greyhound rescue

Wendy and her rescues (part 2)


“I learned about the horrible things being done to Greyhounds after they were retired.

They were shooting them, putting them in hot trucks leaving them to die,  and abandoning them after cutting off their ears to remove their identifiable tattoos.

One day in 1993 while I was waiting to cross a street corner, a dog was leaning on me.  I asked the owner if it was a Whippet, but she answered no, it was a rescued Greyhound.   I said, I want one, I want to rescue a Greyhound.  She told me about the program at AMC (Animal Medical Center), where they used them as blood donors and then adopted them out.

2 days later I got Gracie.  She was the first of 3 Greyhounds.  I knew she was a Bodhisattva (enlightened one).  She had a gentle spirit and was an old soul–maybe it was the way she looked at me. She had a peaceful knowing way about her.  When they brought her in the adoption room she approached me, making eye contact immediately without fear.

She knew we were supposed to be together.

I can’t think of any moment that stands out, but all my time with her was extraordinary.         Everyone seemed to think so too.

We had each other for 8 years.”

Wendy and her rescues (part 1)


“When I was 12 my parents finally let me get a dog.  She was a fox terrier mix.

It was wintertime and nobody in my family helped. I was totally on my own with the dog.

My mother insisted she stay in the bathroom which was very small.  I would take her out with a little sweater, but she would still shiver.

About a month later, I came home from school and she was gone.

My mother got rid of her.  I can only hope she lived a happy life.

I was heartbroken.

2o years later, I married a man with a dog, Xanthi.  I loved her. She was a nut who barked incessantly for no  reason.  We loved her, but she wasn’t everyone’s favorite because of her barking.

One of my memories of Xanthi that is a standout, is when I used to let her in the bed when she wasn’t supposed to be. My husband would come to bed and say, is there a dog in the bed?  I would say, no, and then she would let out a bark.  She couldn’t help herself.

I am a dog in the bed kind of person and he wasn’t.

We were intellectually but not emotionally compatible.

After our marriage broke up, I found out she died through my father.  He never called to tell me.  After all, she was my dog too.