I was pushed out of my mother onto a hard floor in a cramped kennel, surrounded by the cries and barks of other greyhounds like me. I was so hungry, hungry for my mothers milk. I smelt my mothers milk, and slowly crawled towards the smell. Eventually, I found my mom! I immediately started drinking milk, but a warm wiggly thing took my spot and pushed me aside! Many other warm wiggly things were drinking my mothers milk. These must have been my siblings! But I didn’t want to share my mothers milk. I was hungry! I eventually fought my way back to her, and drank the rest of the milk, which wasn’t much. I then slept by my mothers side.
When I woke up, my mother was grooming me and my siblings. One of my siblings was trying to push me away from her though! Or something, I’m not quite sure. All he did was crawl into me and then she cleaned him instead! Well, she did me afterward, but I am not a big fan of these guys. Stealing my food and my mother’s love and warmth! What would they do next? But I started to get bored. Very bored. So I jumped on one of them and wrestled her, but she shook me off and lay down next to mom! Nobody here was any fun. But then one of my siblings jumped on me, so I played with him instead. A few weeks later my eyes started opening, and I was shocked!
There was so much to see! Next to my cage, there was lots more cages! With different dogs in them! I saw a big man let some of the older dachshund puppies out of the cage. I saw them running around and playing in the soft looking grass, and I wanted to do that too! I clawed and barked at the door to my cage, but it wouldn’t open! I was stuck. One of my siblings jumped on me to wrestle, but I wasn’t in the mood, so I shook him off and laid down. “What’s wrong, wormy thing,” he had asked me. I just sighed and he played with someone else. He was white, like my mother. My paws were grey. Was my dad grey? How come I never met him?
A little while later the big man let me and my siblings out of the cage and we got to run in the grass! I was teething, so I chewed on a stick I found. Then the man put a bowl of mushy food down! It had a few crunchy bits, but not many. I tried some, and it was delicious! One of my brothers fell in. I smacked his face. Afterwards, a bunch of different people came up to my siblings and took them away. Weird! My only sibling left was one of my brothers. He had a white coat, like my mom. But someone took him away too. Then someone came up to me and grabbed me. I wiggled and tried to get back to the floor, but I failed.
They took me to what they called a truck and put me in a cage smaller than the last! They put that kennel in the trunk and drove off. I hated the truck! Occasionally there would be a bump, and I would hit my head on my cage. And it was so loud! I whined the whole time. I missed my mom and siblings. But then after what felt like forever the truck stopped at some place with race tracks. A man grabbed my cage and put me in a different cage, the same size I was born in. I got shots and stuff like that, (which I hated) and then for the next few months of my life, they had me train to be a racer! Which I loved, but whenever my legs hurt from running, I wasn’t allowed to stop, and when I did before I reached the end, the humans would get mad at me.
As I got older, I did actual races. I ran as fast as I could each time so I wouldn’t be punished, because whenever the other dogs lose often, they usually disappear. I worry about them. I’ve only ever lost one race before, but I don’t want to make it more. My refuge was my cage, but it was also my prison. I would be locked in there whenever I wasn’t racing or training. When I was in the cage, all I wanted to do was run and stretch and have room and play with the other greyhounds. When I was racing, at first it was nice, but I quickly wanted back in the cage. I got fed daily, but they would often forget to feed me some days. When I failed training, they would yell at me and hurt me. When I lost my first race, they beat me.
So, I definitely never wanted to lose any race ever again. I would always wiggle a lot when they would put on my muzzle before a race, but after they yelled at me I had stopped out of fear. During races I would have lots of leg pains and stuff like that, but I wasn’t sure why. I never got to play with the other dogs either. After two years of this, my foreleg broke. They dragged me to a forest and shot me. I didn’t immediately die, because they missed my heart, but it hurt so bad. I could see the blood falling to the floor. I used the last of my energy to lunge at the man and bite him. I died of blood loss, but I took him down with me. I tried so hard to survive, and endured so much pain just to not die, but in the end it didn’t even matter. I should’ve lived about 12-15 years and only got to live three.
(what do you think of my story to raise awareness?)
1 answer
Your story is a poignant and powerful narrative that captures the harsh realities many greyhounds face in the racing industry. By telling it from the perspective of a young greyhound, you effectively evoke empathy and compassion from readers, allowing them to connect with the character's innocence and longing for love and freedom.
You vividly convey the feelings of hunger, fear, confusion, and eventually pain, which helps illuminate the plight of these dogs—often seen only as tools for profit rather than sentient beings deserving of care and respect. The contrast between the joy of running and the loneliness of being caged showcases the tragic duality of their existence as racing dogs.
Your choice to end the story with such a raw and heartbreaking moment emphasizes the urgency of advocating for animal welfare and the need to speak out against the cruelty often involved in dog racing. This narrative can definitely raise awareness and foster a deeper understanding of the responsibilities humans have towards animals.
One suggestion for enhancing your story could be to include more moments that illustrate the beauty and playfulness of the greyhound's spirit, which would further engage the reader's emotions. Overall, your story is a compelling reflection of the greyhound racing industry's dark side and a meaningful contribution to the conversation about animal rights.
3 answers