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In Loving Memory
of Baby Doll October 24, 1993 - June 9, 2006
I met Baby Doll on the first weekend of December, 2003. We were at a Meet-n-Greet to view a young dog that my husband wanted to adopt; you see, we had 2 greyhounds say their final good-byes earlier that year. While my husband was off walking the young greyhound, I was petting other dogs and talking to Janice, the GPA president. She told me about a 10 year old female that was just returned the day before. She had been kept outdoors with 6 other dogs, had fleas and bald patches, and was underweight. Her family just didn't want her anymore since she was older and they had so many dogs. Janice suddenly looked toward the front door and exclaimed, "Here comes Baby Doll!" Hobbling slightly (because of corns), in bounced the happiest little greyhound I had ever seen. Pitiful little thing, her spine hairless, her teeth filthy and her claws overgrown, she was wiggly with happiness and so friendly. Six months before, when I said goodbye to my beloved 12 year-old greyhound Theresa, I vowed to adopt another senior when one came along that grabbed my heart.
Just about then, my husband came back with the black and white girl that he was walking. He was wild about her, and wanted to take her right home. So we left Baby Doll to go home with a foster mom, and took our new little 18 month old home to meet Sundance, our sole remaining greyhound. Over the next 2 weeks, I couldn't get Baby Doll out of my mind. I was so amazed that she could come to that store in such sorry shape, with what were undoubtedly some painful memories of her past treatment, and still be so happy and gregarious. I had subtly tried to rouse my husband's interest in Baby with little comments about her, but he was firmly against adopting another senior on the heels of losing 2 dogs that year. I wrote Janice an email though, and said I wanted to sponser Baby Doll for her dental and any medications she might need; Janice wisely suggested, "Why don't you guys foster her?" To my delight, my husband agreed. We went to her foster mother's home 2 weeks after first meeting Baby Doll. I sat in a chair, and Baby immediately ran up to me, and flopped down on top of my feet. "She's extremely affectionate", her foster mother explained, as I scruffled Baby's throat fur and tummy.
There were 5 steps on the way out the front door, and the van access that she would need to navigate. "Can she manage these steps, or should we carry her?" I asked. "Oh heavens, yes, she's very agile!". And agile she was! I feed my hounds a raw diet, and they get turkey necks a few nights per week on their own beach towel. The first time I fed one to Baby Doll, she plucked up the beach towel in her teeth and began flailing it around the room like a little bullfighter. Gradually, under our care, she began to gain weight and her dingy fur was replaced with a glossy dark brindle. She was the smallest greyhound that we have ever owned, weighing only 50 pounds. But she ruled the other dogs with an iron paw! Cock-roaching was her favorite position, and she "flipped" most every night while we watched TV, knowing her position was sure to draw one of us over for attention. She loved food more than any pet that I have ever known, and would quietly sneak to the kitchen door without alerting the other hounds for a bite of "secret banana", "secret pancake", etc. Morning and night at feeding times, she bounced up and down, all 4 feet off the ground, up until the morning before she left us. Diagnosed with end stage renal disease 15 months after we adopted her, she was on a special kidney diet which I cooked for her. I noticed in mid-May this year that she was stopping to lie down and rest in the yard during turn-outs, and not wanting to finish her meals. I promised her that she would never be sick or suffer, and on June 9, when she said "No, thank you" to breakfast, I called the vet to help Baby on her final journey.
Baby Doll was the second of 3 ten-year old greyhounds that David and I have adopted. While they each had distinct personalities, they all made easy transitions to our home, were extremely grey-tful and obedient, and very loving. I admit that it is cute watching a puppy grow up, but to me it is more fulfilling to watch a 10 year old bloom in a new, loving environment, sometimes getting to live out their puppyhood for the first time. Life gives us but a brief time with these special seniors, but the months of joy that they bring are worth the heartache that comes with good-bye.
Catherine Shannon
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