suggestions.
please keep us updated, this is a horrible thing to have happen, and you are doing everything you can.
January 27th, 2008 at 1:09 am
I think you should try walking with Bert towards what she might percieve as a safe area, perhaps where you have been leaving the food. Dont ask anyone else to help. This is a one woman (and Bert!) job! Avoid at all costs groups of people trying to ambush her or round her up somehow. This will undo all your good work. By walking past her and ignoring her you are looking like a leader. This will take patience and lots of resisting the urge to turn around and check if shes coming! Hopefully after not too much time she will follow along. When you gain her trust this way she may follow you to somewhere where you can close a door behind you…eventually. Kind of like Join Up for dogs!
Best of luck!
January 27th, 2008 at 3:43 pm
Tina: Yes, that’s definitely a great idea. Initially on the Friday when she ran away I went and grabbed Bert and got quite near her but he was bloody useless - he’s not a flirt, unfortunately, and he’s so thick I couldn’t let him off!! A neighbour let his pointer go but she ran away from it, even though it’s friendly. Mind you, she doesn’t know Bert or the other dog at all - maybe it would work if they’d ever met, which is why we toyed with the idea of bringing her old kennel mate up. We got quite close to her by walking away and letting her follow, but she’d never come right back to the house. Recently we haven’t seen her near the house at all so it’s not even possible to try it. Thanks for your suggestions though. I so hope this has a happy ending. I left dry food out last night, thinking this would attract less cats, and it’s gone - so fingers crossed this means she’s still around. xx
January 27th, 2008 at 5:10 pm
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