Foster Greyhound Mikey

I will agree with my mom that all dogs are intelligent in different ways. They get the simple things that we tend to look past- like how having food every day is a blessing, and spending time with loved ones is essential, not just an option. But Mikey, intelligent? Oh goodness, just look.

This is our foster greyhound, Mikey. I have never seen a happier dog. He likes to run and eat and chase and sleep and play and... his tail is like a flagella, constantly twirling around.

Greys do not come off the track with "house" knowledge. They don't know what stairs are, they don't know what GLASS means (I can run straight outside whenever I WANT? Sweet deal!). Despite this, it took only a day for Mikey here to settle into a home environment. But unlike his other greyhound companion here- our dog Taffy- he does not understand "No!". He does not "do" tricks. Trust me, when you have coaxed a dog's paw into the air over a dozen times with a treat reward, that's a sign you have a do-do dog. A "silly" dog, to put it nicely.

He loves children, so I really home he gets a home where he can be some little kid's best friend. I think that'd be the best home for him.

Efficiency

Lose weight in only 30 days!

Learn Japanese in only a week!

No longer do we have to carry heavy books when we can download them by the thousands! No more wasting an hour mashing potatoes for super, buy instant mashed potatoes! Just add water!


We don't have any time to spare and shouldn't have to make time. We should enjoy ourselves immediately, because we could die tomorrow. Make more money! Watch more movies!

Increasingly alone among billions of our fellow human beings, we strive for the gain resulting from efficiency rather what we're awarded for effort, striving  for entertainment rather than companionship. Are we less patient, now that everything should be a click away and isn't my whole night ruined if the internet is slow today? Are we becoming lazier and lonlier, the more the world has to offer to us, the more we have to offer the world?

What is the price of efficiency?

We're problem-solvers. If it can be thought up, it will be attempted, then upgraded. And again, version5.33435435.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that we're never really focusing on the right problems.

UFOs and Speaking in Tongues

Not my style- a three hour worship service. Half of the time they sang, and half of the time, a woman spoke about her own supernatural experiences. Not one Bible in sight, which seemed counterproductive for any place of Christian worship to me.

Here's the deal: my brother and I are on vacation, and we were looking for a church to go to down by the shore here. This one was labeled as "nondenominational", and since my brother and I lean towards different Protestant denominations, I thought it'd do just fine. I'd done no research about what "Assembly of God" church meant, but hey, they seemed open and friendly as we walked in. Little children ran around and giggled, their parents with a watchful eye on them as they spoke with old friends. Something about their language was off. They're trying too hard, I thought to myself, and then focused on praying for an open mind and heart during the worship.

Turns out I'd need that.

One of the pastors came forward with a story about his young granddaughter. He compared his granddaughter running back to him and holding his hand on the beach to our style of faith- running back to God when it turns out we need Him after all, to watch over and protect us. Near the end of his speech, there were a few voices rising up with "Amen!" and "Jesus!". I'd only seen that happen on TV, with televangelists. I was not used to people being so vocal about their spiritual experiences.

Then, the music started. Cool-looking band, contemporary gospel music. They weren't terrible, although I wasn't paying full attention to them. I was distracted by the two women with their hands up, swaying back and forth in front of me. I eyed my brother and we both suppressed twin grins, but I went from grinning to gritting my teeth as they repeated the last words of the chorus, for another five minutes. With every song they played, they did the same thing. Little children and adults alike shouted out and danced, and then mumbled unintelligibly once each song was over- what they called speaking in tongues. I couldn't tell you if it was normally what speaking in tongues sounds like, as this was my first experience with it. My brother and I stayed seated and tried not to squirm around. Didn't want to offend the happy church-goers by scrambling out the door.
The band joined the audience, seating themselves right behind us. An older woman with long, straw-like hair took the mic and talked about- gosh, a lot. A few of the girls in the kids programs were moving up to the youth group. They were told that they would make fine "healers", "seers" and "prophesiers". The kids left then, so that the remaining adults could talk about the government, angels and aliens. She kept mentioning "Watchmen" (I could only think about the movie) and how she had these visions and dreams. She had seen UFOs often as a child. She claimed to have had a visitation from Christ Himself. She talked about when she was little and people would start convulsing in church, how she didn't know that there had been demons in them. And she spoke of the fast approach of the End Of Times.

We ran out of there the second she was done. Once we got to my car, we stopped walking as little, confused giggles escaped.
The calm and peace felt by the parishioners, it felt too showy. I felt angry about their claims to heal people with their own, human hands, especially when a woman came forward whose brother was dying of cancer. I glanced at my own brother next to me, thinking the pain of losing him would be unbearable, and that giving hope to that woman that one of the other members would heal him was cruel. I even felt bad for those kids, who were told what their role would be in the church. "You will make a fine seer", they would tell one child. Some of the kids seemed more than happy to comply, others looked dissatisfied.

It was not the kind of church I would want someone newly exploring the Christian faith to go to. Very extreme and extroverted worship styles.

To Entertain a Dog

I live with my mother in her husband’s house, and sometimes she works from home. Today was one of those days. She was on a call with one of her clients a few minutes ago, and I know we all had to be quiet while she was working, to create the illusion of an office.

One of my dogs looked me in the eye and started to whine.

I didn’t know how to quiet her down, so I did the only thing I could do- handed her my plastic cup full of water. Maybe she would drink it and settle down?

The phone call was still happening, and my distraction wasn’t long enough for a hyperactive 3-year-old dog. Desperate, I put the cup down on the floor. She seemed to like that- in fact, it must’ve been what she was waiting for. She took the cup by the rim in her floppy boxer-jaws and carried it over to the couch.

No, not there! Not there, dog!

She didn’t know what to do with it now, so she let it go. The cup fell a few feet, landed face down, the water pooling on the hardwood floor.

I looked over at my mother in the next room and couldn’t stop giggling. As I brought some paper towels over, our greyhound was so happy that I was happy, wagging her tail excitedly. She licked my face as I laughed harder, mopping up the water before it leaked into the underbelly of the couch.

My dogs might not always do what I want them to do, but without that, life would be far less entertaining.

Passive-aggressive Facebook statuses

I get the need to talk to someone about what is bothering you. No one should just hold in their anger, but to direct something to one person, in front of hundreds of others? Isn't that calling them out for a public shaming?

Take this status for example: "Some people never mind their own business."

Would you shout that out to someone else, from across a fairly quiet room? You're leaving the other person feeling so vulnerable, and most likely the crowd around you is merely thinking, "Uh oh, drama!". 

 

There's a veil around us on the internet, as other people can't see our faces, cannot hear our voices shake. Surely we wouldn't say half of what we say here, online, to people's faces?

-iNTune

One of my favorite places to be

Being on the road, windows down and music playing, it's one of my favorite places to be. My dad and I used to drive on like that, and he'd love getting lost just for the sake of adventure. Sometimes he would start singing or whistling, and soon enough, we'd both be singing out some Pearl Jam tune. He'd hang one arm out the window (got stung by a bee while driving once because of it...), tap along to the beat.

Meet Taffy the Greyhound

Greyhounds have been used as racing dogs since the early 1900s. They  have a natural urge to run, and can do so at speeds of 35mph. They are the fastest dogs on the planet.

I have never seen a dog that loves to run more than a greyhound, but... this is why I stand against greyhound racing as a sport. It isn't what the dogs are used for, but how the dogs are used on the track.

They are not running in open fields, hopping with the bunnies and butterflies- they are running on circular tracks. Still not too bad, if I stop there. There are some casualties when the dogs are racing, in which legs tangle and jaws snap free of the muzzle. 

Peak inside to where the dogs are kept when they are not running. They are walked back to their cages after a race. The wooden or wire cages are stacked on top of each other. Inside, the dog can turn in a small circle, but cannot walk around. There are scraps of paper or carpeting lining crate bottoms- enough to show a minuscule amount of effort, but not enough for a dog to be comfortable, not the conditions you'd want your own pet dogs to be in.

In the shadows, the dogs are thin enough so that one can see a lot of their ribs protruding from their thin build. They are kept at "racing weight", maybe ten pounds under a healthy weight; rescue groups have arrived at the conclusion that ideally, a few ribs should be showing on the dog, the last two or three only.

A couple of times a day, the dogs are taken out of their cages to do their business in a small outdoor enclosure. They are put back in the cages after stretching their legs, until it is eating time, racing time or potty time.

Outside, in the stadiums, people gamble on which dog will win, as the dogs run around the circular track, chasing a lure. If the dogs are injured while racing, they are of no use to the track. Thousands of dogs are killed due to racing injuries at the tracks, every year. This is why rescue groups began to form to save the dogs, worldwide. The groups can take in injured or "retired" racers (aka the dogs that don't win many races). Most dogs are off the track by age four, about when they have passed their peak.

Meet my dog.

Her name is Taffy: racing name "Tailwaggin' Taffy", daughter of champion racer and stud "Trent Lee" and retired racer "Tailwaggin' Tiff". 

While my family has rescued greyhounds for over a decade now, she is the first greyhound we have adopted that has little to no track history. She may have never raced, as she was taken off of the track at age two. She has no scars, no peculiar fears; my family's first greyhound, Gracie, did not like having her ears touched. We were told that sometimes the trainers will grab the dogs by the ears.

She sits. Although greyhounds can be taught how to sit (it will look like an awkward crouch), it is not encouraged in their training- nor is barking. I suppose when you have several dozen dogs kept in one room at the track, you don't want them all barking your ears off.

My dog is a happy-go-lucky dog. She likes to go for walks, and loves meeting new people and dogs. She is curious and very loyal, not leaving my side even when I'm just doing yard work. Although she loves to run, she enjoys napping on the couch more- they are not endurance dogs, they sprint around the yard once or twice and are done for the day.

Greyhounds make fantastic pets. They are quiet, good apartment dogs and they are low energy. As long as there is greyhound racing, there is a need for foster parents (who show these dogs what "stairs" are and what "glass" means), and for education on the true, gentle nature of the dogs.

For more information on track life and rescue, contact your local greyhound rescue group.