One year ago, I signed my name on a stack of papers that made me the legal owner of a white greyhound with pink, spotted skin and black-tipped ears. That same day, she had flown into the Oakland Airport from Colorado, where she was a regular on the racetrack. She was woozy and out of sorts from the flight.
She and I looked each other over, wondering what lay ahead. I was still uncertain if I was making the right choice; did I really want a creature who would rely on me for food and water and exercise and entertainment? I wasn’t sure, but her gentle brown eyes made me feel like it was worth a try.
The woman who facilitated the adoption advised me to purchase a collection of toys – her greyhound was addicted to toys, she told me, and carried them from room to room.
Determined to be the best greyhound mama ever, I bought squeaky toys, fluffy toys, toys in funny shapes. Petra eyed them suspiciously, then proceeded to ignore them. According to what I’ve learned about these racing hounds, she spent the first three years of her life in a small, 3 x 4 foot crate. Once a day, she was let out to go to the bathroom. Once a week, she got to escape her little world and race. Race day was the best day, because she was fed twice a day instead of the usual single time.
Of course she didn’t know how to play with toys. Clearly, I had to teach her, and so I got down on the floor and played with them myself.
Look! This toy is squeaking! Haaa! I’m flopping around on the floor with a stuffed octopus! This is so much fun, I can hardly stand it!
She looked at me sternly, as if to say: this isn’t very mama-like behavior, you know, and then she put her head between her paws.
I can take a hint.
For the first few months, it seemed that “Petra” was short for “Petrified.” She was afraid of everything; the vacuum cleaner made her flee in terror, as did the broom. The sight of me making the bed, sheets billowing, made her run the other way.
Then she went through a major ordeal, and somehow made it through. She was slightly less afraid after that.
One year later, she’s starting to reveal her personality. While she will never be a toy fiend, she does spend approximately 3 minutes every morning batting around a fluffy pink dog with “Princess” stitched into its side. After several honking squeaks, she flings it aside and ignores it until the next morning.
She doesn’t flinch at the sight of the vacuum cleaner now, though the broom still makes her run the other way. She wags her tail and yips with delight when I step through the door, quite unlike her reserved self several months ago. The greatest part of her day involves going on a walk, and she loves (adores!) going on rides with me in the car. Sometimes I feel guilty grabbing the keys and walking out by myself, leaving her there with a fading look of eager expectation on her face.
Needless to day, mealtime happens twice a day around here, with snacks in between. Over the course of the year, I’ve gradually made the transition from the highest-quality kibble I could find to home-cooked “human quality” food. It started with the dog food recalls, which made me question what was in her food, and continued when I actually smelled her food, and experienced a flip in my stomach.
Would it be so hard to cook for her?
I did some research, and found the Lucky Dog Blog, run by the folks who make Lucky Dog biscuits. In it, Bonnie has a detailed recipe for something that I’ve started to call “Doggie Loaf.” Looks like meat loaf, yummy for doggies. Packed with lots of meat, a few veggies, a handful of oatmeal and an apple or two, Doggie Loaf is an enormous hit with Petra. I do use the best quality ingredients I can find, from organic chicken livers to apples and spinach from the farmer's market. Rather than debate the "does a dog know the difference between organic food or not," I'd rather take the tack that buying these ingredients is good for the farmers, the planet, and ultimately for her ,too.
I won’t reproduce the recipe here, because I can’t possibly do as good a job as Bonnie does on her blog. Go already! It has lots of fun pictures, and great information for pet owners. Most importantly, Bonnie’s insights about what dogs need/don’t need from a nutritional standpoint is awesome.
Petra is loving life these days; we start out every day with “downward facing dog” pose together (initiated by her, if you can believe that), and we’re venturing ever farther on our walks and hikes.
I no longer have any doubts as to whether I was supposed to adopt her. She’s my girl.
