Josh R.I.P.

My heart is breaking.

We chose Josh from the GAP website and collected him seven years ago, almost to the day. He was already five years old and had had several homes due to no fault of his own. Like all retired greyhounds who go through the GAP program he had spent time at the GAP centre for assessment, time with a foster person and then been adopted. However his adopted family suffered a tragedy and Josh ended up back at the GAP centre for re-homing. By the time he came to live with us he appeared to believe that it was for a limited period. We will never know if he thought that people didn't want him or that this is just how life is: a series of homes. So when he first arrived he was very subdued. Friendly but subdued.

My heart is breaking.

We knew that he felt at home and safe when he started to test the boundaries. We became firmer and set very clear boundaries and after another month or so, he settled down. He even seemed to like the boundaries. They told him where he was in the pack. His pack. His home.

My heart is breaking.

Like all retired greyhounds Josh was a couch potato. He could still run really fast and used to run laps round and round our back yard. He always ran the exact same route which eventually developed into a track with an especially deep groove at the bottom of the turning circuit round the Hills Hoist. At the top of the garden he would leap up onto the raised small lawn, stand there panting for a minute with a typical greyhound grin and then dash off again. Sometimes we wondered if he was expecting us to cheer each time he came up to the top because he looked so pleased with himself.
And then there were all his other little quirks and things that made him Josh. He would come down to hang up washing with me nudging me from behind to turn round and stroke his head. Hang up a piece, stroke Josh, hang up a piece, stroke Josh. If I tried to hang up several pieces I would feel a nudge from his nose as a reminder. He was the same with other family members who hung up washing.
And he loved to come inside, down in the den. As you walked back up the path he would race up ahead of you so that you let him in when you went back in. We made him wait and come in last to keep him at the bottom of the pack. He would bounce around waiting for his turn. If it was my youngest daughter he could be a bit cheeky and run in ahead of her. We always figured that he viewed her as a fellow cub on the same level as he was. The other time that he would run in, even if it was me holding the door open, was when it was thunder and lightening. The minute the door was open a black streak was flash past and Josh would arrive in the den panting with big open eyes. Once during a storm I went outside to get in the washing. Apparently Josh was beside himself, pacing up and down by the door, peering out waiting for me to return. When I got back inside he checked to see that I was okay before resuming his panting and drooling.

My heart is breaking.

He chased birds. He would launch across the garden at any bird that dared enter with a big deep bark. He rarely barked so this was always both a bit of a surprise and rather amusing. Having got rid of the bird he would stand watch in case it considered coming back. The only other time we really heard him barking we couldn't find him at first. We followed the noise to the bottom of the garden behind the fir tree to see a cat sitting calmly on the fence, swishing its tail whilst Josh was barking and barking. I gave the cat a bit of a shove and he jumped down the other side of the fence. Josh patrolled the back fence for ages, to make sure it didn't come back.

Most of all Josh liked being with us. It didn't matter to him if it was outside or inside, unless there was a risk of thunder and lightening. He was my companion when I gardened, when I hung up laundry, watered the lemon tree or just sat outside to enjoy the sunlight. He liked to be inside with us if we were all inside and would sit and whine outside the back door to be let in. He recognised the sound of the car being locked when we got home and would start to whine before I had the key in the front door. The video games are played in the den and he endured Wii tenis, battle of the bands and dancing. He kept a careful eye to make sure that feet didn't come too near and if it was near his bedtime he would sigh.

My heart is breaking.

Being an ex racing dog meant that his hips were damaged from a young age. The dogs are required to run round the track at an angle and if you are a winner like Josh apparently was, the four years of this type of running take their toll. He couldn't sit down but instead had to either stand or lie. He was on injections and powder for his hips because they were tight and sore. Sometimes he would catch them by landing badly when he jumped off the top grassy area or turned a corner badly. Once he hurt them so badly that he lay their whimpering until we could get him to the vet. Several years ago we noticed that he didn't run round the garden any more but he still chased birds and followed me with the laundry. He still raced up to the back door to get there first.
And then his hips got worse. He frequently limped, sometimes stumbled and recently stopped following me round the garden. And then his hips got worse. He sometimes struggled to get up at all, he often breathed as though he had been running when he hadn't and he needed pain killers more often.
And then this past week his hips got worse. He struggled to stand every time he got up and sometimes needed help, he stopped wanting to hunt his meaty cubes in the garden, he stopped wanting to do almost anything except lie on his big floor cushions with us. And this his front leg got bad, apparently from having to take the weight of his back legs and he developed a terrible limp.
We took him to the vet last week and they gave him several injections and a variety of pain killers and we took him home and things continued to deteriorate. He was still happy to be with us and we could get him to eat bits and pieces but walking was clearly very painful for him and he was becoming less and less keen to stand up at all.

Today we took him back to the vets and there was nothing more they could do. Twelve years is very old in rescue greyhound years and he had given it everything he had. We could have brought him home with more pain killers but it would have been for our benefit, not for his. So we made the most selfless decision we could: we stayed whilst he went to sleep, forever.

We have chosen the service that cremates him and gives us back his ashes to sprinkle on his favourite place. There are several holes that he dug and loved to enlarge and the flowerbed that he once dug up.

Our house and back yard seem very empty. There are memories of him everywhere, reminders because all his belongings are still scattered around the house and back yard and I find myself still listening out for his panting and loving expression and delight every time he sees me.

I know that it takes time, I have been here before. It took three months last time so I am giving myself plenty of time and I have given the family the freedom to have as much screen time as they want for a few days so that everyone can cope this first week in their own way.

A dog is loving, non-judgemental and a wonderful example of pure love, without asking for anything in return. He gave us plenty to celebrate and be thankful for, and what ever we gave him, he gave us back in spades.

Thank you Josh
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