Post by davidbailey on Mar 2, 2012 17:40:25 GMT
As a number of Droopys Vieri greyhounds have found their forever homes with members of this forum, and have been, and are loved by their new owners, there is the other side of the coin when the real owner doesn't give a damn.
I wrote this several years ago after attending a greyhound meeting at Harlow Stadium. I heard afterwards what happened to Our Vieri after he was hurt soon after crossing the winning line. He fractured a hock, something that should never result in the death of any greyhound. Most can be repaired, but if the hock is really shattered, the greyhound can still live a pet dog's life with a amputation above the hock, that is of course, if you treasure the life of your greyhound. The following is the story of Our Vieri. ( I tried to put it from his perspective)
A Day in the Death of "Our Vieri". (Droopys Vieri X Cushie grace Aug 2004)
It was very overcast Scottish August day when I made my first appearance into the world, one of nine little snub-nosed helpless bundles of greyhound fur whose sole purpose in life was to find their mother’s milk, and then a warm place to curl up and sleep. Life was so very simple.
I don't remember much of my early time in the Lanarkshire countryside with my owner Jack McAllister, but most of it was fun playing with my brothers and sisters. Life seemed good as day after day I become bigger and stronger and my fur, a nice shade of blue made me stand out among the crowd, I felt so handsome and greatly admired..
There were times when we were taken off and allowed to chase things, even though I thought they were not real, it was fun to be able to run like the wind, without a care in the world. I liked this life of fun, excitement and playing with my brothers and sisters. This living sure had a lot going for it and I thought it would never end, but there was one thing that was troubling me, my family were slowly disappearing and I knew not where..
One day as I sunned myself in the paddock I became aware I was the centre of some attention, Mr McAllister was talking to two men I didn't recognise who kept looking in my direction. Made me feel very uneasy. They all came into the paddock but I kept my distance until I was offered a treat that I couldn't resist. They seemed nice so I stopped worrying and listened as they said nice things about me and I felt on top of the world when I heard one say, "he certainly looks a champion.” I was disappointed when they left but I soon forgot them as I stretched out in the sun again.
A few days passed and three more of my family disappeared, a sister and two brothers, who all went off with a man with a very broad smile and a happy jaunt to his gait as he walked across the yard back to his van. I felt sad as I watched them go, there were now only three of us left. Just a brother and my favourite sister. Little did I know it would soon be me who would be leaving the sanctuary of our home?
My turn came a couple of days later when the two men who had shown so much interest in me returned, and took me away. I looked back over my shoulder at my two remaining litter mates with a feeling of foreboding and anxiety, as I knew I would never see them again. The men were nice to me but all I wanted to do was get back to my remaining family, I felt scared and alone.
I shouldn't have been because life improved with more and more outings to chase this funny little furry thing the men called a bunny, that whirred and clanked as it stayed that very annoying distance just in front of me, just out of reach, but excitingly so. I then started running with others who were trying to catch the bunny too, but no one did, so, so disappointing. It was really a life of Riley; I made lots of new friends when once again my life changed when I was taken away to a place called England. Again I was very scared as my fate was once again in somebody else’s hands. Do I not have any say in my life?
My life became a round of racing, kenneling and paddocking, sometimes a lot of excitement, but mainly boredom as I spent many an hour in my kennel. My kennel-mate, a lovely little black and white girl was sweet, but life was so tedious. I heard through the grapevine that my sister, aptly named Titan Grace was living the life of a pet dog (whatever that is) on the Isle of Skye and I wondered if that would ever be me, would I ever be this thing called "A Pet Dog"?
It's hard this chasing around after a mechanical bunny as time after time I am buffeted about... My body aches and I wince as once again somebody crashes into me and I only just manage to stay on my feet. I want to scream from the pain. My muscles hurt and my ribs are bruised but I still have to run, because that's all I know.
It's Friday night, and it seems I'm racing again because I haven't had my dinner.
So it's another long night ahead, and another night with the chance of my returning home hurt. We arrive at Harlow and I must admit to feeling excited as we go through the entrance. I’m taken on to the scales to be weighed and given a fitness check by the very nice vet before I’m taken to my kennel, my home for the night. I settle down and try to sleep but the sounds of the hare running past the kennels and the noise of excited greyhounds makes it very hard to get settled, so patiently I wait for my turn to shine and think of my dinner waiting for me back home in my kennel.
My kennel door opens and I know it's time. I have a feeling of fear, a strange trepidation as if all is not well; I feel on edge, my excitement muted by the strange fluttering’s in my stomach. We are on parade and approach the traps. The excitement of the crowd is audible with the children calling out to us as we wait patiently for our turn to go in. My butterflies are increasing with every minute that passes by. I’m in the traps when I hear the hare starting, my nerves are screaming at me to be ready to go when the traps open, and then I'm running. The faces in the stand are just a blur as the wind rushes past my face as I strain to see that infuriating teasing lure rushing along in front of me. I have made a good start but I'm hurt as I go around the first bend, I manage to keep going and again I'm in trouble at the third bend but shake myself clear and go after old Gus, but he had gotten too far in front, so I had to settle for second as we flashed across the winning line. And then the pain, the excruciating pain as my leg seemed to explode into a thousand pieces. I try to keep going but I just have to stop, my leg a red hot poker of fire. Very gently I am carried from the track, and then into the vets room. The vets' kind hands pass over my leg as I look up into his face and I can see he thinks he can save me, he can cure my hurt. I am saved.
He goes over to talk to my trainer to discuss the best way to go about mending me. Chris my trainer tells him to strap me up and he will take me to my own vet in the morning. The vet did as he was asked and Chris carried me out to his van, so soon I would be home, and my late dinner.
I hear voices, my owner has turned up. I could hear he wasn’t happy, but why am I being taken back into the vet’s room?
Chris carried me gently back to see the vet once again
The vet, Chris and my owner were muttering together and I couldn’t hear what they were saying,
The vet walks over to me and looks very sad and I become very scared.
He gently lifts my front paw and I feel the pain as the needle pierces my skin, he whispers in my ear “I’m so, so sorry” as I gently pass away into another world where loyalty and an aim to please your owner is not repaid with pain and a premature death.
There is a saying that goes something along the lines of.
"Oh Lord when I die, I hope it's as a pet dog, so there will always be someone who remembers me."
You never made it as a pet dog, but you should have done and would have done if you had been owned by me, I will remember you old boy.
This was the fate of "OUR VIERI" at Harlow Stadium last Friday night 17 August 2007. When to all intents and purposes he could have been saved, but his owner chose to take the cheap alternative and put him down.
It’s not greyhound racing that is the problem; it’s the people who see the greyhound as nothing more than a commodity.
Our Vieri's owner is on Greyhound-Data, I hope one day he reaps what he has sown.
I wrote this several years ago after attending a greyhound meeting at Harlow Stadium. I heard afterwards what happened to Our Vieri after he was hurt soon after crossing the winning line. He fractured a hock, something that should never result in the death of any greyhound. Most can be repaired, but if the hock is really shattered, the greyhound can still live a pet dog's life with a amputation above the hock, that is of course, if you treasure the life of your greyhound. The following is the story of Our Vieri. ( I tried to put it from his perspective)
A Day in the Death of "Our Vieri". (Droopys Vieri X Cushie grace Aug 2004)
It was very overcast Scottish August day when I made my first appearance into the world, one of nine little snub-nosed helpless bundles of greyhound fur whose sole purpose in life was to find their mother’s milk, and then a warm place to curl up and sleep. Life was so very simple.
I don't remember much of my early time in the Lanarkshire countryside with my owner Jack McAllister, but most of it was fun playing with my brothers and sisters. Life seemed good as day after day I become bigger and stronger and my fur, a nice shade of blue made me stand out among the crowd, I felt so handsome and greatly admired..
There were times when we were taken off and allowed to chase things, even though I thought they were not real, it was fun to be able to run like the wind, without a care in the world. I liked this life of fun, excitement and playing with my brothers and sisters. This living sure had a lot going for it and I thought it would never end, but there was one thing that was troubling me, my family were slowly disappearing and I knew not where..
One day as I sunned myself in the paddock I became aware I was the centre of some attention, Mr McAllister was talking to two men I didn't recognise who kept looking in my direction. Made me feel very uneasy. They all came into the paddock but I kept my distance until I was offered a treat that I couldn't resist. They seemed nice so I stopped worrying and listened as they said nice things about me and I felt on top of the world when I heard one say, "he certainly looks a champion.” I was disappointed when they left but I soon forgot them as I stretched out in the sun again.
A few days passed and three more of my family disappeared, a sister and two brothers, who all went off with a man with a very broad smile and a happy jaunt to his gait as he walked across the yard back to his van. I felt sad as I watched them go, there were now only three of us left. Just a brother and my favourite sister. Little did I know it would soon be me who would be leaving the sanctuary of our home?
My turn came a couple of days later when the two men who had shown so much interest in me returned, and took me away. I looked back over my shoulder at my two remaining litter mates with a feeling of foreboding and anxiety, as I knew I would never see them again. The men were nice to me but all I wanted to do was get back to my remaining family, I felt scared and alone.
I shouldn't have been because life improved with more and more outings to chase this funny little furry thing the men called a bunny, that whirred and clanked as it stayed that very annoying distance just in front of me, just out of reach, but excitingly so. I then started running with others who were trying to catch the bunny too, but no one did, so, so disappointing. It was really a life of Riley; I made lots of new friends when once again my life changed when I was taken away to a place called England. Again I was very scared as my fate was once again in somebody else’s hands. Do I not have any say in my life?
My life became a round of racing, kenneling and paddocking, sometimes a lot of excitement, but mainly boredom as I spent many an hour in my kennel. My kennel-mate, a lovely little black and white girl was sweet, but life was so tedious. I heard through the grapevine that my sister, aptly named Titan Grace was living the life of a pet dog (whatever that is) on the Isle of Skye and I wondered if that would ever be me, would I ever be this thing called "A Pet Dog"?
It's hard this chasing around after a mechanical bunny as time after time I am buffeted about... My body aches and I wince as once again somebody crashes into me and I only just manage to stay on my feet. I want to scream from the pain. My muscles hurt and my ribs are bruised but I still have to run, because that's all I know.
It's Friday night, and it seems I'm racing again because I haven't had my dinner.
So it's another long night ahead, and another night with the chance of my returning home hurt. We arrive at Harlow and I must admit to feeling excited as we go through the entrance. I’m taken on to the scales to be weighed and given a fitness check by the very nice vet before I’m taken to my kennel, my home for the night. I settle down and try to sleep but the sounds of the hare running past the kennels and the noise of excited greyhounds makes it very hard to get settled, so patiently I wait for my turn to shine and think of my dinner waiting for me back home in my kennel.
My kennel door opens and I know it's time. I have a feeling of fear, a strange trepidation as if all is not well; I feel on edge, my excitement muted by the strange fluttering’s in my stomach. We are on parade and approach the traps. The excitement of the crowd is audible with the children calling out to us as we wait patiently for our turn to go in. My butterflies are increasing with every minute that passes by. I’m in the traps when I hear the hare starting, my nerves are screaming at me to be ready to go when the traps open, and then I'm running. The faces in the stand are just a blur as the wind rushes past my face as I strain to see that infuriating teasing lure rushing along in front of me. I have made a good start but I'm hurt as I go around the first bend, I manage to keep going and again I'm in trouble at the third bend but shake myself clear and go after old Gus, but he had gotten too far in front, so I had to settle for second as we flashed across the winning line. And then the pain, the excruciating pain as my leg seemed to explode into a thousand pieces. I try to keep going but I just have to stop, my leg a red hot poker of fire. Very gently I am carried from the track, and then into the vets room. The vets' kind hands pass over my leg as I look up into his face and I can see he thinks he can save me, he can cure my hurt. I am saved.
He goes over to talk to my trainer to discuss the best way to go about mending me. Chris my trainer tells him to strap me up and he will take me to my own vet in the morning. The vet did as he was asked and Chris carried me out to his van, so soon I would be home, and my late dinner.
I hear voices, my owner has turned up. I could hear he wasn’t happy, but why am I being taken back into the vet’s room?
Chris carried me gently back to see the vet once again
The vet, Chris and my owner were muttering together and I couldn’t hear what they were saying,
The vet walks over to me and looks very sad and I become very scared.
He gently lifts my front paw and I feel the pain as the needle pierces my skin, he whispers in my ear “I’m so, so sorry” as I gently pass away into another world where loyalty and an aim to please your owner is not repaid with pain and a premature death.
There is a saying that goes something along the lines of.
"Oh Lord when I die, I hope it's as a pet dog, so there will always be someone who remembers me."
You never made it as a pet dog, but you should have done and would have done if you had been owned by me, I will remember you old boy.
This was the fate of "OUR VIERI" at Harlow Stadium last Friday night 17 August 2007. When to all intents and purposes he could have been saved, but his owner chose to take the cheap alternative and put him down.
It’s not greyhound racing that is the problem; it’s the people who see the greyhound as nothing more than a commodity.
Our Vieri's owner is on Greyhound-Data, I hope one day he reaps what he has sown.
.Our greys are so lucky to be loved
