Pocket Rockets
So, a very exciting trip ensued – along with our enthusiastic visitors (probably got sick of looking at rabbits, after all when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all) – to the lovely lady, J, that rehomes the retired greyhounds. Having given her our details (two mental offspring, numerous rabbits, but on the plus side secure fences all round and large gardens) she had chosen a dog that she thought suitable. She was, she explained, recently retired with a good few wins under her belt, but now surplus to the trainer’s requirements and he wanted her gone. Now. So J had taken her in and with kindness and patience, started to introduce her to people when all she had known was racing and a straw bed in a very small kennel.
Well, our first introduction was heartbreaking. J introduced us to the most beautiful fawn greyhound girl. She was wide eyed and a bit nervous, but took the treats we offered very graciously. She was still at racing fitness – they really are a sight to behold: enourmous muscly haunches (worn bare and pink from sitting on hard ground and straw), big shoulders and so streamlined you could play a tune on her ribs. When hubby knelt down to talk gently to her while rubbing her ears, she delicately rested her long muzzle against his cheek, huge brown eyes gazing adoringly at him through surprisingly long lashes. We were smitten.
J explained that once in a home environment, her hair would grow back, she would start to fill out, but obviously would be unlikely to ever get fat, would become more confident – playful even – around us, and would need surprisingly little care. Apparently they’re known as the ‘forty mph couch potato’ as although they can produce enormous bursts of high speed, generally they can sleep up to 8 hours in the day and all night as well, needing only a couple of ‘comfort breaks’ in the form of a short walk.
We were allowed to take her for a run in the field adjoining the kennels and – wow – you should have seen her go! #1 and #2 were sent to run to the top of the grassy hill, and the dog was let off the lead. She set off after them like a thundering rocket and was sitting gracefully at the top of the hill sporting a bored expression by the time they arrived, puffing and panting, to join her. They then all careered back down, the greyhound thundering past us again at astonishing speed. I tentatively noted that maybe an extending lead wouldn’t be a good idea. ‘Er..no’, said J, ‘not unless you want to lose your entire arm from the shoulder down, or in the case of the children, become a human kite!’.
We then had a very entertaining look around the kennels where there were also some racing dogs kept by the owner. They’re incredible up close, so streamlined and powerful, with shining short coats that are surprisingly soft to the touch. Some were aloof, but one in particular took hubby’s fancy. The owner informed us that she was his prize racer, and wouldn’t let her go for less that 10,000 Euro. Hubby sneakily took note of her name. Just in case, you understand.
There were also several other ex-racers awaiting rehoming. One large male caught my eye with his incredible black and white colouring. He was so friendly, he was able to get his whole nose through the small gap used as a handle in the wire door. He squeaked and yipped with excitement as we stroked his soft nose. Ahh..I could have packed them all up and taken the lot there and then.
Home once more, another family conference ensued. This time, though, there were no flying cushions or raised voices. We’re in total agreement.
