Felicity the Greyhound

That moment when your vet’s mouth opens and closes and you hear nothing.  That moment when you identify only the words “cancer”, “aggressive” and “amputation”.  That moment stinks.

My name is Cate and I live with Felicity and four other amazing retired greyhounds – Flynn, MG, Moe and Moonie and a very kind and understanding partner.  I have the honour of sharing Felicity’s story with you and I begin to write her story on the eve of life as a tripawd.

Felicity is an 8 1/2 year old greyhound.  She retired a successful and well known athlete.  Running is her life.  She loved her racing days and she continues to love her runs on our sunny little farm.

[I pause for a moment to respectfully request that should you, the reader, hold any anti-racing sentiments that you read on without judgement.  I absolutely respect that you may have opinions about the racing industry but this story is not about the right’s or wrongs of racing – it’s about Felicity.  I thank you in advance for not judging us.]

Felicity came from an outstanding racing establishment, loved by incredible and admirable trainers who gifted me the privalage of her retiring on my sofa.  I was even lucky enough to be a part of her impressive racing career.

Felicity and myself in 2008 – our first winning race together.

Like many retired greyhounds, Felicity adapted to life on the sofa with grace and ease…as long as she managed to grab the chance to stretch out and gallop in the sunshine.  As often as she could.  Often nicknamed the “princess tomboy” or “rip shit and bust”, she never let’s a moment of fun escape.

This bed stuff…easy peasy, lemon squeezy!

In July 2015, Felicity was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer.  According to our vet only 20% of dogs are lucky enough to be able to be operated on.  Felicity was in the 20%.  She pulled through surgery and recovery like a trooper.  She BEAT CANCER.

Two weeks later she became lame and we visited our wonderful vet once again.  That was “the” moment.  Cancer.  Aggressive.  Amputation.

After sleepless nights with Felicity on the sofa, agonising with my wonderful and kind partner over alternatives, a hell of a lot of crying, talking the ears off friends (not to mention my darling Mom) and a crap load of kisses and cuddles with Felicity – we all decided that amputation, life as a tripawd and kicking cancer’s ass was our plan moving forward.

In less than 12 hours we will be heading to the veterinary hospital for her amputation.  I cannot explain the feeling we have this evening.  A sense of dread.  A sense of loss.  A sense of immense hope.  It’s almost sickening.  But above all, there is hope and love.  Here’s to “Kick-Ass Day” tomorrow!

Undeniably scrawled by Cate

Always smiling. Our Felicity. May 2015