Senior Greyhounds
By Fiona Chalk
Sad
ly older dogs, like older people, can lose their individuality and personality in many people’s eyes. They can be seen as just another greying face in a kennel, competing for rehoming with younger, prettier dogs. For greyhounds, of course, bred in huge numbers by the racing industry then abandoned in equally huge numbers when they are no longer of service, this problem is all the greater. For every greyhound of seven, eight or nine years old there are a dozen younger dogs also waiting for homes and much more likely to be chosen.
I have had the privilege of sharing my life with three beautiful older greyhounds, two of whom came to me as eight year old dogs, already considered ‘oldies’ and hard to rehome. The other, Molly, who is still with me, was adopted as a comparative youngster at four years old, and is now a grand old lady of twelve-and-a-bit.
When I first considered taking an ex-racing greyhound in 1989 I certainly didn’t intend to take an older dog, and had in fact gone to the rescue with the intention of adopting a pretty little four year old bitch. However on the way round we saw Coal, terrified and cowering, huddled in the back of his kennel. I learned on chatting with the staff that he had been waiting for a home for two years.
Everything seemed to be against him, he was a large dog and was so nervous with strangers that he would hide when people came round, and so was constantly overlooked. He was by then eight years old, an age where he was considered ‘unhomeable’. As we listened to his story, I caught my husband’s eye. We just couldn’t bear the idea of leaving this terrified dog in kennels with no hope of ever finding a home. I think everybody at the kennels nearly fell over when we said we’d take him.
It was only on the way home that I began to panic about exactly what we had taken on. For a start, Coal had lived all his life in kennels and was not housetrained - I had no problem with the idea of training younger dog, but had no idea whether a dog of his age could be successfully housetrained. Secondly, after a life in kennels with a safe routine and the company of other dogs, would he be happy in a completely strange environment, especially given his fear of strangers and general nervousness?
I certainly needn’t have worried on the first count. Coal was immaculately clean from day one - I took him out into the garden on his lead every hour or so at first, gave him lots of praise when he ‘performed’, and within a couple of days he was ‘asking’ to go out when he needed to.
Settling him into a home environment was also much easier than I had feared. He was very scared of things like household appliances and certain noises (in fact he never did get used to the vacuum cleaner, I had to make sure he was in another room when I used it), but he soon discovered that he liked sofas, good food and cuddles. With my husband and me he quickly became absolutely loving, affectionate and completely trusting. However he never completely lost his fear of strangers - he had a bed in a quiet corner between two sofas and would disappear into it and refuse to move whenever visitors - even regular visitors - came to the house.
Outside the house was trickier. Surprisingly he had no problems with traffic (just as well, as we lived in a busy part of
When Coal first came to us he had absolutely no concept of playing, and took no notice of the toys I tried to tempt him with. I still remember vividly the time, almost a year after he came to us, that he suddenly leapt forward, grabbed a shoe that was lying on the floor and charged off into the garden, shaking and ‘killing’ it. I didn’t care that it was one of my best shoes, I just stood there with tears streaming down my face to see him having fun for probably the first time in his life. After that there was no stopping him, he acquired a selection of toys and had a squeaky ball which became a firm favourite. It never failed to amuse me to see him - elegant and dignified one moment, then running round like a mad thing with a squeaky toy the next.
After Coal had been with us for a year (and just as I was toying with the idea of getting a second greyhound to keep him company) I discovered I was pregnant. I was very concerned about how he would cope with all the disruption a baby would inevitably cause to the household. Coal, though, seemed to understand right from the day my daughter arrived home that she was part of his ‘pack’. He was gentle, curious, and completely accepting of the new addition to the family. Once my daughter was crawling he became very protective towards her, and would always be close by watching her progress anxiously.
We had three wonderful years with Coal before we lost him suddenly to cancer at just eleven years old. The sadness at losing him was great, but was far outweighed by the experience of seeing him change from the unhappy terrified dog who first came to us into the loving family dog he became.
Desmond, my second older adoptee, was a very different character. By this time we had two young daughters and had already had Molly for a year. I finally felt in a position to take a second greyhound (greyhounds are, after all, like Pringles, it’s very hard to have just one). I contacted a local rescue and discussed our household and situation, and asked if they had a dog that might be suitable for us. My priority was obviously to find a dog who would be happy with young children and get on with Molly, and I was willing to consider any dog that met those criteria.
The rescue organiser was new to the area, but went through her records and found a dog on their books who sounded perfect. He was eight years old, had retired just over two years earlier and was still with his owner’s family, including several young children. He was described as gentle, laid back, good with other dogs - she remarked at the time that she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been homed, he had been on their books longer than any other dog, but she assumed people were reluctant to take an older dog. She offered to collect him and bring him with her when she did our homecheck so we could meet him - if he didn’t suit then she could look at other possibilities.
We were, of course, all very excited when she arrived, but the dog she brought with her, wasn’t at all the handsome greyhound we were expecting. The most noticeable thing about him was that he was fat - not just a bit padded, but huge. I had never seen a fat greyhound (and have still never seen another as fat as Des was), and it is not a pretty sight. The second thing to hit us was the smell of his breath. His teeth and gums were in an appalling state, and the smell could knock you over from the other side of the room. Add to that claws so long they curled over and made it difficult for him to walk properly and huge bald patches across his flanks, he was not an attractive dog.
The homechecker was visibly shaken by his physical condition and the conditions she found him living in - a small filthy garden shed. She kept apologising and saying that of course we didn’t have to consider this one, she would have another look at her records, find something more suitable. I agreed. I felt sorry for this dog but he wasn’t at all what I had expected or wanted; we would look for something else.
As we talked and went through the formalities of the home visit, Des had been wandering around quietly exploring. He and Molly had greeted each other with lots of friendly sniffing and no fuss whatsoever. He had gently examined the children, tail wagging the whole time, taken himself out for a pee in the garden then settled himself on the floor next to Molly’s bed and gone to sleep.
“So what” my husband asked the fatal question “will happen to him?” The rescuer admitted that for the moment the only option was to return him to his owner and his shed. She would, she assured us, do everything she could to get him a place in kennels as soon as possible where he could receive proper care and veterinary attention, but it would probably be a few weeks before anything could be sorted out. We all stared at him as he dozed contentedly in a patch of sunlight, absolutely unphased by the strange people and surroundings. He looked so settled, so happy, it seemed such a shame to wake him……
So Des never left and we never for a moment regretted keeping him. The gentle, laid back character that shone through despite his ugly and neglected appearance made him a dog in a million. An extensive dental and a few months of good food and regular exercise transformed him into a truly handsome dog and he was the calmest, easiest dog I have ever known, he loved everything and everybody.
Although he was only eight, he did suffer from various health problems, probably because of the long period of neglect and the poor condition he was in when he came to us. He had (amazingly for a dog that had been so overweight) a very sensitive stomach and we had a few false starts before we found a diet that suited him. He was also very arthritic, and was on dietary supplements and eventually Metacam to help with this. Despite this and the discomfort he must have been in at times he was a true gentle giant, a lovely dog who should never have had to endure the conditions that had been meted out to him in his previous life. We were devastated to lose Des to bone cancer at just 10 years old; it seemed so unfair that our time with him should be so short. I’m sure though, that his last two years were happy ones for him, they were certainly precious for us. Sleep tight my sweet Des.
Molly, our current greyhound, is the only one of our greys who did not come to us as an older dog. At the time we took her my daughters were very young (2 and 5 yrs) so the priority was to find a family dog who would be bombproof with children. Molly was a four year old ex-racer who had been rehomed to a family with young children, but had then been returned due to a change in circumstances. The family reported that she had been brilliant with their children, and so she proved with us. She was a playful, cheeky little lass, who thrived on any kind of attention, even from small noisy children, and who joined in whatever games (and snacks) were on offer.
Now eight years on Molly is over twelve. She has slowed down a bit - her walks round the fields nowadays consist of pottering quietly and doing a lot of sniffing rather than charging round at full speed, although she does occasionally kick up her heels and do a quick sprint round with the younger dogs. She still loves to go out, though, and gets very silly and excited when she knows it’s walk time. She shares her walks nowadays with Callie, a collie cross and another elderly adoptee, the two of them sniff around together for all the world like two old ladies at a tea party lingering over all the details of the latest gossip.
We had a serious health scare with Molly just over a year ago. She started to have breathing difficulties, and became lethargic, slow and unwilling to exercise. After initial treatments made no difference she went into the vet’s for a day of tests and was diagnosed with Laryngeal Paralysis, a condition where the flaps which regulate the flow of air from the larynx to the trachea no longer open and close as they should. The options were either to manage her condition - limit exercise, keep her quiet, keep her cool, avoid any stimulation or excitement - or put her through a major operation. It was an agonising decision; not to operate left her vulnerable to breathing problems which could be fatal at any time, yet putting an elderly dog through major surgery also seemed a very frightening option.
I did lots of research, talked to other people who had experience of dogs with LP and had a long talk with the specialist vet we had been referred to. In the end we decided to go for the operation. There were risks, but it seemed the best chance to give Molly a reasonable quality of life. A year later I am so grateful that it turned out to be the right decision. Molly came through the operation well, her breathing was immediately improved and she is much more comfortable and tolerant of exercise than she was before treatment. The only residual management is that she must now have soft food, as she could inhale any dust or small particles directly into her lungs, and she is walked on a harness rather than a collar to ensure there is no pressure on her throat.
Molly now shares her home with three other dogs, a couple of younger lurchers and an elderly collie cross, and is fantastic with all of them. Molly is undoubtedly the ‘boss’ of our small doggy pack, but she maintains that position through confidence and some sort of acceptance by the others of her prior claim. I have never seen her growl, snarl or throw her weight around in any way with the other dogs - but she is treated with absolute respect and where Molly goes the others follow.
Apart from some stiffness in the legs, well controlled by dietary supplements, Molly is fit and well and still enjoying life to the full. I am, however, conscious of her age and the fact she won’t be with us forever. It makes the time we do have all the more precious, and I am determined that her last Christmas, spring, summer - whenever they are - will be as good as they can be.
Three greyhounds with very different personalities - one nervous and sensitive, one laid back and calm, and one playful and friendly; but as they aged all of them have displayed the characteristics that make greyhounds such wonderful dogs - gentleness, adaptability, loyalty.
Along with the grey muzzle comes a dignity and serenity rarely seen in younger dogs.
I now can’t imagine life without a ‘senior’ greyhound. The rewards of taking in an older dog are huge - seeing them learn to respond to kindness, to play, to enjoy life is one of the best things ever. It may sound fanciful, but I feel that racing greyhounds save up all their affection and trust until they finally have people of their own to love. To be the recipient of that depth of affection from a dog who has previously had so little is a very humbling and special experience.
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There are many greyhounds of all ages in need of loving homes. If you could consider offering an older greyhound a permanent home please visit Homeless Sighthounds on the SWT forums or visit the Oldies Club website, www.oldies.org.uk.