Coal’s story goes back to 1989, when, after the death of my old dog and a period of saying “never again”, a small ad in our local paper appealing for homes for retired racing greyhounds caught my eye. I mulled it over and dismissed the idea. The ad was there again the following week. The third week I gave them a call, had a long talk to the lovely man who ran the rescue and offered to take a dog. Our homecheck was quickly done and was all approved, and we were all set to choose our new friend. I was so excited!
I wanted a youngish bitch, and had a picture in my head of a pretty little brindle girl, I even had a name lined up for her. I looked over the list the rescue had given me of dogs currently looking for homes, and there she was – a four year old brindle lass, described as affectionate, friendly and playful. That was the one for me! We arranged to go to the kennels the following weekend to meet her, and hopefully to bring her home with us.
She was lovely – a sweet, bouncy girl who wanted to cover everybody with kisses, exactly as I had pictured her. I had no hesitatation in saying we would take her and was absolutely over the moon. Before we left we were offered a look round the kennels and a chance to visit the shop to pick up some bits for our new babe.
On the way round I noticed a kennel that appeared to be empty. When I looked again I could just see a dark shape, pressed against the farthest wall. Our guide saw me looking “I’m not surprised you chose the little brindle girl, he said “we can always find homes for the smaller, pretty bitches. Now this poor old boy – he motioned to the shape in the kennel “has everything against him. He’s eight years old, he’s male, he’s big even for a greyhound, he’s black (nobody wants the black dogs) and he’s so nervous with strangers he’ll never even come close enough to be seen. He’s been here for two years now, and I doubt he’ll ever find a home.
I looked into the kennel again, and crouched down and held out a treat. Slowly, very slowly, the dog raised his head and looked at me. I stayed very still and looked down rather than stare in his eyes as he got to his feet and cautiously came over and sniffed my hand, looking ready to jump out of his skin if I moved. I looked at David and could see he was thinking the same thing – we couldn’t leave him there with no hope. “We’ll take this one – the words were out before I had chance to think about it.
I did have a pang when I saw ‘my’ lovely little brindle lass being led back to her kennel, but I knew she wouldn’t be waiting long for a home.
Out of his kennel the (huge!) black dog seemed a bit calmer, though still nervous, especially with David. However when we opened up the car he jumped in and settled down like he’d just been waiting for his transport to arrive. The kennels staff were so pleased to see him finally go home after so long they all came out so see him off, and as we drove away I could see them doing a sort of war-dance around the paddock! We decided on the way home we would call him ‘Coal’.
Although Coal had never lived in a house he took to it luck a duck to water. He soon became much more confident, though he was always wary of strangers, particularly men, and would disappear into his own corner when visitors came. With David and I, though, he was the most affectionate, sweet natured and trusting dog you could imagine. He loved his home comforts, his walks, his cuddles and gradually even learned to play with toys – it was as though he was making up for the puppyhood he never had.
Just about a year after we got him I discovered (long after having ‘given up’ on ever having a family) that I was pregnant. I was very concerned about Coal – how would he react to the noise and the disruption to his quiet, safe routine? I needn’t have worried. From the day our eldest daughter arrived he seemed to know she was part of his family. He treated her with gentle curiosity and once she reached the crawling stage he appointed himself as her ‘minder’ and was never far from her keeping a careful eye on her progress.
After only three years with us and at just 11 years old Coal started to have periodic stomach upsets, and his health was obviously deteriorating. Various treatments made no difference and eventually the vet decided that an exploratory operation was needed to find out what was going on. I dropped him off that morning and went to work feeling quite optimistic that we would, at last, get to the bottom of his problems. I was completely unprepared for the call a couple of hours later to say that he had a massive tumour affecting his stomach, lungs and heart. He could only have days to live, and the vet suggested that the kindest thing would be to let him go quietly without bringing him round from the anaesthetic. I had to agree, but will always regret that I never had chance to say a proper goodbye to our beautiful, gentle boy. In fact, even so many years later, I find the keyboard blurring as I type this bit!
I am so grateful chance took a hand and we ended up bringing Coal into our lives. That sad dog at the back of the kennel, written off as ‘too old’ to ever be homed, gave us so much joy – seeing him develop into a happy, playful dog was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. He started me on a love affair with greyhounds which carries on to this day and has left me with a real soft spot for the older dogs who so often get passed over in kennels and yet have so much to offer.
Fiona (Oldies Club Member)
Could you help a dog like Coal?
Betty and Goldie are two greyhounds desperately in need of retirement homes. Could you help?