I don’t remember very much about being a puppy. As far as I am concerned, my real life began on that cold, snowy day when I met my ‘Mom’
Sounds dreadful huh?
Not really as awful as it sounds, so I guess I had better explain.
My birth mother didn’t have an easy labour. Things were not going well for her, and so she had to have an emergency Cesarean, so the vet had to be quick.
When I was lifted out, I was dead, or so it appeared! I was dropped in with the rubbish while the vet looked after my mother and the other puppies, who were very much alive and needing attention.
Shortly afterwards, when the operation was over and everyone was recovering, they suddenly heard squeeking! And the sound was coming from the bin! It was me! I was alive after all!
It seems that the anaesthetic given to my mother had affected me badly too! I was immediately checked over and placed back with my birth mother and of course she was very happy to see me!
Naturally I don’t remember any of it, but that is the story my Mom was told when she adopted me, and this is why I was given the racing name Endless Trash. Like I said, not the happiest start in life!
I grew up in those racing kennels, surrounded by other greyhounds. I wasnt treated badly, I was happy enough, as I knew no other kind of life. I was fed and exercised and kept clean. I was petted now and then and had the company of other hounds like myself.
I wasnt aware, until later, how wonderful life could be with a ‘Mom’ of my own!
I did try to be a racing hound, but my heart wasnt in it. I’m not saying I wasn’t fast, because I am! But I didn’t enjoy it and didn’t try hard enough I guess. My trainer saw this of course, and so she didn’t make me run any real races. I think she liked me though, because I stayed, and was looked after for quite a long time before she found me a ‘Mom’.
And boy, am I glad she did!