Category Archives: Whippet
Since I have been working only half days three days a week I decided those afternoons I am off would be a great time to walk the dogs. My only issue is sometimes it is difficult to control three forty pound Whippets and two ten pound Italian Greyhounds at the same time. (I know – I should do them all in one day – but they get plenty of exercise if they are outside for thirty minutes to an hour.) There is only one problem with doing them one at a time; the other five like to protest. At least I don’t have to listen to it until I return.
Yesterday was Bilee’s turn.
He isn’t the heaviest, but he is a fast walker which means I am constantly pulling him back. Not to mention he is a little dense at times – lights on, no one is home. He was very excited to take his walk and eventually calmed down so I could put his leash on him and we started out – to the discontent of the rest of the pack. I began with an iPod, my smartphone (measuring the distance), an empty poop bag and clean hands. Because he is very hyper he was bouncing around and I lost the bag. Of course I didn’t realize this until he decided to take a dump on the sidewalk. I continued on, no bag and a dog that kept wanting to run after every noise. As I hit the mile mark of the journey I saw a coupon bag in the middle of the street.
‘This would do well enough.’ I thought. Most dog owners would not worry about their dog dropping a load in the middle of someone’s sidewalk – but I do. My normal route would wrap me back the way I came so I would be able to pick it up.
A few minutes later, my phone rings, an unlisted number. It is the cardiologist that was working on my mom over the weekend and they were calling to make a follow up appointment. They claimed they didn’t have her phone number but I know they did. It is hard enough to read that screen so I told them I would call them back in about twenty minutes but I needed their number. I suddenly got the bright idea of sending a text to my mom, but first I had to get to the application. This is something I don’t normally do but I managed, throwing Bilee’s leash on the ground and stepping on it so he would not run away and I could use both hands while I held on to the empty bag. Finally I manage to send the text message to mom with the phone number, name and people that are calling me telling her to call them as I was talking to the lady that called me. (It is very difficult to see that screen in the daylight). Before I finished, Bilee saw something a lot more interesting them watching me play with my phone and he started to take off. He almost got away, but I grabbed the leash in time yet I dropped the bag. A cold gust of wind grabbed it before I could and the bag disappeared.
I continue on – getting more pissed at this dog every minute. He is the only one that cannot just walk and ignore everything else. He is also the only one that takes a dump during the walk.
I saw visions of me getting home, grabbing a bag and driving to the spot where Bilee left the present. Then I smiled, there in the middle of the sidewalk – another bag! This one is smaller and cheaper than the last one. I continue on…find the poop and manage to pick it up as Billie is trying to get away to catch a tree bunny, again. I’m not laughing as my fingers break through the bag and I now have Billie’s little present all over my hands. Then my mom texts me, “What’s the rush, I’ll get to it!” So now I have to call her, as I am juggling a bag of poop, a dog and earphones that just do not want to stay in my ear on this windy day. I try to explain the situation to her – but with the wind blowing harder she can’t hear me so I end up raising my voice and now I am yelling at her.
I think Bilee either got worn out or knew I was having a bad walk because for the next few minutes – until we got home – he walked slower, head and eyes straight ahead and ears flat against his head.
I don’t think I will be taking him for a walk next week.
Today – I’m taking a twelve pound Iggy (Italian Greyhound).
I met my wife a little over 9 years ago. She told me she had a couple of dogs. I think it was a little bit more than a couple. The first day I actually visited her house I rang the doorbell to the sound of what I thought were an army of dogs.
I didn’t meet them right away, we watched some DVD’s on her ex-husbands big screen TV with his super expensive DVD player. Then I met the dogs: one very calm and polite Airedale, two watchful Komondors, one male, and one female about 5 years old, their showing days over, they were now retired. She also had one Komondor that was about two years old, her showing days had just begun.
About a week after she tossed her ex to the curb, the older Komondors decided to have a little unauthorized fun. The heavy breathing woke her up, but she didn’t want to deal with it. I don’t blame her. The outcome was nine puppies. Yes, she had a total of 13 dogs!
My mind was saying “Run!” My heart wasn’t. I stayed, married her eventually. Attended her dog shows for a while and a little ways down the road of life; we managed to sell off or give away the nine puppies and the youngest of the pack. We were left with three. Now three dogs I can handle!
Soon after we settled down and stopped showing, a cat followed the daughter home (yeah, right!). We decide to keep it, even if the Airedale was known for catching cats, it stayed in her room.
A couple years down the road, the Airedale died of cancer, a very sad time for all; she was a Champion and always well behaved. We were now happy with two, it was easy – except for when the female went into heat and we had to separate them. She could have taken care of that, but both dogs were approaching old age now. She didn’t want to risk it.
Four years ago, the female started slowing down, and we decided to get one more dog. I choose this time, a Whippet. Known for their speed and prey drive these dogs were awesome racers, and that is a main reason why we got them. I wanted to race them.
( Meeme, Razzie, Billie)
Now we had three Whippets, one cat, and two Komondors. When the female Kom began to pass, we helped her along, it was a hard decision, but it was time. She went quietly – just the sobs of the family ringing through the Vets office.
About a month later, she was ready to get another one. Maybe a little one this time, a lap dog that she could cuddle up with when I worked second or third shift. After some research, and a lot of looking, she found a breeder of Italian Greyhounds. We went there one night to buy one. We walked away with two – a brother and sister.
The male Komondor, Bully, is still with us, he is getting old, 77 in human years, and has a little trouble standing and going up the steps and holding his bladder – but he is happy, even when the Iggies pay a little too much attention to him. All three whippets are getting along fine, except when the female is in season. I hope this is the last year that we have to separate them when they go outside, it is a pain.
Our ferret count totaled out at 7 eventually and the daughter added 2 rats to her collection. The rats and cat still share the same room – the rats in a cage where the cat just stares at them. The ferrets were old when we first got them, now there are three left. A young one she adopted off of a friend that didn’t want it and two old ones. They are hanging in there.
The dominate Whippet male, Billie, has picked up a good habit from the ancient Komondor – he is our guard whippet and will bark every time the bell rings, even if it is the TV. We don’t race them as much as we use to, only because they seem to be out of state and further than we can afford to travel – but they get their exercise.
Me? Well I am a survivor – between letting them outside a few times a day, we manage to keep the messes down. They behave for the most part. Besides feeling like the underpaid kennel help sometimes, life isn’t too bad.
Razzie is wearing number 5
Billie is right beside him in blue