While on the deck, deciding cold leftovers win, a couple of houndies wanted out. My rule, strictly enforced, is 2 minutes. Do your business or get in the house.
As anyone who knows me knows, I lost my side-kick of 15 years. My forever companion. The heat contributed, after 5 minutes out, and while at vet, recovering perfectly from temps last year, his heart gave out. It was too much.
So, as I stand on the deck and let my pups out, I melt in the heat. And I think about what it must have been like to race in this deadly heat. 2 minutes are up and come inside now.
But while I am on that deck, I rage. I admit it. Good, bad or ugly, I rage. At all of the thoughtless humans who subject dogs to needless suffering.
I rage at me, because a 15 year old dog wanted to potty.
But I rage at the racing industry. In what context does racing greyhounds ever, EVER, in this heat speak humane? My dogs raced in FL and IA. Neither of which are cool climates.
It’s cruel and heartless to even expect these dogs to run so a few can make payment on beer. I won’t even go into the inherent dangers of racing for delicate dogs.
To the idiot (was it Tom Taylor of TGP or another lame fool, I don’t recall), who walked a track in the heat and claimed it comfortable. Lose about 75 to 100 pounds and run for your life and for someone’s bank account.
Yes, I do rage. Poor hapless souls, born into oblivion.
I’ll never understand that mentality. Cool towels in the fridge, yogurt treats in the freezer, 2 minutes out for “business”.
Race? Total crap.