Wings of an Angel

The day Vixen died was like any other day. Not the sort when you expect your 15 month old Border Collie to go downhill and pass in her sleep. There was no rhyme or reason to it. It happened so fast, no one knew how to react. That day, a piece of my brother's heart broke forever.

He had always wanted a collie, and Vixen was a gift from a friend. When she passed suddenly my brother asked, as we all do, what had gone wrong? He was heartbroken and lost, he missed having a canine companion. For a while he was in a dark place.

Getting another collie was not an option, he could not face it. Suggestions were made about other breeds, but none seemed quite right until we started to look at greyhounds. Greyhounds are not anything like a collie, of course, though they are clever, very clever, never doubt that. It was such a complete change that at first my brother could not contemplate it, then he warmed to the idea. Slowly, he began to think of himself with a greyhound.

He did not want a puppy. We were on the hunt for a rescue greyhound, an ex-racer needing a new home. Racing greyhounds have it rough, just running around those tracks can lead to terrible injuries, from torn ligaments and fractured legs, to broken backs. Many spend their days when not racing in concrete kennels, with little in the way of home comforts.

When their racing days are over (and most are finished before they are six) if they are not suitable breeding material they have to be disposed of. Some are lucky and get passed to a rescue organisation who finds them a home. Some are not and end up being shot, used as bait dogs or being sent to China for the dog meat market.

There are lots of ex-racers out there, but finding one that suited us proved harder than we had expected. We had an aging cat in the house that made us a big no-no for all the local rescues we contacted. Things were starting to look bleak, my brother was despondent and had almost given up on finding a dog, when I heard through a friend ofBirmingham Greyhound Protection (BGP).

This amazing organisation works tirelessly to improve the lives of greyhounds and when we explained our situation, they were willing to work with us. In fact, they thought they might already have just the dog for us.

Angel had just come into foster care. She was three-years-old and had been injured during pre-race trialling - though no medical records came with her to explain what that injury was, just a leg scar. She had spent most of her life in Ireland, but was now in Birmingham. She was young and in need of a loving home where she could come out of her shell. She was also ok with cats.

We jumped at the chance to meet her and travelled three hours to Birmingham, to see this nervous, shutdown small greyhound, who stared at us with forlorn and hopeless eyes. She was scared of men, but she attached to my brother swiftly. The whole way home, she sat beside him in the car, while he stroked her and told her everything was going to be ok.

She had never seen a dog bed, let alone a sofa. She entered the house and it must have been a daunting prospect for her. We were not even sure if she was housetrained, though Angel has never had an accident in the house.

Her full racing name was 'Wings of an Angel', hence why the rescue had called her Angel. My brother, on the drive to meet her, commented he could not have a dog called Angel. It was not the sort of name he could go around calling out. After the drive home, having spent three hours comforting an anxious dog, he turned to me and said softly that her name was sticking, it would not be fair to change it. She was Angel and that was that.

Angel had to fit in with three other dogs and that aging cat I had mentioned. We started her in the house wearing a muzzle as advised by the rescue, but that did not last long. Around day three, she got hold of the muzzle while it was not on her and chewed through the strap. We had already decided she did not need it.

The discovery of the luxury of a dog bed quickly brought out the demon in Angel. She informed all the other dogs with barks and growls they could not come near the bed, or in fact near any bed, though there were several available. A similar thing happened with the sofa when she worked out how to climb onto it, though this time her grumbles were directed at people, or rather, men.

We worked through this with counterconditioning, teaching her with treats that it was fine for the other dogs to come near the beds, even when she was laying on them. We taught her to climb off the sofa when asked and instated a rule that no one try to move her with force, as this triggered her nervous behaviour.

She still, four years later, grumbles at the other dogs when they come near her bed, but they all know she is just wind and piffle. She is very good at getting off the sofa when asked.

My brother decided to take Angel to an obedience class to help her bond with him and to build her confidence. Her first trip to class you could see her wondering what all this was about. She started in the puppy group because she had no training whatsoever. However, once she discovered that doing obedience came with the benefit of hotdog sausage for rewards, a new light glimmered in her eyes.

The way to a greyhound's heart is through her stomach.

She swiftly began to master the basics, though the sit took quite a while as it is not a natural position for a greyhound, but she could walk to heel, perform a down and stand, wait for a recall and even do some tricks. It was not long before she was promoted to the Bronze class.

The obedience club we joined follow the Kennel Club Good Citizens Scheme, which is a series of tests for pet dogs to demonstrate they can perform basic skills. Angel was a master of all the exercises in the Bronze class, except for the Stay. She hated her dad leaving her and would invariably stand up and join him. However, after three failed attempts to pass Bronze, and a LOT of sausage, Angel conquered her anxieties, and mastered the down stay.

Now she was in Silver and learning a whole range of new skills. She passed the Silver test on the first attempt. Quite happily doing advanced recalls and demonstrating her ability to ignore food which was not hers - a skill, I should add, she is not so proficient in at home.

Suddenly, the greyhound who knew nothing was in the heady heights of Gold class and more than one person commented in amazement at what she was achieving. Greyhounds are not known for their obedience skills, but Angel is a master.

However, that old leg injury started to cause an issue. No one has ever been able to explain what is wrong with leg, or what her scar indicates happened, but she does have an issue with her right hind that means she becomes suddenly lame. The issue was getting worse and it was suggested Angel be treated by a veterinary physio to see if any improvement could be made.

It turned out Angel had been compensating for a bad leg for a long time, to the point she did not stand straight. Her spine had a curve like a banana when you looked at it the right way. Gentle exercises have helped improve this. She is lame less often and far more comfortable overall. Her back no longer curves and she is much happier.

Angel is now 7 and has lived longer in a pet home than in racing kennels. She still has certain quirks, and is dog reactive, but with an unknown history she can hardly be blamed for that.

When she entered her lives, we thought of Angel as the soul who needed healing, but in reality, while she was learning to be a pet, she was helping my brother overcome his grief. Together, they have healed each other and brought much joy and fun to each other's lives. Their journey is ongoing, and there are no doubt many adventures ahead for this unlikely pair.