"Oh boy, had I been fooled, and was I embarrassed."

My introduction to the Greyhound was intended merely to be a teaching tool for my daughter and nothing more. I come from many generations of proud "cat people". LOL.


As a cat person, I had absolutely NO desire to own a dog. No, not because I didn't like dogs, I adored other people's dogs, but to share my everyday life with one, was not in the cards for me.


Enter Emma, my daughter : 10 years old.


Always a cat person like her mom, until one day when something misfired in her brain and it began. The endless hounding of me for a dog, but not just any dog... a Greyhound.


Nope...not a soft, fluffy, little barking kitten-type dog..but a huge, skinny, long-legged, bony creature. This continued on for 2 years. She researched, sketched, wrote essays and poems about Greys and left them about the house. She just would not let up.


So to appease her and put a stop the constant harassment, I finally agreed to foster a Greyhound. We made contact, attended a training session, and offered our home to our local group here in Nova Scotia..


This experience would serve to show Emma how much work goes into caring for a dog, how our cats would not accept a dog, how we didn't have the room, how they shed, drool and how they smell....so on and so on. Basically to show her that a dog, but ESPECIALLY a mentally damaged “rescue” dog, wouldn't be the right fit for our family.


After our training session at the kennel, the time had come to match us with our foster. Emma was specific and only wanted a boy dog. She had her eye on a beautiful cow dog named Alfred. I didn't much care, just as long as he was cat safe. I watched as all the dogs frolicked and played. A few times my eye caught one particular girl dog off in another yard who REALLY stuck out. She was tearing around, misbehavin', causing a scene and acting like a total nut job. Definitely NOT the type of dog for me! These pups were all SO different and some had a LOT of personality. Felt sorry for the poor soul that would end up with that handful!


As it turned out, Emma's boy dog, Alfred was already going home with another family. Her balloon had burst. She was brokenhearted. She wanted to leave and try again another time.


But now I was committed, we had gone there that day to bring a Greyhound home with us, and that's what we were going to do!


We spent what seemed like an eternity looking at all the boy dogs in their crates, taking them for walks, etc.
Then as we were about to finalize our decision, I felt eyes burning a hole into the back of my head. Something or someone was willing me to turn around before I walked out that door. All the pups were sound asleep, but for one. She was laying in her crate like a sphinx, watching us intently. “Well, I may as well go over for a second and say Hi.” As I walked towards her I saw the most beautiful, soulful eyes I had ever seen..beckoning me to come closer, her tail whipping against her crate.
That little girl turned out to be Atascocita Gaff...that same crazy, wing nut, girl dog in the other yard that I had watched from afar.


I don’t know why I choose to bring her home. It’s wasn’t like I was unaware that she was a mischievous clown of a dog!
But those EYES. They looked right into my soul and grabbed my heart. Of course, I would only let her have my heart for two weeks and then she’d have to give it back, because again...I was a cat person who would never keep a dog.

Arriving home I was apprehensive with the introductions to the felines.
Really just one in particular. Tabby, king of his domain. Boss cat. I was never worried about the cats safety, but rather Gaffers.


LESSON # 1 was about to be accomplished!!
Four years later and I still can’t explain it. That cat did not cooperate, in the slightest! He did not freak out in a fit of growling and hissing. Nope, he pranced right up to Gaff and bunted his head against hers. WTH? By the next night they were sleeping on the same pillow together. You’d have to know Tabby to understand how completely baffling this was.
Needless to say, LESSON #1 was a failure...big time.

AND as it turned out, so were every other lesson I intended to teach. It didn’t make sense. Everything I thought I had known about Greyhounds was becoming a huge contradiction and I started questioning ALL of it.

How on earth could this Greyhound, who had never been loved, be so loving?
How could she so be so carefree and happy after all the horrors she’d known?
How could she be so sociable with everyone she encountered when she’d been so isolated?
Why did this malnourished hound turn up her nose to the delicious kibble I was offering her?
Why does she bring me toys to play when she couldn’t possibly know how to play?
Why didn’t she cower when I raised my hand?
Why didn’t loud noises or voices scare her?
Why the heck did she still want to go in a crate when she no longer had to?
Why did she run like the wind without being forced to?

What the heck was wrong with this “abused” hound I brought home??!

It just didn’t add up. Did I get a broken retired racer?

Everything I thought I had known, everything I’d read about the racing Grey was not meshing with what I was observing.
I’ve known abused dogs and this is NOT how any of them had acted. Nope, this dog could not have been abused and I was going to prove it.

In my search, most keywords led me to pages of tall tales from Grey2K et al. Even as little as 4 years ago, it wasn’t an easy task to find positive information about the Greyhound racing industry. It was and still is saturated by the naysayers. In your face...terrible stories and falsehoods. It was only if you really had the determination and patience, could you find a tiny, hushed voice somewhere on page 4, attempting to scream the truth. It wasn’t easy to find my way through the weeds, but I cared enough to do so.

I’m only guessing that at that time the industry and the folks involved didn’t feel the need and/or perhaps the pressure to defend themselves and fight back against these horrible lies. Maybe the simplest explanation being because THEY knew the truth and that’s all that really mattered.

Of course, in my search I found that it wasn’t ONLY Gaff or Gaff’s track, kennel, trainers and staff. It wasn’t a one-off situation...it was the norm. Those individuals weren’t monsters but instead lovingly responsible for shaping Gaff into the amazing dog she is today. As far as I’m concerned, these folks have canine rearing down to a science. I truly believe that if these dogs had not enjoyed the purposeful, structured life that they did prior to retirement, they would not be the unique and well rounded dogs we love.

Oh boy, had I been fooled, and was I embarrassed. I had prided myself in the fact that I always attempted to keep an open mind and look at both sides of a story. This time I had not. I didn’t even consider that there was another side.
From the moment I discovered the deception, I promised myself that I would take every opportunity to support those hushed, tiny voices on page 4 and spread the truth as I knew it.

As I end this testimonial, that smart, loving, crazy “foster” dog, Gaffer lies beside me. I knew from the moment I saw her that if I were to bring that sweet girl home with me, I'd never be able to let her go. She’s bewitched me...there's no other explanation.

I no longer claim to be solely a “cat person". I’m a devoted racing Greyhound person as well, with a voice raised in support of those in the racing industry who mold these creatures into the wonderful dogs that we can’t imagine our lives without. I can’t remember these individuals ever asking us to speak out on their behalf before, but they are now and they deserve our truth ...and their truth, to be told.


❤️For my heart dog ❤️
Retired Racer Atascocita Gaff “Gaffer” and those who loved her first.


Tanya Louise
Nova Scotia