By Tue, Dec 06, 2011
Story by Maddog McDermuttPhotos by Little Elsie
They say there might be as many as 450 adopted NGA Greyhounds, retired racers mainly, in the Greater Calgary area. Three separate Canadian adoption groups work with American adoption groups, fostering, adopting, sponsoring activities to familiarize the dogs to others and eventually into what has come to be known as forever homes: Northwest Canadian Greyhound League, Chinook Winds Greyhounds, and Southern Alberta Greyhound Association.
When Little Elsie and I received the invite, from Jodi Miller of Southern Alberta Greyhound Association, to join in on a Meets and Greets at a Calgary Petsmart, and I coincidentally happened to be wondering what my next Greyhound Review story would be, and the forthcoming snowstorm appeared to be holding over the Rockies, we charged our camera batteries, grabbed our passports, loaded up, crawled out of bed at 4 am and by 5 am, October 29, Saturday morning, the Jeep was headed north for Calgary, Alberta, on I-15, and by the time the sun was up we had crossed the border: Canada.
I had to feel a little nostalgia: both my parents were Canadian.
Little Elsie and I were not total strangers to Canadian Greyhound adoption. We had participated in three hauls with American Greyhounds headed for Canadian couches, and I had written Greyhound Review stories on each. Additionally, we had been to Canada’s only track, Doug Riches’ Calida track near Sylvan Lake, and more Greyhound Review stores from there.
Some years back, right on schedule, I turned into the parking lot of the Great Falls, Montana, fairgrounds. The Jeep was the only vehicle in the vast parking area. I had been advised by phone a Greyhound haul would arrive, and within about five seconds of the estimated time, here comes a state of the art dog trailer and pickup (e.g., air conditioning all around), with Kansas plates. It pulled into the fairgrounds lot, parked beside my Jeep, and then, almost simultaneously, a car with Alberta plates drove in; parked, everybody hi-how-are-ya stuff, then a manifest checked, ticked, and the dogs earmarked for Canada were helped out of the truck or trailer, leashed up and led over to a small patch of grass on which the dogs gratefully took relief, then, reluctantly, perfectly understandable, exited the patch of grass, like “not again,“ loaded up in the car with the Alberta plates, and off they go, headed north.
The truck and trailer driver, and alternative driver, I believe it to be a father and son team, got directions for the easiest, shortest route headed west, continuing on for Post Falls, Idaho, for another dog drop, at which time the rest would continue on to the west coast.
I stood there in that fairgrounds parking lot for some time, by myself, leaned back against the Jeep door, tried to sort out what had just happened. On the one hand I thought maybe a good cry was in order, and on the other hand, how about a shout for joy. On the other hand … I only had two hands.
Can you imagine?

Angela Kijewski, President of S.A.G.A. and Eowin Kijewski work the Welcome Table.
What other dog, or anything for that matter, man or beast, could survive a trip like that, hour in and hour out, don’t know how, don’t know why, get lifted out of a dog trailer, take a deep breath, look around, a wag of the tail, then here we go again, loaded into another vehicle, to who knows where.
Greyhounds are special, I mean really special.
So tell me, gentle Greyhound addicts, if you had to sum up this fantastic dog in one word, what would that one word be?
The late John Hern of Post Falls, Idaho, having adopted out more than some 4,000 Greyhounds, I think came up with the winner.
Patience.
No question, these dogs were looking at their destiny, trusting with everything they had, in the most unpredictable species on the planet, homo sapiens. It was the way they accepted their destiny that blew my mind.
Patience.
I looked up short descriptions of S.A.G.A. board members on the S.A.G.A. web site (http://www. sagaa.org). Or just Google Saga Greyhounds and all kinds of information pops up. I think Little Elsie and I met all the board members, except Jodi Miller who nevertheless sent one of my books down which my arthritic hand scribbled on. Anyway, here’s what the S.A.G.A. board members had to say about Greyhounds. I had to notice the word love is tossed around frequently.
Angela Kijewski: What I love about Greyhounds is their affinity to get along … their camaraderie. They have such gentle, easy going personalities which make them great companions to snuggle and stroll with.

Wannabes are everywhere. Here they crash the Greyhound Meets and Greets proceedings.
Chris Blanar: Quiet and loving, eager to please and always surprising. What’s not to love about greyts?
Lana Moskaluk: Their easy gentle personalities made the transition of adding new dogs into a household with children, three smaller dogs and a cat absolutely seamless.
Tineke Asma: Greyhounds have a way of warming themselves into your heart, even though each has its own personality. From shy to outgoing, they are all so special.
Jodi Miller: What I love about these majestic creatures is their unfailing ability to love and their desire to be loved by those who take them into their homes and hearts. Unconditional love is the only thing you will ever see in their eyes.
Michael Asma: I spend my time looking after our Greyhounds, especially my heart dog Jamey, who passed away … Every day I saw his unconditional love for us in his eyes.

Another flashback, our next two experiences with Greyhound hauling, we had the privilege and fun of pitching in and picking up dogs off A REAL GREYHOUND BUS, out of Oklahoma and Kansas, headed for the West Coast, at Three Forks, where Montana 287 meets Interstate 90. And when the driver of the bus opened the door, hold your nose, it’s bad. The driver shrugged, said, they all cut loose ten minutes out of town.
Out of town meaning Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana. And Idaho, Washington and Oregon lay ahead.
We walked our new friends extensively, out there in the middle of Montana, then loaded up and drove to our home in Great Falls where the dogs had about twenty minutes to enjoy our old dog run, tell our adopted Greyhound Jones all about the trip so far, before they were loaded up and on to Canada.
As the dogs drove down our gravel road, their last leg on a long, long trip, Little Elise and I waved and wished our passengers the best of luck. One of the dogs, a white with black patches gal, rested her head on my shoulder all the way from Three Forks to Great Falls, whispered sweet nothings in my ear, and I have to say I was quite taken and considered hiding her in the garage, but I didn’t. Her name, I think, was Doti. I never did know (or remember) which Calgary adoption group these dogs were destined. I did hear that Doti was immediately spoken for and was happy as a clam, and I was glad of that, and I really hoped she might show up at Petsmart, but no such luck.

S.A.G.A.’s Meets and Greets in full swing.
Jodi Miller gave me a rundown on Southern Alberta Greyhound Association. S.A.G.A.
“S.A.G.A began in 2003,” Jodi said. “We have adopted out more than 350 NGA Greyhounds. We are a registered Non-Profit Society in Canada. Our website is www.sagaa. org. We do weekly Meets & Greets at a PetSmart Pet Store in Calgary every Saturday from 1-3p.m. We recently completed a haul of seven Greyhounds and all but three have been adopted out.”
When I mentioned that Little Elsie and I were interested in attending a Meets and Greets, and maybe the forthcoming Saturday because I had a Greyhound Review deadline, Jodi said, “We would love to get you out to meet some of our success stories, come to a Meet & Greet, introduce you to one of the Greys that was just brought up. Please let us know what we can do to help you in making S.A.G.A. an integral part of your article/story as we believe this to be a wonderful opportunity for us to spread not only the word about S.A.G.A. but also about Greyhound adoption in Alberta as well as Greyhounds in general.”
We found the correct Petsmart store, on time, and we found the Greyhounds and Greyhound folks, gathering, in front of the grooming room. The store was big and the place was busy. At the Meets and Greets table we met President of S.A.G.A., Angela Kijewski and daughter Eowin and son Rand. As I thumbed through the material on the table, adoption forms, adoption applications, a S.A.G.A. t-shirt, I picked up a Fall 2011 Celebrating Greyhounds: the magazine.
“Little Elsie!” I said. “Look at this!”
“Look at what?”
“It’s a review of Vintage Maddog!”
Little Elsie read it. When she finished, I said, “What does that last paragraph do for you, Little Elsie?”
She read it to me out loud. “If you know dogmen, you will enjoy Vintage Maddog. If you don’t know this special group of people, this collection of stories just may introduce you to a specific and unique subculture.”
“Is that a smashing line or what?” I said.

“You wouldn’t believe the winters up here.”
She just looked at me.
Next, we caught a Petsmart staff member, David Ashworth, handing out doggie treats to a gaggle of Greyhounds. Little Elsie stepped up with her camera. A big handsome black dog stuck his neck out. I had to ask. “What’s that big dog’s name? The fellow on the other end of the leash, John Mastwijk, said, “His racing name was Mannassa Mauler.”
“Really,” I said.
“Yes, but we changed the name to Dempsey. We felt Manassa Mauler, for those not familiar with prize fighters, might not be appropriate in our neighborhood. So we changed it.”
“Got it,” I said. “Very good.”
When I got home, I looked up Manassa Mauler on Greyhound Data.
He was born April 2006, in Kansas.
And here he was, in Calgary, Alberta, Canada, five years old, adopted out, and now, on the rebound, adopted for the second time!
As the story goes, Dempsey’s original adopters had to move to Sweden, and the dog had to remain behind. I gave him a pat. He was in good shape. Manassa Mauler, Molotov the father and Mountaylor Dolly the mother, ran Wheeling Downs and Southland. He ran at 83 pounds and had 86 career starts. His new adopter excused himself to take the dog inside the grooming room to get his nails manicured.
Sometimes, in my twilight years, I get a little melancholy.
Here it was again, a slap in the face. Lady Luck. Destiny. Fate. How do you explain it? It’s a poker game and you play your hand, make the most of it. I just met a dog whelped in Kansas. The dog raced for three years in Arkansas and West Virginia. Somehow, the dog hitched a ride on a dog haul headed west, transferred somewhere for a ride to Canada and was adopted into a happy home by a family that suddenly had to move to Sweden. And here he was, in Alberta, Canada, big as life, one cool customer, participating in a Meets and Greets with other dogs of his kind, accepting treats from David Ashworth of a Petsmart store in another country called Canada and managing to squeeze in a nail manicure in a busy Greyhound adoption promotion afternoon.
And his name was Dempsey.
There used to be a TV show which opened with something like the following: “New York has a million stories. This is one of them.”
The same thing can be said of Greyhounds. Each and every dog in that Calgary Petsmart store that Saturday afternoon has a story. I picked but one.
Crazy.
And wonderful.
We made it back to Lethbridge that evening. We were home in Great Falls by noon the next day.
Good people. Good dogs. Good visit.