Things have been fairly quiet on the home front recently, a steady combination of walks, work, play dates, parties and sleepovers (for the dogs obviously, my social life isn’t that exciting). As we tick along in our steady routine, we started to notice Sam was looking a bit off. It’s just the little things, the things that you would need to really know Sam to notice. The way he was standing up from a snooze, the debate over whether I needed to be followed every time I went upstairs, how enthused his greeting was when I came home.
A combination of several little things just had me convinced he wasn’t quite himself so a trip to the vet and a veterinary opinion that arthritis has started to settle in. Examinations, medication and now a wonderful wonderful physio who is endlessly patient with his idiosyncrasies and we are starting to see bits of Sam we hadn’t realised we were missing – the helicopter tail and mini bounce greeting, the launch down the final three steps on the patio, taking his high value chews upstairs (not sure why exactly – head start on a Maisy thievery opportunity I imagine?!)
The physio has been wonderfully, heartbreakingly informative about the damage racing has done to our 7 year old boys body. The way he stands with back legs braced and front legs pointing in to brace his weight, the difference in muscle size and tone in his legs from being made to run around to the left, the misalignment in his hips, the way some joints are so much stiffer than others. As if the mental scars weren’t legacy enough. As if this boy hasn’t suffered enough. We are hopeful that a combination of physiotherapy and medication will keep him as happy and mobile and comfortable for as long as possible – he deserves to enjoy his life in a home.
This got me thinking to Maisy – the way she doesn’t really ever want to move beyond a trot when off lead in a secure field, the way she dips her head in an awkward manner and can be unsure on her front legs. At 5 years old we are already planning to have her reviewed by a physio to see what issues are in place / starting to become evident and what we can do to stave this off as long as possible. We are going to start this as early as we can, because our sweet, playful, snuggly girl finds it hard to trust and be touched by strangers without totally panicking – another legacy from a racing past.
There is zero doubt in my mind that longevity on the track shortened Bea’s time in a home. Raced until she was 6 and a half, and she crossed the bridge at just 8. Kidney failure and arthritis. There’s not much else I can say about that – our hearts hurt for her every day.
There is a consultation going on in Wales at the moment, considering the licensing / phased ban on greyhound racing. If you had asked me several years ago, I’d have probably said licensing and better controls – I think I’m better informed personally now. My dogs all came from licensed trainers and raced on licensed tracks. If this is what licensing gets you at the end, I can’t see that there will be much positive impact at all in the lives of racing greyhounds. A ban is the way forward.
The price they pay is too much. It’s not just a couple of years or a few dozen races that are “short”. It’s the long term reality, the impact that this has on them for the rest of their lives. And I’m conscious that mine are the lucky ones, they survived the track (and it makes me sick that survival makes them lucky…), no broken bones or missing limbs. There are many wonderful sweet, gentle hounds that we call friends that struggle with more significant legacies, supported by their wonderful humans.
From a human perspective, it can be hard too. I wouldn’t change having any of my hounds for the world but it’s hard to watch them in pain, to watch them suffer, to have to say goodbye, when so much of what they suffered was unnecessary but for the fact that humans consider it entertainment.
#cutthechase