Another night at the dogs
Last night we decided to treat Grandma to her first night at the dogs. We’d told the boys that we’d arranged it earlier in the week and they talked about nothing else, so exciting was the prospect not only of seeing all the dogs, but of gambling away their pocket money.
We got up there at 7.30pm and bumped straight into C, J’s lovely, lovely fella. This was rather heart wrenching, especially for Hubby, as it was the first time he’d seen him since J&C dashed down to us after B had been killed. If you recall, C had been fantastic, taking over the terrible task of dealing with poor B, and Hubby will forever hold C in the highest esteem. The boys, too, were delighted, and #1 was so overcome at seeing C (bit of hero worship there) that he threw himself at him and gave him the biggest cuddle ever (which was probably rather embarrassing for poor C seeing as we were all standing in the lobby with everyone going past). I must admit to having a rather small lump in my throat too, not only for the memories that it invoked, but also because on our girl’s night, J and I had had long conversations about our men, and I was struck at the time by just how much C means to her (and I’m a bit of a big old emotional blancmange at the best of times). Also, frankly, he’s just one of those people that you really take to – a fine mixture of friendly, kind, sage and dependable. Someone you’d turn to in a crisis, which indeed we have.
Anyhoo, after our reunion, we headed upstairs to our table where Hubby dished out a huge 10 Euro each to us. We’re not big gamblers, but we absolutely love seeing the dogs and we decided to have a competition to see who could make the most profit out of the initial amount. I already knew that M, the lovely man who had done the ‘manipulation’ on Dizzy had dogs running, so we sent him a text and asked him their names. Okay, this was slightly cheating, but don’t tell the others. The meal, incidentally, was very good. There was a lovely atmosphere; a couple of birthday parties, including a 21st, helping to jolly things up a bit. One highlight was a particular greyhound called Open Door who really didn’t want to go into the traps (poor choice of name, then). We watched as her handler tried to jolly her along, but the little dog slunk along looking like she really didn’t want to play. We congratulated ourselves because we hadn’t bet on her, but when she’d finally been persuaded into the traps she went off like an absolute rocket, won the race, and bounded back to the handler, tail wagging with a big ‘how clever am I?’ smile on her face. Priceless. Greyhounds just really do have the loveliest personalities, and they come through even on the track. We watched the handlers parade the dogs at the start of the races and placed bets on the ones who gave their dogs a quick stroke or a cuddle – unscientific, but good for the soul.
Well, long story short, I was the victor, scooping a massive 55 Euro from my original 10, mostly because of M’s doggies. #1 was the only one who lost money, and sulked all the way home.
