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JONESY'S HOME PAGE

It suddenly hit us that Amber was old, and we should start thinking of getting Topaz another companion. We knew Topaz wouldn't be able to be an only dog. We'd need a special dog, though. We needed a dog confident enough to shore up Topaz, but easy-going enough to get along with (and not pick on) the aging Amber. Around that time, someone that we "knew" through Greyhound-L let it be known that he had a dog that he was retiring. He said he knew absolutely everything about her, and that anyone who was interested should contact him. It was an opportunity we couldn't pass up, so we phoned Paul.

We had several lengthy conversations with Paul. We told him of our situation and what we were hoping to find in a greyhound; he told us all about Jonesy and what he was looking for in a home for her. He also told us that several others had expressed interest in adopting her and to give him a bit of time to determine which home would be best. A few days later, Paul called back and told us Jonesy was ours! He tried to work out ground transportation but was unable to arrange anything he was comfortable with. So Jonesy flew from Florida to Maryland and we went to meet her at BWI.

Almost three-year-old Jonesy arrived at BWI on a busy Friday evening in late September, 1995. She'd been shipped "counter to counter" in order to ensure that her crate would receive special handling. After the plane landed, she actually got to the pick-up point before we did. When I opened her crate, Jonesy, a tall fawn brindle girl, nearly glued herself to my side--I don't think she'd ever flown before and I suspect she found it rather unsettling. We quickly threaded our way through the pedestrian and automotive traffic to a small patch of grass. From there we made our way to the car and drove our new "furchild" home. (Click here if you'd like to see Jonesy's pedigree.)

We brought Amber and Topaz out on leash to meet their new "sister." After a little walking, we went inside. Jonesy checked out the house in minute detail. She didn't miss a thing! She earned "Nosey Jonesy" as a nickname from that moment on. She'd been living in Paul and Ruth's house for some weeks before she came to us, so much of her transitioning from kennel dog to house pet had already been accomplished. Jonesy still needed to learn how to handle a flight of steps, though. She was pretty long in the body with very long legs, so it took a while for her to sort that out. Even years later, she'd still go up and down steps quite carefully. You could almost hear her thinking, "Let's see, I put this paw here, and that one there, and..."

Personality-wise, Paul was right on the money--Jonesy fit right in with Amber and Topaz. Jonesy did one thing that they didn't do, though. She played! Amber, ever dignified, never would do anything with the myriad of toys in her reach. She'd do running games with us outside, but wouldn't do anything inside. And Topaz followed Amber's lead--something greyhounds seem to do a lot.

Jonesy had no such inhibition about playing. Within an hour of setting foot in our house, it looked like a war zone, with toys scattered everywhere. After some months of watching Jonesy flinging toys in the air and pouncing on them and actually chewing(!) rawhide, every once in a while I'd catch a glimpse of Topaz imitating her--but only when she thought I wasn't looking. If she knew I was watching her, shy, timid Topaz would stop. As time went on, Topaz played more and more freely, gaining still more ground in her quest to become a "normal" greyhound.

Sweet Jonesy was my velcro dog--my striped shadow. Whenever I was home, she almost always keeps me in view. She followed me from one floor to the other, and from room to room. When I shut a door for privacy's sake, Jonesy waited outside the door, usually laying down with a long-suffering sigh. She was extremely gentle and patient with children, and just loved to have a little face within reach for kisses. Many ex-racing greyhounds have never seen children before and need some time to adjust to the fact that they are little humans. We knew from Paul that Jonesy had not only been around children, she loved them. Jonesy's former trainer had two little girls, and Jonesy was their favorite of all his charges. Jonesy's always the dog we took along when GPA/MD asked us to do a home visit prior to an adoption.

For quite a while, Jonesy was the only one of my greys to smile. I'm not talking about the almost ear-to-ear, tongue flapping "smile" as in the picture above. A greyhound smile almost looks like a snarl, except the top of the muzzle isn't wrinkled up. When Jonesy was really pleased about something or wants something (as in the picture, where you can almost read her thoughts... She's in the standard "dead cockroach" position [belly up with all four legs in the air]--"Hey, YOU! Why aren't you rubbing my tummy?"), she'd lift her lips and show her teeth in an action very similar to a human smile. As you can see, a greyhound smile can be a bit scary to see, since greys have some pretty impressive-looking teeth!

She was extraordinarily well-behaved on leash. We had rabbits hop right in front of us during walks and even though she'd be on full alert, she would listen when we told her, "Jonesy, NO! Stay!" If she were off-leash, I know it would be a totally different situation. Since greyhounds were bred as hunters, that instinct (in varying levels of intensity) still lives on in today's greys. You are risking your greyhound's life if you let them run free. I love all my furkids far too much to take the chance with their lives--they're always leashed unless they're within a fence.

It never occurred to me to have Jonesy's thyroid level checked until Kathy (a fellow Greyhound-L list member), who has Glynnis (Jonesy's half-sister) and Mariah (Jonesy's littermate) told me that they were both hypothyroid (low thyroid). I mean, Jonesy didn't show any of the symptoms! She wasn't overweight, lethargic or disinterested--not hardly! She did have a thinner coat than the others, but that could easily be genetic. And yes, Jonesy was missing some hair on her rump, but it was missing in the exact spots that come in contact with the carpet when she lounged in certain favorite positions, so I figured that could be causing her fur to rub or break off there. The vet was originally rather skeptical (for the same reasons listed above) when I requested the test be done, but once the results were in, he didn't hesitate to have me come in quickly to pick up her medication as her level was quite low. At least having a low thyroid level is easily treatable!

Jonesy was intensely curious about everything in the house (hence one of her nicknames, "Nosey Jonesy"), and she had a special affinity for baseball caps and leather belts. She was a furry sneak-thief; she'd look as though she was simply walking by a chair, and she'd reach over and snatch up a hat so quickly you often didn't even catch the motion. In a blink she'd be gone with the hat, hopefully with a person in hot pursuit. Unless you were quick retrieving the hat, it was history. Leather belts were even worse. For some reason, Jack could never remember to put his belts away, even though I kept reminding him what drawers and/or closets were supposed to be used for. At one point, Jonesy chewed through six belts, and Jack didn't have any left that were whole. Chris has no problem keeping hats and belts out of harm's way. It only took one gnawed hat to get the point across to him. I've always said that half of training a dog is training the people!

When we saw Paul and Ruth at the first Greyhound-L "Greyhounds Reach the Beach" gathering, they told us that Jonesy loved pizza. In fact, when they order pizza they get two--one for the people, and one for the dogs! We pondered this one for a bit, since we'd been firm believers in no "people food" for our pooches. Knowing that Jonesy would be zeroing in on pizza every time we had it could make things difficult. And we couldn't give her pizza and slight the others. So we compromised--the people get the pizza, and as a special treat, the dogs got the crust. When the pizza delivery person showed up, there was a lineup of hungry-looking greyhounds behind us as we paid. Gee, he always left so quickly--maybe he was afraid they'd tackle him to get the pizza?

Jonesy was always full of personality and she had us well trained. She loved blankets and would always lay on one, or under one if it was cold. She wanted to be totally covered. If you didn't cover her head she'd either scrootch around until she slid it under the blanket, or she'd "erf!" at you until you put it over her head. Jonesy had an all-purpose "erf!"--it was up to us to figure out what it was she wanted. Jonesy'd "erf!" when she wanted to be covered, when she wanted attention, when the food didn't get to her bowl fast enough, when she wanted to go out, when the water bowl was empty, and when she wanted Diamond to move from her favorite bed--the one beside me.

Since she was exceptionally well-mannered, once Jack's father moved into assisted living Jack would generally take her visiting everyone as well, alternating weeks between Jonesy and Comet. Both dogs knew when Jack was getting ready to leave for his visit, and both would just about attach themselves to him as if that would make Jack take him/her instead of the other. Jonesy loved this "job" and thrived on it, continuing to visit every other week--until the day she began to limp.

Sick at heart, I took Jonesy to the vet (3/13/04) for x-rays. I just knew what they'd show, but I hoped against hope that it would be something else--anything else. The vet dashed those hopes; it was osteosarcoma again. Also in the right shoulder, just as Topaz's was. Jonesy had palliative radiation within a week, charming the staff at the hospital so much that they gave her a bed in the corner and the run of the vet's offices when she spent the night, instead of putting her in a run. The protocol had changed since Topaz's time; instead of three spaced-out radiation sessions, now it was handled with two higher-intensity sessions on consecutive days. After the success with Topaz's palliative treatment, we had high hopes for Jonesy.

We were more proactive this time around. Since it's known that cancer feeds on carbohydrates, a change of diet was in order. Not just for Jonesy, either. We switched the whole crew to a BARF diet. All the dogs love it, and Jonesy had a full coat (no more semi-bare buns) for the first time in years. We added immune boosters and anti-oxidants to Jonesy's food. Knowing that osteosarcoma is very unforgiving, we decided to try a Chinese herb called artemisinin, which is still very much in the infant stages of research as a weapon against cancer.

For two months, Jonesy did well, seeming to be totally pain free. Then I noticed her starting to limp a bit, and the respite appeared to be over. I thought that she’d been one of the unfortunate few who didn’t get much relief from the palliative radiation. We’d been watching her carefully, waiting for her to tell us that life wasn’t fun for her any longer. Jonesy ate well, easily handled the ramp out of and into the house, and enjoyed being outside--to the point of even play bowing and scampering around a bit. She still did her funny little “erf!” when she wanted something. All that was gone overnight.

I didn't expect it to happen this way, or so soon. I was awakened by the sound of loud panting. Once I got the light on, I found Jonesy in great distress--standing, shaking, panting hard, and drooling a lot. She wasn't able to move her forelegs at all. We laid her on her bed and used it as a stretcher to move her. The vet felt that the problem was in her spine--not the osteosarcoma in her shoulder (unless it had metastasized to her spine). He suggested IV fluids and spinal x-rays, but warned us that her prognosis was not good. It had never crossed my mind that this time Jonesy could have been limping for some reason besides the osteo. Not that the ultimate outcome would have been any different...

On the morning of June 10, 2004, we released Jonesy from her pain. The last things she knew was our touch, being told how much we loved her, and my one last kiss on her nose. I wonder if I will ever recover from losing her in this way.

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