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Dear Kylie

April 2nd 2009 23:21
We have been given permission to reproduce the following letter from Clyde, a greyhound with sophisticated, if idiosyncratic, literary aspirations, to the editor of the newsletter of the Greyhound Adoption Program in South Australia. We love the letter, but then we're biased because it's all about us.

Love,
Daisy and Scratchy


-----

Y'know Kylie, sometimes I get real flummoxed by things. Y'know how I us'ter like ther Missus readin' Princess Pretzel to us?

Well ther Missus now reads us an even better one by a bloke called Chris Champion about Scratchy an' Daisy whot you told her abaht. It's real good'oh, but I got worried abaht the last one where Scratchy had a gutser an knocked ther stufin' out uv Daisy an' Daisy sed rude things ter him.

We've got a real elegant Greyhound girl called Abby fosterin' here at ther moment an' she an' Heidi get on real well. Heidi is me good mate most uv ther time but sometimes she acts like she thinks she's Christmas on a stick an she's real rude ter me too. When ther Missus read abaht poor Scratchy wantin' a tickle an' gettin inter trouble frum Daisy, Heidi gave Abby a look an said "Huh, Boy dogs, aren't they impossible" an I said, "Hang on, he dun mean ter come a cropper, Daisy dun haf ter be so rude, I reckon I should write ter Scratchy an tell him I think he's bonza".

Then Heidi laughed at me an' said "What d'yer think this is? Bush Week? She said I wuldn' know how ter write ter him an even if I did he wuldn' unnerstan' anything I said. She said he's a real city slicker, she said he knows all ther real big words like Daisy used at him, an dun talk busd lingo like mine.

I sed "But aren't most uv ther Greyhounds city slickers? Dun they unnerstan me lingo?" an Heidi seys they are an they dunt! Yer just puts me letter in ter fill up space! Kylie I dun know whether I'm counter sunk or punch drilled, I'm all over the shop an out uv sorts. Is Heidi right or jus showin off ter Abby an feedin me a load uv old cobblers? Der yer know if people want ter read me letters or do they think I've got a couple uv 'roos loose in ther top paddock an I'm as borin as bat shit? Geeze, I feel like a Bandicoot on a burnt ridge, I like writin' ter yu But I dun wunt ter be a berk. I tells yer what though. I dun care what Heidi says about Scratchy. Daisy hurt his feelin's. Hev yer seen terdays bit? It ses he likes hidin his head. I reckon he's feelin as flat as a tack 'cos uv what Daisy sed an he's hidin' his head 'cos she's dark at him.

I still want ter tell him I think he's Bonza.

Can yer ask people if they like me stuff? I'll pull me head in if they wunt me to.
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Magic needs help

January 20th 2009 00:34
greyhound magic

They don't ask questions at AZgreyhounds in Arizona. With thousands of young and healthy purebred greyhounds around the world in need of adoption each year after their time on the track is through, the dogs need organised help.

Sometimes, they need a lot of help.

When AZgreyhounds was notified in October last year by one of the racing kennels in Tucson that a four-year old female had sustained a broken hock and was being retired, they didn't ask questions.

Her racing name was USS Imagine, but that's not what her friends called her. They called her Magic.

Upon arrival at AZgreyhounds, further examination showed that Magic had dislocated all of the bones in her lower left rear leg and sustained a severe fracture to one bone. Orthopaedic surgery was completed on November 7. Recuperation and recovery will take four to six months.

AZgreyhounds, Inc. is, like greyhound adoption programs everywhere, dedicated to the rescue and adoption of these graceful, gentle animals. AZgreyhounds provides educational programs to schools and groups on greyhound history, greyhound racing, and the rescue and adoption program. When it receives dogs, it neuters them, cleans their teeth, vaccinates for rabies, distemper, parvo and influenza, tests for heartworm, lyme disease and ehrlichia, and gives a complete physical and microchip. New owners are provided with a collar, lead and identification tag.

They do all this as a registered charity.

Unexpected extra costs, therefore, can hurt. The veterinary cost for Magic's operation was US$2,600, with an additional $500 needed for x-rays, cast and bandage changes etc.

So it is time to ask a question, and the question is this: can you help?

If so, AZgreyhounds president Dave Breen would be delighted to hear from you. AZgreyhounds is a 501 (c) (3), Non-Profit Organization (EIN 20-1181905). Donations can be sent to AZgreyhounds, Inc., 3288 Sky Hawk Drive, Sierra Vista, Arizona, USA 85650-6623. Or you can contact Dave by email through the web site at www.azgreyhounds.com.

Send a get well soon greeting to Magic while you're about it.






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greyhound adoption
Gentle Tess needs a home

Dammit, it's always a mistake visiting the Victorian Greyhound Adoption Program web site. They have lots of pictures of dogs looking for adoptive homes, and that tugs at the heart. And they have some fiendishly clever copywriting to go with the pictures, and that tugs at the heart even more.

If I followed my heart every time I looked at that web site, I'd have two hundred dogs. I already have two greyhounds and two sofas, and there just isn't any more sofa space at my place.

Today, however, it was especially tough to say no. Today I read about Tess.

Here is what they say on their home page here: "Poor Tess truly believes that no-one will love her because they'll think she's too old. Please prove her wrong! You don't want to hear this old girl cry!"

Why not, I ask - it put a tear in the eye of this old boy.

Here is what they say about Tess on their main information page here: "8yo Whelped 07/01/2000, Racename - OUR DREAMTIME. Tess has been a mum and now she's looking for a quiet couch to laze her days in. Tess is not a girl who needs lots of exercise - as far as she's concerned, the less exercise the better! If you're looking for a quieter, low maintenance dog, then look no further. She is not cat friendly."

Tess is available for adoption immediately. Please, someone, ring them now on (03) 5799 0166.

Before I do.

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Sartorial Scratchy

July 14th 2008 23:07
dog coats

Don't talk about gender equality to the males in lion, peacock and elephant circles. Those manly manes, brilliant tail feathers and powerful tusks are the stuff of struts. If you've got it, flaunt it. It's the sort of top-shelf hauteur I would develop naturally if someone gave me an Aston Martin.

Scratchy is affected by none of this. He is a gentle, easy-going chap. A good sofa and a tummy rub are all he asks. Machismo? Who needs it?

That all changed when he got his coat.

Now I would never say a word against the wonderful people at the Greyhound Adoption Program, but are they insane? With winter coming on, they provided two high-quality coats for Scratchy and Daisy - size Extra Large for the Big Brindle and size Dainty Petite for the Short Black - coats which are equally warm and cosy on the inside, and as different as day and night on the outside.

Daisy got a nice plum and green trim number. Very presentable. Scratchy got a multi-coloured mantle which can be seen two time zones away. Pure razzle-dazzle.

It's enough to turn any dog's head. When we go out for walks on cold days - and Melbourne has served up nothing but cold days recently - you can almost see Scratchy put his nose in the air. His bum has a definite sway to it.

Not that Daisy cares. Much too grounded that girl. The coat doesn't make him run any faster, and doesn't improve his eating manners. He can strut all he likes and he will be ignored.

Try to take my bone, though, laddie, and I'll tear that fancy coat of yours to shreds!



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Daisy, Daisy

June 10th 2008 19:39
Daisy
Daisy

Moving day. The excitement of a new house, bought weeks earlier in a stomach-churning, emotion-laden auction. The stress of organising the packing and lifting and moving and unpacking and mess and chaos. A well lived-in house, it seems, will not empty. The more you pack, the more you find to pack.

Into the middle of this muddle came Daisy. The Greyhound Adoption Program people had nominated this day for the return of Scratchy, newly neutered and approved to go muzzleless in public, and Daisy, his adopted girlfriend. We could have pleaded for another day - moving house is a fairly reasonable excuse - but we didn't. The GAP people do too good a job to argue with.

It is unknown how much experience Daisy, not yet two years old, has had of domestic life, but it would be interesting to know her first thoughts of her new home. "Hmmm," she might have mused, "shiny floors - the Big Brindle and I will soon put a few homely claw marks on them - but where the heck is that stuff humans seem to like so much, what's it called, oh yeah, furniture?"

It was early afternoon and the first truck-load of belongings had yet to arrive. The house had been left spotless by the previous owners. The calm before the storm.

Daisy's papers show her name as Bella. But Cindy had decided there were too many Bellas in our current circle of canine friends, and a name change was called for. Scratchy doesn't seem to mind. He thinks of her as Short Black. It doesn't quite capture the romance of a new relationship, but it is accurate enough. Compared to Scratchy, Daisy is decidedly petite. She is black except for a diamond of white on her chest. She is dainty. And she is an absolute darling.

But she is no wilting flower, our Daisy. Six hours after she had arrived, she was asleep on the newly installed sofa in front of the newly installed television. We had thought she might be timid at first; we had expected her to need a few days to settle in. But here she was looking like she'd been here forever. Just as she had decided to adopt the Big Brindle immediately after meeting him a few days earlier, she had decided that Cindy and I, and our shiny floor-boarded house, would do. The arrival of a sofa only reinforced her decision.

Daisy had come to stay.
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Desensitization

May 29th 2008 11:39
Drive south-west out of Melbourne, on the the Princes Highway towards Geelong, and you come to Werribee. At Werribee there is a satellite campus of the Victoria University. Drive into the campus, I was told, find the car park in front of the veterinary science complex, and look for a man with a station wagon and a long, low, white dog trailer. When you find the man, I was instructed, give him your dog.

I found the man. "I am to hand over my dog," I said.

[ Click here to read more ]
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