GREYHOUND PETS OF AMERICA SEMINAR
Seeing The World Through Your Greyhound's Eyes
by
K.L. Gilley
I would like to share with you some of the things
I've learned. My goal is to have you look at what you do and how you do
it from a new angle.
My first statement is one I am sure there will be
universal agreement with: Human beings are strange animals. Because
humans are weird, placing Greyhounds is difficult. Perhaps I can make it
a little easier, a little more successful by asking you to consider the
following.
I will remind you that of all breeds of dogs, the
ex-racing Greyhound has never had to be responsible for anything in his
life. His whole existence has been a dog-centered one. This breed has
never been asked to do anything for itself, make any decisions or answer
any questions. It has been waited on, paw and tail. The only prohibition
in a racing Greyhound's life is not to get into a
fight----------------or eat certain stuff in the turn out pen.
Let us review a little. From weaning until you go
away for schooling, at probably a year and a half, you eat, grow and run
around with your siblings. When you go away to begin your racing career,
you get your own "apartment," in a large housing development. No one is
allowed in your bed but you, and when you are in there, no one can touch
you, without plenty of warning.
Someone hears a vehicle drive up, or the kennel
door being unlocked. The light switches are flipped on. The loud mouths
in residence, and there always are some, begin to bark or howl. You are
wide awake by the time the human opens your door to turn you out. A
Greyhound has never been touched while he was asleep.
You eat when you are fed, usually on a strict
schedule. No one asks if you are hungry or what you want to eat. You are
never told not to eat any food within your reach. No one ever touches
your bowl while you are eating. You are not to be disturbed because it
is important you clean your plate.
You are not asked if you have to "go outside." You
are placed in a turn out pen and it isn't long before you get the idea
of what you are supposed to do while you are out there. Unless you
really get out of hand, you may chase, rough house and put your feet on
everyone and every thing else. The only humans you know are the
"waiters" who feed you, and the "restroom attendants" who turn you out
to go to the bathroom. Respect people? Surely you jest.
No one comes into or goes out of your kennel
without your knowledge. You are all seeing; all knowing. There are no
surprises, day in and day out. The only thing it is ever hoped you will
do is win, place or show, and that you don't have much control over. It
is in your blood, it is in your heart, it is in your fate-- or it is
not.
And
when it is not, then suddenly you are expected to be a civilized person
in a fur coat. But people don't realize you may not even speak English.
Some of you don't even know your names, because you didn't need to. You
were not asked or told to do anything as an individual; you were always
part of the "condo association; the sorority or fraternity and everyone
did everything together, as a group or pack. The only time you did
anything as an individual is when you schooled or raced, and even then,
You Were Not Alone.
Suddenly, he is expected to behave himself in
places he's never been taught how to act. He is expected to take
responsibility for saying when he needs to go outside, to come when he
is called, not to get on some or all of the furniture, and to not eat
food off counters and tables. He is dropped in a world that is not his,
and totally without warning, at that.
Almost everything he does is wrong. Suddenly he is
a minority. Now he is just a pet. He is unemployed, in a place where
people expect him to know the rules and the schedule, even when there
aren't any. (How many times have you heard someone say, "He won't tell
me when he has to go out." What kind of schedule is that?) Have you
heard the joke about the dog who says, "My name is No-No Bad Dog. What's
yours?" To me that is not even funny.
All the protective barriers are gone. There is no
more warning before something happens. There is no more strength in
numbers. He wakes up with a monster human face two inches from his.
(With some people's breath, this could scare Godzilla.) Why should he
not, believe that this "someone," who has crept up on him, isn't going
to eat him for lunch? (I really do have to ask you ladies to consider
how you would react if someone you barely knew crawled up on you while
you were asleep?) No, I will not ask for any male input.
Now he is left alone, for the first time in his
life, in a strange place, with no idea of what will happen or how long
it will be before someone comes to him again. If he is not crated, he
may go though walls, windows or over fences, desperately seeking
something familiar, something with which to reconnect his life. If he
does get free, he will find the familiarity, within himself: the
adrenaline high, the wind in his ears, the blood pulsing and racing
though his heart once again--until he crashes into a car.
Often, the first contact with his new family is
punishment, something he's never had before, something he doesn't
understand now, especially in the middle of the rest of the chaos. And
worst of all, what are the most common human reactions to misbehavior?
We live in a violent society, where the answer to any irritation is a
slap, punch, kick, whip, or rub your nose in it. Under these
circumstances, sometimes I think any successful adoption is a miracle.
He is, in effect, expected to have all the manners
of at least a six-year old child. But, how many of you would leave an
unfamiliar six-year old human alone and loose in your home for hours at
a time and not expect to find who knows what when you got back? Consider
that if you did, you could be brought up on charges of child abuse,
neglect and endangerment. Yet, people do this to Greyhounds and this is
often the reason for so many returns.
How many dogs have been returned because they did
not know how to tell the adopter when they had to go out? How many for
jumping on people, getting on furniture, counter surfing, separation
anxiety, or defensive actions due to being startled or hurt (aka
growling or snapping)? So, let's understand: it isn't the dog's "fault" he
doesn't know how to fit in. He is not even equipped with the social skills of a
six-year old human. Try to see things through your dog's eyes so that
you can help him adjust to his new life.
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