Greyhounds. Wonderful, wondrous magics in the world. The hornless unicorn, the majestic Pegasus, the adorably comfortable fruit of our homes. Oh, if not a day could pass for I daydream of its presence. *Sigh*.
Greyhounds are bred today for speed and endurance. Unsurprisingly, they are race dogs. Trained to tear across a track with but a second's breadth, after no longer being able to face the loud, jeering crowds and horrific track conditions, they are cast away into shelters- whom which I believe are no better or worst than the housings in which they already live. They are treated like entertainment, and are expected to be nothing less than objects of game.
Greyhounds, as racers, are confined in small cages and a rag serving as a bed, bathroom, and heat for cold nights. After about a week of solitary confinement, they are brought out again to race another day. Often trained with brute force and non- sympathetic worms of people, greyhounds are borne with fear of, not human contact and love, eventually euthanized after retirement for rowdy behavior, it's a wonder why greyhound, or really, just animal racing in general.
After racing, when an animal becomes lame and unable to race, they are either dumped at shelters or shot cleanly in the head and left to rot in a dump or trash yard. If sheltered, these animals are left in wait of a loving, caring family. Of course, it is unlikely they will be housed if they have mites, mange, or any form of disease or sickness, normally caught when living in such close quarters at track sites. If not, they will be quietly coaxed into a cold white room, in which a nurse holds a thick needle along with a few other volunteers with small metal tools. One of the greyhound's veins (I was researching into this and found myself physically unable to complete the paragraph)is cut open by the nurse as the rest hold they greyhound down and whisper empty reassurance to the dog. He is stored inside a small box or other and dies in sleep. This is "humane" euthanization. There may be better attempts at such, but, in general, the greyhound's life is nothing more than another "thing" taking up the cage space in which a happier, healthier, more adorable puppy could take the place of.
Of course, it could go the other way, and he or she could end up in a shelter, but really, the likelihood that they will truly be happy living still as an opposition of lower intelligence and right as their masters. Who are we to breed, sell, and race animals as if they cannot feel? Who are we to hold the creatures whom trust us most in cold cages like lethal criminals and kill them off and yet still breed them again as over? What right does our religion or empathy give us in what we are?
