Why Dogs Are With Us So Briefly

This is another story e-mailed to me by a friend.

A Dog’s Purpose (from a 6-year-old).

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog’s owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.

I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn’t do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.

As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt Shane might learn some thing from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.

The little boy seemed to accept Belker’s transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker’s Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.

Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up,”I know why.”

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I’d never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?” The Six-year-old continued, “Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply.  Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.

Take naps.

Stretch before rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

When you’re happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Be loyal.

Never pretend to be something you’re not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.

Enjoy every moment of every day

Greta and the Cockerel

We had a new Greta adventure Wednesday morning. The people next door keep chickens and they have one rooster. Well, the rooster got out of the coop and flew into our back yard, whereupon Greta did her greyhound race memory thing and chased it. She pulled a lot of feathers out and stopped it cold, but dropped it immediately when my husband said, “Greta, drop it.”

We thought it was dead, and took Greta inside. I went back to pick up the corpse, and it was gone.  It was only stunned.

About two hours later, the stupid bird came back into our yard.  My husband spied it from the upstairs window, where he’d been looking out for it periodically for a while.  I guess a rooster is very macho and has to live dangerously? My husabnd called me to keep Greta inside. He rushed downstairs and went out and tried to catch it to put it back over the fence, but it wouldn’t cooperate.

Finally the kid who cleans the animal pens next door arrived; my husband spied him from the window.  I went next door and got him, and he caught Rooster  in one try and took it home.  I had a good look at him, and there wasn’t much damage, just  a little blood on its neck, and its tail was distinctly lacking in feathers, but it seemed OK.

I noticed it didn’t  crow all day, as it usually does, so I perversely hoped that Greta got its voice box or whatever roosters have that makes the crowing sound. Once in the morning is cute; all day and all night gets wearing. No such luck. He was back crowing as usual the next day.

Anyway, when the drama was over,  Greta lay on her cushion as though nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.

Jasmine, Canine Earth Mother

This came to me in an e-mail message from a friend. I have no idea who wrote it, or when, or if it was published anywhere or is just making the rounds via e-mail forwarding. But it’s such a wonderful story, and it describes so well the fundamental greyhound breed characteristic of gentleness that I want to share it.  If anyone has claim to it, please e-mail me so I can put it in the blog.

In 2003, police in Warwickshire , England , opened a garden shed and found a whimpering, cowering dog. It had been locked in the shed and abandoned. It was dirty and malnourished, and had clearly been abused. In an act of kindness, the police took the dog, which was a Greyhound bitch, to the nearby Nuneaton Warwickshire Wildlife Sanctuary, run by a man named Geoff Grewcock and known as a willing haven for animals abandoned, orphaned or otherwise in need. (URL is  http://www.warwickshirewildlifesanctuary.co.uk/index.htm .)

Geoff and the other sanctuary staff went to work with two aims: to restore the dog to full health, and to win her trust. It took several weeks, but eventually both goals were achieved. They named her Jasmine, and they started to think about finding her an adoptive home.

But Jasmine had other ideas. No-one remembers now how it began, but she started welcoming all animal arrivals at the sanctuary. It didn’t matter if it was a puppy, a fox cub, a rabbit or any other lost or hurting animal, Jasmine would peer into the box or cage and, where possible, deliver a welcoming lick.

Geoff relates one of the early incidents. “We had two puppies that had been abandoned by a nearby railway line. One was a Lakeland Terrier cross and another was a Jack Russell Doberman cross. They were tiny when they arrived at the centre and Jasmine approached them and grabbed one by the scruff of the neck in her mouth and put him on the settee. Then she fetched the other one and sat down with them, cuddling them.”

“But she is like that with all of our animals, even the rabbits. She takes all the stress out of them and it helps them to not only feel close to her but to settle into their new surroundings.

“She has done the same with the fox and badger cubs, she licks the rabbits and guinea pigs and even lets the birds perch on the bridge of her nose.”

Jasmine, the timid, abused, deserted waif, became the animal sanctuary’s resident surrogate mother, a role for which she might have been born. The list of orphaned and abandoned youngsters she has cared for comprises five fox cubs, four badger cubs, 15 chicks, eight guinea pigs, two stray puppies and 15 rabbits. And one roe deer fawn.

Tiny Bramble, 11 weeks old, was found semi-conscious in a field. Upon arrival at the sanctuary, Jasmine cuddled up to her to keep her warm, and then went into the full foster mum role. Jasmine the greyhound showers Bramble the roe deer with affection and makes sure nothing is matted.

“They are inseparable,” says Geoff.  “Bramble walks between her legs and they keep kissing each other. They walk together round the sanctuary. It’s a real treat to see them.” Jasmine will continue to care for Bramble until she is old enough to be returned to woodland life.

When that happens, Jasmine will not be lonely. She will be too busy showering love and affection on the next orphan or victim of abuse.

Greta Comes to Live with Us

April 7, 2009

A month since Joey died, and  we have adopted another greyhound: Greta. I was so bereft during the day, I started looking at the greyhound rescue web sites and saw this little girl dog who needed people like us. The description on the rescue site said she needed a quiet home as an only dog, and time and patience to become a happy dog.

When we met her, we knew we had to take her. Greta was one of 17 greyhounds who were kept in cages where they couldn’t stand up or move around, in a windowless shed; and were only let out for a few minutes each day. It was dark and cold and she was in there for nearly two years. Then the rescue people got her.

She was afraid of men especially, but she was timid of everyone and fearful of other dogs. She was in poor health and needed to be fed properly. She had to learn how to walk on grass because she had never seen grass before. (Since we’ve had her, I’ve become positive that she was hit with a stick or cane, because anything that narrow cylindrical shape, even a chew treat, frightens her. We have to put the treat on her cushion and let her pick it up. If we hold it out, she runs away.)

After one week now, Greta is comfortable with us, and with my friend Leonie and her son Justin, who is our regular dog sitter. (They went with us when we went to meet Greta at the rescue kennels.) But she’s still fearful anytime we move too fast, or come back into the room too suddenly. She looks hard and gets into the submissive position until she’s sure it’s me or Ian. At first, when we came downstairs in the morning (she slept on the couch the first few nights), she took several seconds to recognize us, but then her tail wagged like crazy and she came to say hello. She’s more trusting now, even after only a week, but it will take time for her to be completely secure.

I had to teach her how to do the stairs, following the instructions in my book about greyhounds. It took only two trips up and down before she learned to do them on her own, so now she has the freedom of the whole house to sniff and learn. We leave the sliding glass door in the living room open as much as possible so she can  go out into the back garden whenever she wants to. All this space is a little disorienting for her, since she’s been penned or kenneled all her life, but she needs to get used to being in a free environment. So we just leave everything open for her as much as possible, and let her adjust in her own time. She needs a long adjustment time, to establish a routine here and to know it’s her home.

She’s starved for touch and will sit on the sofa or the bed and ask to be cuddled for literally hours at a time. At night when we’re watching TV or sitting and reading, she’s right next to us and stroking her is automatic now. But she is already showing a little bit of independence, and even some trust. She goes to the sofa or the bed on her own now, whereas she followed us everywhere the first couple of days.

Greta is a petite greyhound, much smaller than Joey. She’s black, with hundreds of white speckles. She has a very sweet face, but the sadness in her eyes will take time to go away.

March 7, 2009: A Pet’s Death

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Today my sweet, gentle Joey died. We were in the field for our regular walk, and he came running back to me as always, tail wagging and eyes bright; then he was suddenly on the ground gasping and moaning; and he died. Less than twenty seconds, I’d guess. I felt his heart, and it was beating so fast it was uncountable; then his eyes went blank, and he was dead.

I called out to a passing stranger, a dog walker I’d never seen before, and she ran over with her dog and her cell phone. She rang our number, but my husband  wasn’t answering the phone Because he was working. So she volunteered to go to our house and get him so I could stay with Joey’s body.

She came back about ten minutes later and said my husband  was bringing the car and a blanket. I thanked her profusely and she went off to finish her walk with her dog.

Then  I spied Toby, Joey’s best doggie buddy and his person, Leonie, my best friend in the village. They were walking ‘way across on the other side of the field. Leonie loved Joey, as did her son Justin, who was our dog sitter when my husband and I went on holidays. My husband arrived at that moment, so I left him with Joey and went to tell Leonie what happened.

Leonie was with her friend, another dog walker, whose little terrier Ruby liked run with Joey. Both women threw their arms around me and started to cry when I told them Joey had just died. Leonie’s friend called her husband to come help us move Joey’s body.

Neil, the husband, turned out to be a huge, muscular man who told us (women) to go have a cup of tea while he and my husband (the men) took care of Joey’s body. Off we went. Leonie went home with Toby and I was shepherded to Neil and Linda’s house by Linda and little Ruby.

My husband and Neil arrived at the house at about the same time we did, and we were forced inside to have that universal English cure for all ailments, a nice cup of tea, which we drank while we talked about the dogs. These people were virtual strangers. I’d met her while dog walking only, and we knew each other’s dog’s names but not each other’s names. We’d never met her husband, But they took us in like long, lost relatives. So we had our tea, thanked them and left. My husband told me that Neil picked Joey up like a baby and cradled him all the way to the car (a good 200 yards, carrying a 75-pound dog).

Then I had to find out what to do with Joey’s body, which was in the back of our car. I called the RSPCA, who gave me the number of the nearest emergency vet. In the end, we drove into Peterborough, about a half hour’s drive, to take him to the vet’s office, and they will take care of the cremation.

All in all it was a sad, exhausting day. I am in deep mourning for my Joey. He wasn’t the smartest dog I’ve ever had, nor the most beautiful. But he had the gentlest, kindest, sweetest disposition of any dog I’ve ever met and was loved by all the dogs and dog people who knew him.

Joey, the Dog a Toddler Loved

That’s Joey, our greyhound, a couple of weeks after we adopted him at the RSPCA. We’ve had him five years now, and he is the sweetest, gentlest dog I’ve ever known.

And I say that with some authority, because in nearly sixty years of life, I have been without a dog for only seven years. I’ve known collies, retrievers, setters, spaniels, shepherds, even a coon dog, and various delightful mixed breeds. They were all wonderful, loving dogs in their way. But Joey is something else altogether.

When we lived in Kingston-upon-Thames, I walked him daily to a local park that was next to a primary school. There I could let him off the leash and he could run. He loved having his walk when school was letting out, because he loved the attention the children paid him. There were other dogs in the park, a cuckoo border collie who chased squirrels up trees and then barked incessantly at them; a rotweiller who was often there with no owner and no collar; and various small, yappy dogs who were actually about the right size for a city dwelling canine.

But the children loved Joey, and, when the parents saw his gentle demeanor and his endless tolerance for clumsy pats on the head, they were pleased that their children could be around such a calm dog. He had a fan club of four little girls who wanted to take turns walking him on his leash. I marveled at his patience with these little girls, who fawned over him and hugged him far too much, but he wagged his tail politely and allowed their cuddles.

One mother with a pre-school child of about three and a toddler in a stroller (buggy, to the English), asked if I would bring Joey to the stroller because the baby was afraid of dogs, and she thought such a gentle dog would help him to overcome the fear. Well, Joey sniffed the baby’s head and face gently, then rested his chin on the baby’s knees, and the baby was delighted. He bent over and hugged Joey. I saw this family occasionally in the park, and the baby always yelled Joey’s name as soon as he saw us there– but his mother told me he was still afraid of other dogs.

Now that we live in the country, Joey has his daily exercise in a huge field, with a lovely copse at the far end of it. He has lots of dog pals, a young border collie named Toby being his best pal. They start wagging tails and run toward each other the moment they spy each other across the field. Joey loves his daily run and bounces around like crazy the moment he knows I’m getting ready to take him. But he always returns home ready for a nice, long lie-down.