You wanna play?

Well adoption day for Ziggy looms. She was the girl in this post.
The naughtiest of all our fosters. The most likely to steal the toilet paper. The one most inclined to chew the corner of the table, or steal my boots, sweater or dressing gown when I step into the shower. Her favourite teddy has had a leg amputated because the injuries were so severe....when bored she will chew firewood. She has more chutzpah and energy than any three of your regular greyhounds. She is as tall as Sooty, but acts like a two year old....because she is two. She will become someone's pet instead of a foster dog and yet I feel no sense of doom and loss as I normally do. I don't find myself self-talking about it being about her needs, not ours. I don't try to concentrate on the new owners as being the logical caretakers of her this time. Because we are adopting her ourselves. She has bonded with Julia irreparably. Peas in a pod.

Above, soon after being told she will stay with us, Ziggy allowed a certain amount of peaceful bliss to calm her down. I swear she feels more secure already- she is just so affectionate.

On a different note, above is some Eucalyptus species wood that I have horded since the 1980's waiting for the right job. I am making a panel to sit above a vanity unit for a bathroom, and it seemed a good idea to use these pieces in combination for the job (yes it is a homage to a seascape). It is in the process of being oiled with good old-fashioned Linseed oil. I have to say (as if you are interested!) that using this oil always reminds me of my mother's father who bought me my first cricket bat and instructed me how to oil it. I oiled that bat almost to death just for the love of grandpa and the love of Linseed Oil...Incidentally, this is the only Aussie hardwood board that I've ever had which exhibits a sort of birds-eye figure. I know it happens, but this is my only piece. I've had plenty of Canadian and US birds-eye maple though.

more about dogs

A dedicated reader (there might be prizes and badges...) may remember earlier posts about our adopted greyhound Sooty and the others that we have fostered until good homes were found for them (-after they were rescued by the organisation that we volunteer with).

Well here are two of them. Lazing laconically, cranked loosely towards the kitchen in the picture above, our Sooty (top) and Tippy, our latest foster are recovering from a bone idle, lazy day, waiting for some serious sniffing, and the business of decorating posts and bushes  - checking their p-mails is what we sometimes call it. I don't mean to be indelicate here, it is just that the things these boy dogs do are done so artfully and with such consideration, to say simply that they are going for a walk is to sell them short. A walk for dogs is a sensory symphony. It places them in the scheme of things, the politics of local wildlife and  the maintenance of spheres of influence when the hounds are walking the bounds.

Well, Tippy has been with us for two and a half months, and that is a long time to foster a dog. We have become a more powerful influence in his life as a consequence, and he also, in ours. He is a big boy and big boys are hard to find homes for. His becoming such a beautiful family member makes the inevitable more difficult to face.

Sooty is even more gentle and affectionate as he has become accustomed to safety and security. Whereas, last year a houseful of family and guests for a week would have sent him to his 'cave' often, for peace, he now engages fully and happily with all the people in the house. And wiggles doing it.

Tippy is naturally affectionate, and has a boofy quality I find hard to describe, but if I said that he has no agenda, limited expectations and just wants an easy life and lots of touching, you'd get a bit of the picture. He has begun to play with soft toys, to be exuberant and express opinions on life. He is inquisitive, hungry and very gentle. We are told he won more than $50,000 before being retired and given up, but he has none of the arrogance one might expect of a champion.

He is our eleventh foster, so I've met a few. For what it is worth, the three dogs that have been most temperamentally matched to my worldview have been Sooty, Smiling Bill and Tippy. They are all  big and dark and neutered male, and while each has had his own troubles, needs, strengths and anxieties when we took them on, they all just somehow reached into me more deeply than most.

the dog splice

The couch faces west and the autumn sun unravelled itself across the floor to where I was sitting, book on lap, beer in left hand. The view was all sparkle and golden explosions where my eyes were looking, so I closed them and focussed instead on the warm orange pink of my backlit eyelids- seeing nothing, but looking at the colours while my right hand draped from the arm of the couch, relaxed and loose.

Rising to that hand Smiling Billy lifted his head and adjusted his posture to be more fully under the space between fingers, confident  they would be on Automatic Stroke. And they were. He didn't know then, like I did, that it was his last day with us before leaving to be adopted.

This is all about bitter-sweet. Simple, everyday sensations and moments that become more beautiful because the moment has limits and what is present and powerful now will not be forever. These are the things I take note of and try hardest to hold onto,  remember and  recreate, but they can't be replicated. It isn't the event that has been moving, it is the context and the meaning and the ephemeral, ungraspable and insubstantial qualities of joy that come upon me when I least expect them.

 Billy was a shadow, a pal, and the least complicated foster dog we've had. A wiggler, and always involved in whatever was going on, he was  loose, laid-back and long, soft as feathers, dreamy, enthusiastic and always hungry. He left us considerably heavier than he was when he arrived. He has moved onto a happy pet-friendly extended family.

The 'dog splice' above is of Billy, Panda in the middle (she is still with us) and Sooty below, anchoring the team. Together they were like a pod of hyperactive dolphins when ready for a walk, a camp of teenage boys when things became competitive, and an ageing choir when a phone rang.

Walking the three was an absolute joy as the four of us would head up the middle of our country road in straight almost military formation, turning in unison to follow birds that flew across our path and waiting patiently and without pulling while one of our squadron squirted a tree, bin or interesting patch of ground.

I document this story because I've really enjoyed the process and these moments are easily forgotten, but I have learnt from my blog that a post can send me back into an experience...and occasionally I notice that others seem to find them worth revisiting too.

these nights are tough

 Tomorrow our latest foster greyhound goes to her new forever home, and we believe she will be loved there and will really contribute something to the people who will become her guardians. Frankie has been a gorgeous presence in our home since she was rescued about four weeks ago, and we have tried to teach her a little about being a regular dog- and a functional companion in a human household. When we first had her at home she walked into glass doors because she had never seen them. She was overjoyed to have toys and affection, and human company, but also to hang out with Sooty, our adopted greyhound.

For all the good news in the above paragraph, tonight is tough in the same way it has been spending our last days with the others we have fostered. They all bring something to us in combination with their own particular difficulties.

Below left, Angel (now called Maggie) was a former racer who was retired to be a breeder. She was incredibly wise and tender, but lacked any interest in walks or exercise in the time we had her because she just wanted company, food and peace. We hope her new owners go further than we had time to, in re-engaging her with the wonderful doggy world of smells and natural noises.

Below right, Rosie was frightened of everything when we got her. She had more neuroses than we could count- particularly her fear of men. But after a couple of months she followed me everywhere and was ready for her new home with Flynn, a lonely whippet and his 'mum'.

We've only been at this for some months, but all of these dogs are happily placed with people who needed them, and are themselves transformed from soon-to-be-exterminated gambling devices into wonderful companions.

So, like the other times, tonight is tough. We'd love to keep them all, but as Julia wisely reminds me, it is not about what is best for us.

I look across at Sooty, who is still a bit bolshy and territorial, and I remember how difficult it was for him to be loving and accepting of affection when we got him, and I remind myself that he had four trainers in his four years before we got him, and he had to compete all the time to get anything. In the end even winning a number of races wasn't enough to keep him alive, so I forgive him his moods, and I concentrate instead on the times he reaches out to me with his foot to indicate that he does want me to keep stroking him, even if he struggles to be overtly affectionate.

And he has been a star at helping these other dogs transform into family dogs. He is rock solid on our walks, and a role model in sniffing, hanging out and welcoming guests into our home. He has gravitas and dignity and when he comes for a cuddle, you feel blessed.

Sooty the Noble Greyhound

This remarkable creature is new to the family, and while I'm more than happy to share my pleasure in having his companionship, the reason I'm including him here is somewhat more complex.

He is three and a half years old,  a former racing greyhound, and having survived four trainers and a short career- including his share of wins- he was taken to a vet to be euthanised, like thousands of similar dogs around the world, when they have 'served' what is seen to be 'their purpose'. 

This magnificent animal is such good company.  He is solid and uncomplicated and calm despite his great physicality. The reason he wasn't killed by the vet is that he was rescued by a local group who make it their business to find good homes for retired racing dogs, and many wonderful relationships have come from their efforts. Vets are often overcome by the wastefulness of these destructions and are happy to have an organisation to call. We offered to foster him for them until a 'forever home' could be found, but I became too attached to let him go without a struggle.

We have watched as he has become used to us, and we him. He is now rediscovering his playful puppy-self, and finding time to dwell a little on the joy of just being. It has taken a few weeks for us to understand his particular needs, his never having lived in a home before nor had the sort of affection that a pet might expect from people. These are a bit different from other dogs, but they are full of pleasant surprises. People expect them to need a huge amount of space and exercise, but they don't. People assume that they are dangerous because they are big and muscular, but they aren't. 

Some might assume that they are 'industrialised' and incapable of domestication, but they are intelligent and adaptable, and they are very quick to recognise a calm and happy environment and give out much more emotionally than they expect in return.

Everyone wants to pat Sooty when we walk him. He is a great ambassador for the breed. Currently he is helping us foster a frightened, timid little female  also rescued from a wasteful end. She has made very quick progress into some sort of confidence and will make someone an affectionate and loyal companion too, and our Sooty will have been a part of her initial re-education from an industry that seems unforgivably wasteful to me.

His racing name was Pod's Elect, and the video below is of one of his better races. 

A disclaimer. I have never been to the dog or horse races and I don't support the idea of racing animals. (But watch him come from behind. He is in the red jumper, no.1)