Adopt a Greyhound

A few months ago my library had a program that was almost enough to turn me into a dog owner. A woman from the Augusta area Greyhound Placement Service came to talk about their Adopt a Greyhound program, and about greyhounds in general. She brought her own two dogs, who were beautiful, and beautifully behaved. They let us pet them to our hearts' content, which Beverly said is typical of them, and which is also very soothing. I can see why one of the people who posted an entry on the organization's web site talked about taking his greyhound with him when he went to work at a summer camp. The dog serves as dog therapy for homesick kids.

Since it was a cold January evening, Beverly's two serene beauties arrived wearing their winter coats. I used to think people were foolish, putting clothes on dogs, but now I understand that for some dogs it is a real kindness, since they have very thin natural coats. And greyhounds really are to a large extent "skin and bone," with very little protective fat.

The dogs to be found at the Placement Service, as at similar organ-izations throughout the country, are racetrack retirees, looking for a good home in which to grow old. They are thus not frisky puppies, but calm senior citizens.

On the other hand, one of the interesting – and daunting – things Beverly mentioned is that when you contract to take one of their dogs, you have to sign an agreement to keep it on a leash whenever you take it out. She used a term I'd never heard before – sighthound – to describe the greyhound's nature, which means if it sees something it identifies as "prey", i.e., something moving fast, it's going to take off after it. At the kind of speeds that make it so impressive on the race course. I'm sitting there thinking, 'And little old me holding onto a leash is going to keep it from taking off like that?' I had a cartoon-like mental image of a fat, balding man flying through the air at the end of a leash behind a fang-baring greyhound, in pursuit of a kitty cat.

My brother and sister-in-law in Texas had a greyhound for years, and I always thought having such a large dog gallumping around the house would be a drag. Well, certainly in my tiny house it would be, but apparently a normal-sized house is quite enough room for most greyhounds who are, after all, accustomed to spending much of their time, when not racing, inside kennels. I had also been rather ap-palled by the large "cage" (my word – I think crate or kennel is what they're usually called) the dog was consigned to when Steven and Loretta left the house, and at night. But, again thanks to Beverly, I have learned that these are not cruel doggy prisons, but places where the animals feel safe, and which they know they must not "dirty."

Actually, the issue of "going" was one of the more amusing that came up. Beverly said you often have to encourage greyhounds to go out to do their thing, because they don't necessarily let you know when they need to. Do not scratch the door, bat your leg or whine, etc., like other dogs.

As I've mentioned before, I'm not really a dog person, at least not in terms of owning one myself. But if I were to change my mind -- and if I had the necessary $175 "donation" -- I think it would be for one of these graceful, gentle, doe-eyed creatures – that almost never bark! (Barking being one of the things I don't like about dogs.)

Dogs Revisited

O.K., I did call about the dogs. About 15 minutes after I finished my last blog. I learned from the police that there had been other complaints, which rather surprised me. It has been my observation that people generally do not complain about things, except to one another, or people who can’t have any impact on the situation.

The dispatcher said they would send someone out, but as far as I know they never did; and the owners came home about 15 minutes later. A few days after that, when I spotted Matt (not his real name) actually home, and outside (he and his wife are very rarely home that they are not, from all appearances, sleeping), I did something I didn’t want to do, but that my conscience told me was the “right” thing to do.

When I went over, Matt was removing many, many huge stuffed garbage bags from the little room that is built onto the back of the kitchen which is itself built onto the back of the house. Evidently my neighbors wait even longer than I do to go dump their garbage. I asked him if he was aware that his dogs barked and howled a good deal of the time that he and Patty (not her real name) were away. He said no, but it didn’t surprise him. He then said that two of them were going to going to doggie school soon, and one of them was going to be getting some kind of injection, because it was so hyper. (What on earth could that be? A doggie tranquilizer?)

So now I made the offer that I didn’t want to make, but felt I should make. “I’d be glad to let them out every now and then, say when I get home. Maybe if they were able to get out a little more often when y’all have to be gone all day, they wouldn’t be quite so unhappy, having to stay inside.” We had already discussed the fact that yes, they were kept in “the doggie room” while Matt and Patty were at work.

Matt said he would talk to his wife about my offer, but so far no one has come knocking on my door to say, yes, that would be great if you would do that. To my secret relief. And frankly, I am now skeptical that even if they did take me up on my offer, it would really help. I’ve noticed that the dogs often start barking within 15 minutes of their owners' leaving, which puts it at maybe 20 minutes after they’ve been let out. I think they just don’t like being shut up in that room, and my God, who can blame them?

It’s hard for me to understand people having animals like this when they cannot be around to care for them properly. You may “love dogs,” but making them spend up to ten hours in one room (one hot room, these days), where they can’t (presumably) relieve themselves is very tough love indeed.

I used to feel the same way when I lived in New York City, and would see people out walking these enormous dogs. Everybody lives in an apartment in New York, and relatively few are the big, spacious abodes you see in Woody Allen movies. I would feel so sorry for all those dogs, forced to spend most of their lives in a very limited amount of space. Of course, their masters and mistresses did walk them – and nowadays they even pick up their poop! – which was at least something. But to my mind dogs, especially big dogs, need to be able to run. They need a yard to romp in, or they need to be taken to a park where they can be let off the leash for at least a little while, to go tearing around after sticks or frisbees. If you can’t provide your big dog with that, maybe you shouldn’t have your big dog. And if you are going to be gone from home for as much as ten hours almost every day of the week, maybe you shouldn't even have your little dogs.

Maybe we should ask the dogs how they feel about this.

Ethical dilemma

I’m not the kind of person who cares to have a dog. They bark, require too much care, dig up and pollute your yard (or the street -- and then you have to pick the pollution up) and have bad breath. But I like them all right. Some of them are very cute, and they’re friendly, and receptive to affection, which is pleasant. But whether or not I would want one, I certainly object to their abuse.

There is a house I pass when I take the back way to work (longer, but aggravation-free, as there is virtually no traffic, so I’m not going to get stuck behind someone who insists on driving the ridiculously low speed limit). This house has a large, unfenced yard. It also has a tiny fenced-in area, up against the garage, for the dog. Actually, it used to be two dogs, and large ones at that, stuck in this little space for most of their waking hours, and in all kinds of weather (there is a dog house in the space, that looks indecently small). I would cringe every time I saw them. Why don’t those people fence in the whole yard, or even just a larger section of it, and give their animals a modicum of freedom, I’d fume.

But this is as nothing compared to my next-door-neighbors. These are a young couple whose lives are an endless mystery to me. They both drive (very noisy) pickups sometimes. From time to time one or the other truck disappears, to be replaced by some other vehicle. But the trucks always come back.

Since I moved in, a year ago, the husband has usually left for work sometime between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m. Not always at the same time. What could he do for a living that didn’t require that he leave at the same time every day, but did require that he leave before most people are even up? For most of the winter the wife, who has a commercial license (as I learned in a brief conversation with her one day) had a job delivering fuel to gas stations in the dead of night. She left for work at midnight, after letting her incredibly noisy diesel truck idle in their driveway for 10-15 minutes. Said driveway is, quite literally, right outside my bedroom window.

Well, lately, the old departure times have disappeared. Now they both seem to be gone most of the day and night. But these young people have three dogs. Whom they were wont to let out into their small back yard three or four times a day for 5-10 minutes, (during which time one of the dogs would bark non-stop). They do not walk these dogs. And now the dogs are lucky to get maybe four minutes of toilet and exercise time a couple of times a day. The rest of the time they are apparently shut up in a room on the other side of the house from me. I say apparently because every half hour or so you can hear what sounds like some very unhappy bark-bark-barking, emanating from that location. I can only thank my lucky stars that I don’t live in the house on the far side of the Dog House. That place is currently vacant, or surely the residents would complain.

Which takes me to my dilemma. Should I complain? Or, to be more accurate, should I report the situation to the police? I already know it wouldn’t do any good to say anything to the couple, although speaking directly to the person who is responsible for a situation is generally the best approach. I have had a couple of run-ins with the wife, once when I complained about the little Dog That Can’t Stop Barking, when they were outside; and once when that damn truck was allowed to idle for half an hour. In each case she was very defensive. I am sure her response now would be, we have to be at our work (I’m assuming that’s where they are), what else can we do with them? And I’ll admit I don’t relish the idea of the animals being left out in the yard for all the hours and hours the couple are gone. Not given that one very undisciplined little thing, that apparently will only not bark when the husband or wife is there watching them (as they do, whenever they let them out).

I also do not relish the idea of being at odds with my neighbors. Strained relations between neighbors is very unpleasant indeed.

Good grief.