During the years I did front-line greyhound rescue, I asked for boys. I’d have ten boys at my house, and not a problem. I’d get in that one girl, god forbid two or more girls, and the squabbling would begin. Or the sneakiness. Or the bitchiness.
Guess which dog is Maddie, and which is Ned in this picture. See what I mean? I talked all my adopters into boys. Ask them. Here are adopters’ pictures. Give me boys any day. Please do think about adopting a boy. A black boy, perferably. Don’t have a clue, but they get picked last. And they are gorgeous. Ask any black boy.
Bev Doan, a former greyhound adoption group president, sent me this tongue-in-cheek email about “The Difference Between Boys and Girls.” It still makes me laugh.
“I’m relentless in my need and desire to be in your face, on you, over you, under your feet, behind you, in front of you, next to you. You adopted me and now you will have no rest from me, ever. I may just lift
my leg on everything you touch, in tribute to you, every time I think you are looking at some other dog. If you’d let me, I’d probably nurse. I will be a perpetually needy child, demanding attention, affection, and constant affirmation, no matter how old either one of us gets.” High maintenance.
“Thanks for liberating me. You go ahead and do your alpha thing, but let’s just be equals in the ways that really count. Show me the ropes and I’ll settle right in. Who are the players? Where’s my spot? What stuff is mine? What time’s dinner?
Here’s the rules:
1. If you wanted a clown, you should have adopted from the circus.
2. I ain’t a blonde.
3. Talk to the butt, the face ain’t listenin’.
4. I can out-pee almost any dog on the planet in my quest to pee last.
5. I won’t lick you if you don’t lick me.
6. I’ll always be close by, but call me. We’ll have lunch if we’re both
free.” Low maintenance.