Phoebe

My life began in Ireland where I entered the world on a cold day in 1988. I was part of a large litter born to a bitch who was already weary of motherhood and struggling to provide enough milk for us all. It was her destiny to supply her owner with as many puppies as she could in the hope that some of us could be sold to train for racing. I knew nothing of this at the time or the cruel fate that was to befall me and so many others like me. I did not understand what money was or how some humans will go to any lengths - even to inflict misery and suffering on other creatures in their overwhelming desire to possess it.

When I was just a few weeks old, I was taken from my mother and placed in a container for the long journey to England. I had been sold and was destined to be trained to race alongside other dogs on a track so that humans could try to guess who would be the winner. Apparently this could make them very rich and able to buy lots of things which they could not afford from their normal work. However they could also lose their money which would make them very unhappy and sometimes ruin the rest of their lives. I thought this was rather a stupid way to behave but had learned that it was best to obey my human masters and do what they wanted without question.

Months passed and I grew bigger and faster. I could outrun many of the other dogs that lived in the kennels alongside mine. We were given food and shelter and were taken out to learn how to chase as fast as we could. Life was not too bad. I was not ill treated and accepted my lot, as I knew nothing else. Sometimes it was fun to run through the grass with my ears flattened against my neck and the wind rushing over my back. Much of the time though I was lonely and very bored. I spent many hours alone in my kennel and I longed for someone to come and spend some time with me. The humans were always far to busy for this. Some days I was taken out of my kennel and put into a large vehicle with other dogs. We were all taken to a place called a racetrack. It was very noisy and the bright lights dazzled my eyes. One by one we were led out and put into these things called traps where we waited in anticipation. When the trap opened we all raced as fast as we could, chasing the dummy hare on the side of the track. Nobody ever managed to actually catch this hare so we never really had a good look at it. After the race we were taken to await the journey back to our kennels. This was to be my life for the next four years.

When my legs began to ache and I could not keep up with the other dogs during the running, it was decided that I was no good for racing any more. I had heard that some dogs suffered terrible fates when they were unable to race any longer and I was very apprehensive about my future. I was passed from one person to another over the next two years. Some tried to get me to race at strange places, which were even more frightening than those that I was used to. I sometimes did not get enough to eat and the kennels I lived in were very uncomfortable.

I did not have a proper bed and usually had to lie on cold concrete. Occasionally I had the luxury of a little straw to lie on but this soon became flattened and damp. The wind and rain blew through the kennel and winter was a very hard time. I was always cold and often wet. No one had a kind word for me and nobody cared that I was miserable. I was incapable of doing anything but endure my hardships as best I could.

Eventually I was given to a man who was to be my owner until I was 12 years old. I lived in a shed outside with three other dogs. My sole purpose was to produce litters of puppies, which my owner could sell. Life was very hard. I often wished I could close my eyes and drift into that peaceful state from which there is no waking. Sleep was the only release from the hardships that were my destiny. I grieved silently when my dear puppies were taken away. I knew that they were going to be used by humans in some way and I feared for them. They were so young and tiny. They were so unprepared for the hardships to come.

Over the years I grew thin and very weak. The poor food that I had been given had caused my teeth to rot. My mouth became badly infected and the pain was often intolerable. I became unable to eat. I itched constantly from the fleas and ticks that covered my pathetic body. I had bald patches on my back from lying on damp hard floors. I lost the will to go on. I was finally beaten by life’s cruelty. I looked forward to my release from pain and misery.

My owner realised that I was no longer any use to him and decided I must go. (It never, for one moment, occurred to him to take me to a vet and get treatment for me.) I was not afraid as I had long ago learned to accept whatever happened. Vets have to be paid to end the life of an animal and my owner was not about to spend money on me. He decided to ring the local Greyhound Rescue saying that if they did not want me he would kill me himself. I heard afterwards that there was some discussion about whether the rescue could help, as all their kennels were full and several of the people felt that it would be kinder if I was painlessly put out of my misery. Nobody would offer a home to such an old dog. In the end it was decided that I should go to a kennel that had a space, although it was not one of the better ones used by the rescue. I was therefore duly taken to this establishment. I would have preferred death to a long drawn-out and painful end in this place. However, unbeknown to me, my luck was about to change in a miraculous way.

A lady who knew about the plight of greyhounds had heard about me during a telephone conversation when I was mentioned. She immediately rang the kennels where I was with the idea of finding out a bit more about me and then trying to find me a home. She soon realized that the owner of my kennels was not particularly bothered about my plight and was very dismissive of my problems.

She instantly decided that she was not going to let me stay in that place a moment longer than she could help. She spoke to a very nice lady called Beckie who does so much to help greyhounds. Beckie agreed to collect me from this kennel and take me to the nearest Greyhound Trust kennel so that the lady could then collect me.

When I arrived at the new kennel with Beckie, the Carlton television people were there and I was filmed as I very gingerly struggled to get out of the car. My legs were hurting and my mouth was so painful but I was greeted by such wonderful caring people who did their best to make me comfortable. They looked at my poor thin body, balding coat and sore putrefying mouth. Two days later, on May 1st (which also happened to be my birthday), I was collected to go off to my new home.

I had never lived in a house before and it was all so strange. I could not believe that my new mum and dad seemed to be so concerned to make me happy and comfortable. It was all so bewildering. I was allowed to sleep on a big sofa with a cosy blanket to keep me warm. My mum spent hours getting all the horrible parasites off my coat and I started to feel so relieved to have my coat clean and be free of the itching at last. I was taken to the veterinary surgeon the next day and was given an anaesthetic so that he could treat my mouth. He removed 17 teeth and I was given antibiotics to treat the infection.

When I woke up, my mum gave me some scrambled eggs. They tasted delicious. I have experienced so many new flavours since I came to live in my new home. My mouth feels so much better and I can eat without pain. I am given extra vitamins and a tin of sardines each day as well as my usual food. I have weetabix for breakfast each morning with a special tablet to help my circulation and nervous system. I have learned to enjoy walks in the woods and romps over the local fields with my new family. There are six other old dogs in our family. Danny is another greyhound and he helped me a lot to settle in and showed me what to do. I learned immediately that I went in the garden to relieve myself, although my mum never minds if someone has an accident. My favourite place is to lie in the back of the family car when it is parked safely behind the garage door with the tailgate up so that I can watch the birds and squirrels in the garden. If it is a bit chilly my mum wraps me in a warm blanket and I have a pillow under my head. Often the two Jack Russells will climb in beside me and cuddle up. I have also become good friends with Billy who is a large fifteen-year-old golden-coloured collie cross with very bad arthritis. We often have a wander round the garden together.

I have been here for nearly five months now but I am still bewildered by the love and attention that is showered on me. I cannot believe that life could be so good. I did not know that humans could be like this. I see tears in my mum’s eyes, as I look at her in bewilderment when she gives me a cuddle or when my dad tucks me up for the night. I am so grateful for everything they do for me although my mum says I should not have to be grateful. She says that we all have a right to be cared for properly and not to be allowed to suffer. They tell me that on Sunday we are going on something called a “holiday” in North Devon. It sounds very exciting. I am so glad that now I am so much fitter and have put on lots of weight so you can no longer see my ribs or backbone. My back legs are still a little wobbly but much better than they were. Danny and I are looking forward to seeing the sea for the first time. Mum says we will be able to paddle every day and it will help my legs. It will be a long way in the car but it is lovely and cosy with a nice foam bed to sleep on. Danny, Poppy and I sleep in the back while Amy and Billy sleep on the back seat. The two naughty JR's try to sit on Mum’s knee.

I now know that there are many wonderful people out there who devote their lives to trying to help us greyhounds. Those like me who have been given a chance of happiness in our golden years are so grateful to them all. My mum says she knows there are thousands of dogs just like me that nobody knows about and are the forgotten victims of the greyhound racing industry. So many dogs are bred for racing and many do not make the grade. All will end their racing lives while they are still young enough to have many years ahead of them. Sadly there never could be enough homes for them all as there are already too many homeless dogs which nobody wants. There will be no solution while humans put greed before compassion. Some greyhounds suffer much more than I have. Some are sent off to race until they drop from exhaustion on the dreadful tracks in Spain. Others in this country are “disposed of” in horrific ways when they are no longer good for racing. Yet others, like me, live out their lives in bleak sheds – the forgotten ones with little hope of the happy ending which brought me so much joy. Please keep fighting on behalf of all my friends who are still suffering out there. They need your help desperately. You are the only voice they have……………...

Phoebe and her family moved to North Devon permanently on April 12th 2001. Phoebe loved her new life. She became confident of paddling in the sea and cooling off in the shallow rock pools on the beach. She eagerly ran up the slope from the beach to the sand dunes as if she was a puppy. The fields around her new bungalow home were full of buttercups, birds were singing in the garden and life was good. The only concern was Phoebe’s remaining two back molar teeth, which were becoming very rotten and decay had set in causing her pain at night and difficulty eating.

Phoebe had been taken to the vet before she moved where she was given antibiotics and painkillers. However it was decided that it would be best to remove these teeth. On Tuesday 15th May, Phoebe was taken to the vet and checked for her heart and lung function. She then had a blood test to see if her liver and kidneys were functioning properly also. Everything seemed fine. Phoebe was so much stronger than she had been a year ago when she had 17 teeth out.

At noon Phoebe’s mum received a call from the vet to say that after the teeth had been removed Phoebe’s heart had stopped and they had been unable to bring her back to life. She had gone forever and they had not even said goodbye. This terrible tragedy has left everyone who knew Phoebe absolutely heartbroken. The injustice of her life being cut short when she was so well and enjoying her new home is unbearable.

Her family experienced the full range of emotions at their loss - anger, guilt, misery, disbelief. Later that day they saw her for the last time to kiss her goodbye, to tell her that they loved her very much and to wish her peace on her journey to the unknown where one day we must all travel. They comfort themselves that they were privileged to spend time with such a wonderful creature as Phoebe and to share her life for that last year. Thankfully they were able to give her some of the happiness and comfort which should have always been hers - but was not there for most of her 13 years.

She was a loyal loving delightful girl, so grateful for everything that was done for her. Her eyes spoke her words of gratitude. Her special companion Danny misses her dreadfully and cannot understand where she has gone. He is another gentle greyhound who had become very close to Phoebe after they were both rescued at the same time.

The legacy, which Phoebe left behind, is that of a loving home for yet another sad, ill-treated and unloved greyhound. These dogs have so much to give and ask so little in return. Phoebe was one of the lucky ones. She at least found love at the end. So many others never experience a kind word, a reassuring pat or even a little comfort when they need it. They are often treated with indifference, ignorance or outright cruelty from their human masters. They deserve better from a species that regards itself as superior to the rest of the animal kingdom.