Good morning and welcome to the #Sunday Blog Share, as organised by Suzie. Click here to find our more about this great content sharing idea, and why not join in. You can also find Suzie Tweeting at @suzie81blog.
Let me introduce myself.
To those of you who don’t know me, I’m called Misty and I’m a retired racing greyhound. I live with the zombie, sorry Dorne and my daddy, her hubby Pete. Are you with me so far? Good, we’re going to do just fine.
In 2008. I was minding my own doggy business, living at my racing kennels, when something that was fast metamorphosing into a zombie and my daddy turned up. Of course he wasn’t my daddy then. He was just some bloke that took me for a walk. The zombie was a zombie though and still is.
Then, they came back another day and took me for a ride in a strange thing on wheels. We arrived at an even stranger thing, that they called home. It had weird things in it , called a washing machine, television and a vacuum cleaner. I terrified of the vacuum at first. Now, I just laugh at it, as they try to vacuum around me. I won’t move for anyone… if I’m snug and sleepy .
I had to learn how to climb stairs and go on holidays to hotels. It was all very strange, but I soon adjusted. I became a master at shoe shopping. I just love to lie in shoe shops, especially in the Lake District of the UK, whilst my daddy and the zombie try on shoes and buy up the shops. I have absolutely no idea why they love shoe shopping in this part of the UK so much. They’re just rather bonkers.
Back, at what was now my home, I met up regularly with other greyhound chums and we’d do an imaginary race circuit of a nearby paddock. I also made loads of friends with other dogs, the likes of which I’d never seen before.
These days, we dogs sniff each others bottoms, as you do [well, you don’t, but we do] and our humans prattle on about dogs being so different. Hello! have you only just noticed that?
I’m Irish and my birth mum was Irish and my birth dad was Australian. I say birth parents, because of course I now have my daddy and the zombie.
I did rather well in my racing days and won quite a lot of races; but I don’t miss it.
But, I would miss cosy dog beds, if you took them away from me. Notice it’s beds and not bed! I have them upstairs and downstairs. I can spend about five minutes carefully re-arranging them and then I’ll clear off and start on the other ones. The zombie loves it; particularly in the dead of the night when her head is banging out of her thick skull. She’s always very appreciative of it and shouts words of encouragement to me.
Anyhow, I think I’m needed elsewhere. The zombie wants to change the bed and I’m required to give the poor old thing a hand with it.
I’ve enjoyed writing this post and talking about me, me and some more about me. The zombie is making noises about me having my own column on here, as she’s noticed that more people seem to read my posts than hers. Ha ha ha! I wonder why?
So, if you’ve enjoyed this snippet of my life as a greyhound, who has retired to a life with a rather nice bloke and a zombie, call back again sometime and I’ll tell you some more.
Thanks for dropping by here and have a wonderful Sunday. I know I will… sleeping and sleeping some more.
Until the next time.