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Greyhound Farley is the Culprit! 2010/06/30

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Farley: Who me?

Mom returns from beading to see chewed files scattered around the living room floor. The sheet that covers my couch was on the floor. Mom’s comforter was in the hallway close to the kitchen. Although the files were covered with a towel, someone had nosed his/her way into the pile and selected those to be trashed. No investigation was necessary.

Mom knows that I’m with the program. If something is covered, I leave it alone. After trying to drag Mom’s bed pillows through the doggie door when I first moved in, I learned quickly that this was unacceptable.

However, Anabel is one curious greyhound and, if something is covered, she wants to see what’s underneath. I knew females were trouble.

Our house guest, Farley, is equally nosy, but Mom didn’t know about this until today. So Anabel got the brunt of Mom’s wrath and was placed on probation for two weeks, whatever that means…

Today, while responding to emails, Mom could hear that one of us was playing in the living room. Me and Anabel were curled up on our beds in the computer area, so that left Farley. Moving into the living room, Mom saw that Farley had dragged my couch sheet and her Snuggy onto the floor, and was busy chewing on one of her socks that he’d snagged from her tennis shoe. Anabel looked rather smug when Mom apologized to her and reduced her probation period to one week and told Farley that she would report him to his primary foster Mom when she returns from vacation. The boy was not pleased.

I sat back and relished my position as top greyhound with no probation.

Beamer is off the hook

While I may have contributed to the file shredding game, I certainly did not initiate it, ‘cos I know better. But once those files hit the floor and paper spilled out, what’s a greyhound to do? What comes naturally of course – shred, chew and fling. Life is good!

Greyhound Beamer meets Greyhound Anabel 2010/04/02

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Soon to be the boss of Beamer

“And you are?”

“I’m Annie, who are you?”

“I’m Beamer and the top dog around here.”


“What do you mean Mm?”

“I was told Ice was numero uno.”

“Who told you that?”

“My new Mom.”

“Don’t you mean your foster Mom?”

“No, I mean my new Mom.”

“O.K. let me get this straight. Are you telling me

that you are moving in here permanently?”

“If all goes well, Yep, that’s what I’m telling you.”

“Mm, so you’re on a trial period, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, let me give you the ground rules.

I’m the only one allowed on the couch.

The bed next to Mom’s computer is mine.

The bed to the right of Mom’s bed is mine.

All current toys are mine.

The back of the CRV is mine.

Me alone curls up on the bathroom mat next

to the bath tub when Mom is taking a shower.”

“You know, you’re very territorial.”

“I was here first.”

“Yes, but I was hoping you and I could become

buddies and play together and go on walks

together, and share toys. Mom told me you

are a great dog and thought you

and I would hit it off. I really don’t want to go

back to the kennel. It felt like being in prison

and I’ve been in a sort of prison, just like you,

when I was chasing that damned thing around

the track. I really like Mom and I know she will

take good care of me, but if you don’t like me,

she’ll return me to the kennel.[Sniff Sniff]”

“OMG – don’t cry, I just can’t handle tears.”

“Well, you’re not making me feel welcome. I

just want a home where I will be loved and I

thought this was my chance. [Sniff Sniff}”

“Well, all right, I don’t want you to go back to the kennel.

You’re very cute and you smell good. Just

respect the fact that I was here first and have


“Does that mean you will share the toys?”

“Yes, I will share the toys.”

“Will you share the doggie beds?”

“Yes, I will share the doggie beds”

“Will you let me share the back of the

CRV occasionally?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Will you let me into the bathroom when

Mom is taking a shower just to check to

see where she is?”

“Yes, but forget sharing the bath mat.”

“O.K. what about the couch.”

“This is non-negotiable.”

“Mm, we’ll see.”

“GRRR – females!”

Greyhound – Small Dog Friendly with MimZy 2010/02/26

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MimZy the guard dog

Ssh – don’t tell Beamer that I’m using his blog. You know how territorial he is.

I’m MimZy. I’m a cute, smart terrier mix and my Mom and Dad are adopters: Beading Diva Cynthia and Daddy Wade.

Mom and Dad had to go out of town on business last Monday, so I went to Aunt Diva Roja’s crib for a small vacation. I’ve been there before so I knew the routine and was familiar with the fur inmates: Beamer the greyhound and Ice the American Eskimo.

But then I heard that Aunt Roja was visiting her friend, Connie, in Phoenix and I was invited. WOO HOO – I’m always ready for an adventure. So on Thursday morning we set off for Phoenix.

Upon arrival I’m met by four pooches: two are siblings of Ice, one is a a long-haired dachsund and the other a black Pomeranian. We performed the usual greeting ritual and all was well. Connie has a lawn in her back yard and I had loads of fun sniffing, peeing, and kicking up my back legs after I’d made several deposits. I think you get my drift.

Connie and Aunt Roja went out for dinner and the lead female Alpha, Jasmine, subtly asserted her dominance, and I fell in line. What the heck, I’m just visiting. Connie and Aunt Roja returned and we all settled in to watch the Olympics. I was snuggled next to Aunt Roja on the couch with Ice when suddenly the front door opened and in came this guy. WOW.

Who is he and what is he doing here? I think it’s time that this interloper knows that, while small, I can be pretty ferocious, so I growled incessantly. Kept him away from the couch, but couldn’t vanquish him from the crib.

But I kept growling. Aunt Roja was trying to calm me down. She just didn’t get it. My job is to look out for my caretakers, and this interloper was infringing on my territory with Aunt Roja and my new Aunt Connie. Aunt Roja told me that Don was not an interloper but the person that paid the bills for this crib and he lived here. Oh yea. So why wasn’t he here when I arrived? Why did he sneak in at 7:00 p.m. when the rest of us were comfy and cosy watching the Olympics? There was some jabber about him working – yea, yea, yea. My doggie brain could not wrap my paws around this, but the guy stayed in the background, eat his dinner and then withdrew to the master bedroom to watch T.V.

Just as well because I was ready to rip his pants a new one. I still think he was a burglar casing the joint and he had Aunt Connie wrapped around his pinky. But what do I know, I’m a dog.

Hey, who said you could post a message on my blog?

Hi Beams – your Mama!

P.S. MimZy was adopted through Cold Wet Noses.

Greyhound – Marching Orders? 2010/01/19

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Where's Beamer's couch?

I think I’m on my way out. Perhaps she’s still mad at me for nipping Turbo. But I’m a potato without a couch!

This morning, after my morning walk and breakfast, I’m contentedly snoozing on my couch, limbs twitching with ecstacy as I dream of romping with greyhound friends that have crossed over the rainbow bridge in a meadow far, far away.

The door bell rings. Of course, I leap up to investigate. Three elderly bruisers enter the home. Following Mom’s directions, they hoist the couch and carry it out the front door. Not so much as a ‘May I?” from these guys or from Mom. Now what’s a boy to think?

Is Mom sending me a message that she doesn’t love me any more? Is she telling me that some cute female is going to replace me? If so, perhaps I should file a discrimination charge with the Attorney General’s Office based on gender, or file a grievance with Arizona Greyhound Rescue? After all, I have some rights, don’t I? I’m not going to take this ‘roaching’ down. I’m going to protest.

I emailed my buddy Alyse, down the street, and she and I are going to ask Marlene, Alyse’s Mom, to intervene and talk to my Mom.

I’ve been a faithful companion to Mom. Yes, I do get in the trash. Yes, I am territorial and try to intimidate any dog that comes here temporarily, letting them know which beds are mine and which beds are available to them. No, I’ve never chewed or anointed anything in the home. I’m a very clean pooch and learned the doggie door the first night I moved in. No, I don’t jump on visitors – well, not very often, and I don’t get on Mom’s bed. I think I’ve been pretty patient over the two years I’ve lived here considering the numerous foster dogs that I’ve had to train. So why am I losing my favorite bed?

I think Mom is going to trade me in for a younger model. Yes, I’ve heard about human males trading their wives for a younger version, but trading a pooch – this is absolutely unheard of – don’t you agree? Mom’s love their dogs, sometimes, more than their husbands, and dogs usually rate #1. Why am I an exception?

I’m really out of sorts today. Keep roaming around, trying to find something comfy to snooze on, but my favorite is gone, vanished, no longer available to me.

Please contact my Mom and tell her that I’m worth keeping. I love my Mom and I’m very comfortable in my home and our daily routine. But I’m feeling rejected and one very sad greyhound. I’m waiting for a pink slip but dreading its arrival. Where would I go? I don’t want to leave. H E L P!

Dear Readers: I have purchased a new three-seater couch that will arrive on January 21. I adore my Beamer and he will not receive a pink slip. But he will be thrilled when the new couch arrives. It is big enough for Beams and I to snuggle while we watch T.V. or I’m reading. I’ve tried to explain this to him, but he’s a dog. All he knows is that his couch is gone and, temporarily, he’s not a couch potato.

P.S. You can help local retired racing greyhounds find forever homes by buying bracelets this month (Jan 2010).

Greyhound Reclaims his MOM 2010/01/06

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After two years of sharing my Mom with a continuous flow of rescued racing greyhounds, finally, she’s mine, all mine. Our last foster dog, Turbo, found his forever home in November 2009.

I was a bad pooch. I nipped Turbo pretty good and WOW was I chastised. Checking Turbo’s wound, Mom was nipped by Turbo on the left eyebrow. We’re talking deep purple and black. It took over a month for the bruise to disappear and Mom reminded me frequently that her disfiguerment was my fault and I was a brat. Turbo had to go to the vet and get a couple of stitches, so I was in the toilet – so to speak – for a long time.

So here’s my defense. I knew that Turbo was looking to connect and he’d decided that my Mom was going to be his Mom. I think not. As I told him, you’re here temporarily, so remember I’m the Alpha around here. This guy had the nerve to sit on the doggie bed close to Mom’s computer. That’s my bed. Well, actually, it’s Ice’s bed, but I can intimidate Ice to get off the bed and move to another one. Hey, sorry, intimidation is part of my charming personality. But Ice knows how to get Mom’s attention, so now that bed is closely monitored. No more am I allowed to intimidate Ice to move – I’m given an alternate bed – I guess I can live with that especially when Mom’s attention is elsewhere and I can ‘do my thing’ with Ice. Not sure how long I’m going to get away with this because Ice is getting pretty feisty and tried to nip me the other day. He may be small, but he has a courageous heart and I know Mom would back him up – after all, he’s the first born around here.

But I’m happy that Mom can now spend more time with me. We walk our customary two miles a day in the mornings and she plays throw and catch with me in the afternoons. I’ve got new toys to toss, and I get more scratches behind the ears.So I’m one happy camper.

We took a hike in the Catalina Mountains last Sunday, and it was glorious. New smells, lots of dogs to greet, and a couple of horses. Boy, I don’t think I will try to nip or intimidate those guys – I’m out tonnaged – but they couldn’t get through my doggie door, so I’m safe, Mom will not be bringing these guys home to foster!

Greyhound dealing with foster fur kids 2009/09/07

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What a summer!

June 2009: Boone moved in as a foster. Mom said she sensed that he was depressed at the kennel and he needed to go into a home. I liked Boone. Although he was a little quirky at first, he would run with me at the doggie park and we had a good time. After only a couple of days, Boone was no longer depressed and adjusted to home living very quickly. The guy was smart. Nailed that doggie door the first night. Never soiled the home nor did he chew on anything but a Nylabone. Mom was elated. After a couple of weeks, on his schedule, Boone would approach Mom for cuddles and kisses. Boone learned early on that I was the alpha dog when it comes to greyhounds and he was quite content to be numero dos. One smart hound. Four is a nice number: me, Ice, Daisie Mae and Boone. This was definitely doable.

Later that month, Boone’s sister, Izzy, moved in after her spay surgery, supposedly for a couple of days. Mom is such a mushball. She could not face returning Izzy to the kennel after her surgery because Izzy suffered with allergies and needed some special care. Now we’re up to 5.Training a female greyhound that I was the alpha is quite a challenge. She constantly ran to Mom with complaints about me being a dominant male. She was one cheeky female, but Mom mediated situations that arose, so we learned to live together amicably. Actually, Izzy turned out to be a good roommmate. She would let me chase her at the doggie park, and was not intimidated by my enthusiasm. Izzy stayed with us until a long-term foster guardian was available, and then she moved on.

July 2009: Boone found a fabulous permanent home so now we’re back to 3. This I liked. Sadly, Daisie Mae passed over the rainbow bridge shortly thereafter. She was a sweet dog, age 15, and had a good life with Mom, but Mom was a mess for three days. Crying jags and extra cuddles for me and Ice. I felt bad for her so gave her extra kisses, did not goose anyone that visited the house, and did not invade the trash conainer – this was a tough one because, Oh boy, do I love to check out the trash.

While I was happily adjusting to life in a smaller pack, in the middle of July, I’m suddenly introduced to Shadow and Nina: two terrier mix dogs that weigh no more than 21 lbs. How on earth does an 80 lb. grey play with these ankle biters? Mom explained that their stay was temporary while her girlfriend’s daughter was recovering from a severe vehicle accident. Shadow and Nina are what Mom calls Mr. & Mrs. They are seldom apart and Shadow will growl if another dog gets too close to Nina. However, his protective instinct has quelled over time as he realized that neither Ice nor I intended to hurt Nina. Shadow is one savvy pooch. He learned very quickly that Mom’s chaise – which is available to no one but her – was very comfortable, so it didn’t take long before he took ownership of this furniture when Mom was not around. So now we’re back to 4.

In late July, Alyse moves in while Marlene, her owner, goes on vacation for three weeks. Alyse and I hit it off immediately. She loves to run at the doggie park and I love to chase, so we were a great team. Now wer’re back to 5. One week later, I’m introduced to Apollo – a pomeranian pooch – and roommate of Alyse – that arrived along with his kennel. Mom said Apollo is alone for too long each day, so he’s moving in for a couple of weeks. Now we’re at 6! The kennel was tossed and Apollo mingled with the rest of us. While he had a reputation of using the home as his private bathroom, he only did this once while with us. It was funny to see me, Ice, Shadow and Nina charge through the doggie door with Apollo following. However, his little legs and small stature did not allow him to jump through the doggie door so Mom had to hoist him through. This worked, and he enjoyed time outside in the cool early morning and evenig hours. Never tried to play with this fluff ball – just thoroughly sniffed him and left him alone.

August 2009: Alyse and Apollo returned home and we’re back to 4. Or so I thought, but I was wrong. In late August, MimZy, a small terrier mix, came to stay for a week while her Mom, Cynthia, went on vacation. Now we’re 5. My God, will this never end? I live in a doggie motel. MimZy turned out to be a very sweet dog that schmoozed Mom and began sleeping on her bed and her chaise – and Mom allowed it! Ice didn’t care as long as MimZy did not sleep on his section of Mom’s bed, and I have commandeered Mom’s couch, so I guess that’s fair.

It’s now September 209. MimZy has gone home and we’re back to 4. But for how long, who knows. What a summer.



Greyhound Revolt 2009/09/02

Posted by beamergreyhound in Beamers Couch.

Calling on all greyhounds under 6 years of age. This is a revolution by fur kids against Moms who buy us orthopedic beds, implying that we’re old. I’m outraged. Here’s what happened.

Mom left for a dental appointment and various and sundry shopping chores around 10:00 a.m. this morning – September 3 2009. Around 2:15 p.m., and I might add, one hour late for my second meal, she breezes in the door, all smiles, carrying this large square-shaped doggie bed. “Beamer, this is your new bed.” Mm, a new bed? We have at least eight doggie beds in the house, why do I need a new one . The two I sleep on are very satisfactory, thank you very much. Mom picks up my two favorite doggie beds and replaces them with this ‘thing.’ Never asked me what I felt or thought, just dumped the ‘thing’ in my space alongside her bed. Well I fixed her plan. I plopped down on the doggie bed on the other side of her bed. At least it smelled familiar, though Ice, my doggie roommate was not pleased.

“Hey, that’s my bed.”

A little doggie negotiation was in order.

“Look Ice, you usually sleep with Mom on her bed, so I’m really not infringing on your turf, don’t you agree?”
“No, this bed is my back-up and I want you off and I want you off now.”
“And you’re gonna make me move? Please, I weigh 80 lbs and you weigh 32 lbs.”
“I may be smaller than you, but I’m pretty feisty when you really piss me off. You’re all bark and no action. I’m not so much bark, but plenty action, so  move it.”
“I’ll tell Mom.”
“She already knows and she’s done nothing.”
“How wrong you are. Check out your side of her bed.”
“Oh, please, she’s put one of my beds on top of this intruder bed thinking I won’t know the difference. GET A GRIP.  I have great eyesight and better than nomral smell abillity, and I refuse to sleep on a bed that states it’s an orthoedic bed for older greyhounds. How insulting.”
“How did you know it was an orthpedic bed?”
“I looked over her shoulder when she was emailing people on how thrilled she was to find this bed. As far as I’m concerned, she can sleep on the damned thing and I’ll sleep on her bed.”
“This will never happen. I’m the only dog allowed on her bed, and I will make sure this routine stays in place. Don’t challenge me Beamer, ‘cos I’ll bust your chops and hurt you.”

I have to think about this. Although I’m much larger than Ice, he can get pretty aggressive if he feels he’s being pushed around and frankly, I’m not sure I could win the battle. Sure, I would injure the little guy, but the little guy could also injure me.  I’m not into pain, and Mom doesn’t need any vet bills, so I’m still strategizing on how to handle this situation.

So, Mom is working on the computer. I’m laying on Ice’s back-up bed watching Mom and wondering how is she going to resolve this protest. I know she’s aware of my disdain, but she is trying to ignore it, thinking that, come bed time, I will comply and sleep on this geriatric bed. Not gonna happen.

Greyhounds unite. Back me up here. Do you think I should sleep on the orthopedic bed covered with one of my favorite doggie beds, or should I continue my protest and sleep on Ice’s back-up bed knowing that he’s one feisty pooch and will not back down when his ire is up?

Place your bets as to who wins this war! Will Ice back down? Will Mom flex her Alpha authority and remove all beds but the ‘thing’ and force me to sleep on this thing?  If you were my Mom, what would you do? H E L P!


Accepting Blondie 2009/05/18

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It was Blondie’s time to go into foster care until the right adopter came along. Still wobbly from the anesthetic after being spayed, Blondie zig zagged from the vet’s office to my car. A quick hoist, and she was settled in the back of the car and we headed for home.

I pulled into the garage and immediately heard barking coming from the house. How nice, they are anxious to meet their new friend. After all, I’ve been telling them about their new roommate for a couple of days. Hardly, they are ready for dinner and letting me know that I’m late. I opened the door to the kitchen and my three burst into the garage and performed the usual routine of chasing each other around the car a few times before thrusting their bodies against mine demanding attention, and I obliged.

The back windows in the car were down and my greyhound, Beamer, was the first to spot the pretty blond grey in the back of the car. Beamer’s paws hit the side of the car and linked noses with Blondie. I could tell from Beamer’s tail whipping back and forth that he was delighted.

Once my three settled down, I opened the back of the car, lifted Blondie onto the ground and guided her into the house and straight through the doggie door, with three fur balls following behind. 

This is what I think I heard: 

Beamer:         Hey, it’s a greyhound and a girl – way to go Mom. 

Ice:                  Oh my God, another dog that I have to train that I’m the boss around here. 

Daisie:            I hope she’s not bossy, you know how I hate that. Do we live in a doggie motel? One goes out the front door and another arrives through the garage.

 Beamer:         Quit whining you two. It’s a greyhound and that’s all that matters to me. 

Daisie:            Good, now you can stop nipping my neck and nip hers – and I hope she lets you have it – you’re such a pest when you do that.

 Blondie:          The goof ball greyhound is already an ally. My gentle nature will appeal to Daisie, and my charming personality and good looks will let Ice think he’s in charge. All I have to do is schmooze the Mom so that I can ascend to my natural throne of princess. This is such an easy gig. Female greys rule!  

Mom:              I’m hooked.

I’m Beamer, the greyhound 2009/05/17

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I’m a gorgeous brindle boy called Beamer. I spout my Roo from my own couch.  I have stories to tell about all the foster greyhounds Mom has brought home and I’ve had to train, with no extra treats for me. There should be a greyhound union.   Stay tuned for the inside scoop on how we greyhounds talk to each other – yes, we talk, but you have to be atuned to the ancient languge of ROO to get it – so stay tuned!

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