Please read thoughtfully and sign if you’re in the UK, and share it with people you know who are in the UK. And thank you!
UK Petition To Regulate Greyhound Breeding & Racing
Please read thoughtfully and sign if you’re in the UK, and share it with people you know who are in the UK. And thank you!
Scottie's Playtime 
Hi Ali. I am again glad I saved this post. See when Ron met me I had bought a new very nice mobile home from the factory and had it put in a park that was on a hill over the greyhound racing track below. We could hear the dog races if we went outside and down the road a bit to the power lines which look down over the racetrack. Two weeks after Ron moved in with me he brought a dog into “our” home. It was his beloved rescued ex-racer greyhound. She was his emotional support in his chaotic life. He totally adored her. He belonged to a greyhound rescue group.
I agreed she could stay even though the park did not let new people have dogs. The dog was so interesting to me, she could do something no human could. I was struggling with PTSD from my abuse and Ron had to be careful moving in the house during the day as I worked nights and sounds of his movements would cause me to wake in panic. If he entered the bedroom thinking I was asleep I reacted violently by rising in the bed ready to fight. It was why he understood and knew I was abused without me from ever telling him before I did. But that large dog could crawl up on the bed and laydown with her head on my pillow without waking me in any way. I would wake up to open my eyes and see her big brown eyes looking back or her mussel next to my cheek.
I have a way with animals and the dog and I quickly bonded. So about two weeks after her coming into our home Ron asked to borrow my new pickup. He owned / ran a gay bar in a town next to ours and in the late 1980s he constantly fought bigotry and hate. But one of their keg delivers had refused to deliver due to hateful pressure. He asked to take my pickup during the morning to go get kegs of beer. I worked nights so did not care, but it has snowed lightly the night before.
Some time near noon I woke hearing sounds outside the hallway door next to my bedroom. The dog was again sharing my bed. I heard someone try the door nob and try to pull the door open. I took my gun from its safe space, loaded it, and holding it down at my leg level ready to use walked the few steps to the door, moved the curtain on the small window slowly and seen it was Ron fiddling with the door. I put the safety back on the gun and tried to relax. I had just left the army a year or so ago and the last year in the military been involved in things which cased me to be shot at. I described one of them on one of my blogs before.
I opened the door and looked at Ron asking him what he was doing. I don’t know if he noticed I was holding my gun or not, he never said. He said he had forgotten his keys, something in all the 35 years we have lived together I have learned is normal for him.
I went into the bedroom and secured the gun, making sure it was unloaded with nothing in the chamber. He watched from the bedroom door. I looked at him and started getting back into bed, when he burst out again with his eyes leaking. “Please don’t make me get rid of my dog, please please Scottie”. I turned and asked “What the hell did you do to my truck”!
He had made a total rookie mistake of someone not used to have a pickup. The bed had a dusting of snow and he put the full sized kegs on the rear of the truck bed next to the tailgate (because he said they would be easier to offload) and wrapped a single bungee cord through their tops to secure them to the bed wall. Driving through town the light turned red and he hit the brakes… and you can imagine what happened. The bungee did not hold, the kegs raced forward with all that momentum on a slippery surface and slammed in the forward bed wall, broke through it, and slammed into the cab. They did not break through but almost did, they went deep in to the cab. It wouldn’t be the last time he damaged my truck.
I looked at him and said are you hurt? He shook his head no. I turned to the bed and started getting under the covers and said, “The dog can stay, you get the hell out”! He went pale. I looked at him and said come here Ron. I reached out my hand and he belatedly took it. I told him the damn truck could be fixed, as long as he was OK I was happy. That he was far more valuable than the truck. I also told him I would fight to keep both him and the dog. I then reminded him I had to work that night and would need to try to get part of my pillow back.
I think that was the morning he decided to stay with me. The dog was a large part of our life until she died the first Thanksgiving we were in Florida. She always waited outside the place we ate and after we were done she got a plate of food. She went to bed with us and in the morning had a heart attack and died. The vet said even if she had been in the office they couldn’t have saved her. Ron sobbed in bed for three days the most hurt I had ever seen him. As for the truck we kept it for 16 years and by the time I let it go it had a lot more bangs, dents, and marks on it. I simply did not worry about that. I could and did replace it, I couldn’t replace Ron. Thanks again for the post. Hugs
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That’s a good dog story! I’m sorry for yours and Ron’s loss of her, though they don’t live as long as we do. But that’s a nice story.
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Hi Ali. Thank you. I have a lot of wonderful stories of animals from the barnyard ones to the house pets. It is a gift / blessing I have had in my life. It is why house family furry members tend to bond to me. Ron is watching the new rescue inside / outside cat who is spending a lot more time inside bond with me. Ron calls me a cat whisperer. You have given me the idea of stories I can write about. Hugs
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